This was my thought after my first coffee date with Christopher, which was (and forever will be) the only Hinge date I had ever been on. I knew that having three hours fly by at a coffee shop was a good sign, but I wanted to wait until the second date before I got too excited.

Just two days later, I walked into the bar of D.L. Mack’s to the sight of Christopher sipping an espresso martini (I’m not sure if this helped or contributed to the second-date jitters). I remember that he asked how my day was twice and I pretended not to notice, so endeared (and flattered) by his nervous energy.

We found a way to our table and quickly picked up where we had left off at LDU. We discovered a shared childhood (and current) obsession with Harry Potter. I learned that Christopher was also a theater kid and had even starred as the title role in his community theater production of Willy Wonka (much more prestigious than my role as Oompa Loompa #4). It seemed that the points of connection and similarity would never stop coming, to the extent that I wondered, I think we might be the same person.

Another three-hour date later, we suddenly looked up and realized we were the only ones left in the restaurant and the staff was ready to close shop. Snapped out of our own little world where time had stood still, we hurried out of the restaurant to say goodbye and I went home to journal all my feelings about the evening. I wrote of our extraordinary compatibility, the warmth Christopher emanates, and how good his cologne smelled (Bleu de Chanel, for those wondering). 

I’m not one to believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in love in hindsight. As I eagerly anticipate our marriage and a lifetime of loving Christopher, I’m grateful to have documentation of the moments our love took root on a Monday night pizza date.