11 . 1 . 19

A long, long time ago (more accurately, about six years), in a galaxy far away (or a city affectionately known as “The People’s Republic of Cambridge”), two twentysomethings were at a party. He was tall, beardless, and had just come from a Rolling Stones concert. She was petite, wore a stunning dress, and wasn’t yet a redhead. She lived upstairs and talked about her manga collection. He was there to say goodbye to a friend moving to California, and talked about his job in advertising. “She’s cute.” he thought as he walked home. “He’d look better with a beard.” she thought as she trudged upstairs. The next day, sullenly carrying his friend’s boxes into an aging Volvo, she called down to him. “We’re having a brunch party,” she said. “I’m makin’ bacon.” Hungover, but tempted by the promise of free breakfast and mimosas, he agreed, and helped her scrape some burned bacon from a pan. They joked and talked, and mostly drank. “You like science fiction? Check out Doctor Who. You’ll love it.” she effused. This was the first of many of her good suggestions. “You like female singers?” he asked, the conversation turning to music. “Listen to CHVRCHES. It’s right up your alley.” This was the first of many of his. From there, their story is the stuff of legend, or at least a modern bohemian folk tale. Two souls meet, and discover through an endless parade of Thai food, concerts, cocktails, and discussions about simulation theory, that they complete each other so perfectly that they can’t imagine their lives apart. On a grey November evening, on the Mass Ave bridge that connected their old home and their new, in front of the city that they love, they made the decision to spend the rest of their days together. This is our story, one of love and friendship and endless pop culture references. And we cannot wait to share the start of our next chapter with you.