Well, since you’re asking… back in 2011, while living in San Francisco, Jared took me on three dates in one week. On date number one, I watched him eat guacamole for the first and last time. By date two, I somehow managed to lock myself inside my own apartment. Could you believe Jared thought I was lying when I told him I couldn’t make our date? It wasn’t until I mentioned I might try jumping out the second-floor window that he took me seriously. Calmly, he said he’d call a locksmith and rescue me from my own adrenaline-fueled ideas. Standing outside my door, he explained the situation to the locksmith… and referred to me as his girlfriend. On date two. GF. Me. Already. I didn’t hate it. Once freed from my self-imposed imprisonment, we went out for Chinese food, drank a little too much rosé, and somehow ended up with an absurd amount of free crab legs. Somewhere between the good vibes, laughter, and the rosé, I thought he might be the one. Two days later, on date three, he took me dancing and wanted to show me his boat. At the time, I thought, why would he think I’m into toy boats? What vibe did I give him? But we had so much fun that night, and I ended up going back with him… to see that he actually had a real, live boat. That same night, he told me he loved me and officially asked me to be his girlfriend. Consider yourself trapped. Hey, I'm not saying having a boat influenced my answer, but it didn’t hurt. Seven days to trap a guy...I mean, fall in love. Fourteen years later, we’re getting married! The math doesn’t add up, but the love always has. Jared says he has his own version of that week and would love to tell it… but knowing him, he’d absolutely exceed the word limit, and ain't nobody got time for that!