In the year 2022, James, a charming American with a strategic mind, matched with Rachel, a witty Brit with a low tolerance for nonsense, on the great modern battlefield known as Tinder. Sparks flew. Banter was exchanged. Memes were appreciated. A first date was scheduled. And then… James canceled. Rachel, drawing upon centuries of British emotional restraint, thought: Typical. A flake. Probably owns too many baseball caps. She mentally demoted him to “Disappointing American” But James, who was not in fact a flake (just mildly chaotic), regrouped. He proposed a new date: June 24, 2022, the historic day Roe v. Wade was overturned. Because nothing says “romance” like meeting for the first time on a day when the entire internet is on fire. Undeterred by global headlines or James’ earlier cancellation, Rachel agreed. They met at Left Handed Giant, a brewery filled with craft beer, ambient lighting, and the faint smell of hops and destiny. Rachel arrived skeptical. James arrived calm, composed… perhaps too composed. Rachel assumed he wasn’t that interested. What she didn’t know was that James was simply playing his cards close to his chest. Like a man who had watched exactly one poker tutorial on YouTube and decided emotional mystery was attractive. They talked. They laughed. They survived the news cycle. And then James did something bold. He bought her a pizza. A full pizza. A gesture so powerful, so generous, that it created a financial and emotional debt Rachel has never repaid (and likely never will). Economists are still studying it. Somewhere between the craft beer and the unpaid pizza tab of destiny, something clicked. The American flake turned out not to be a flake at all. The skeptical Brit discovered that beneath the calm exterior was a man who absolutely, definitely liked her. And that’s how an American and a British woman met on Tinder, survived a canceled first date, bonded on one of the most chaotic news days of 2022, and began a love story fueled by beer, banter, and one outstanding pizza balance. The rest, as they say, is history. Though James still maintains he’s waiting on reimbursement.

It only makes sense that when a British girl and an American boy fall in love, they obviously get engaged in Japan. Rachel and James were wandering around in Shinjuku, Tokyo. They were slightly jet-lagged, fully in love, and surrounded by neon lights, arcades, and the faint but ever-present feeling that something giant might be watching them. (Spoiler: it was. If you look very closely at the proposal photos, Godzilla’s head is casually peeking over a building in the background). Rachel thought they were just exploring. James, however, was operating under Mission: Operation International Fiancée. What Rachel didn’t know was that James had secretly hired a photographer to follow them and capture the moment. Very smooth. Very spy-movie. Then, right there in the middle of Shinjuku, under the Tokyo lights and Godzilla’s silent supervision, James stopped walking. Before Rachel could ask why they weren’t heading toward sushi, he turned to her, got down on one knee (yes, properly down on one knee — full American rom-com form), and asked the question. Time paused. The city buzzed. Godzilla approved. And Rachel said yes. The crowd around them instantly transformed into a live studio audience. People stopped. They cheered. They applauded. And when she said yes, they very enthusiastically instructed James to kiss her, which he happily did. So there they were: a British fiancée, an American fiancé, engaged in Tokyo, applauded by strangers, with Godzilla looming proudly in the background like the world’s most dramatic chaperone. Honestly? The United Nations should study this level of cross-cultural commitment.