I suppose we go back to where it all started, a shiny, brand-new service station. I was hired as an attendant, excited to start what I assumed would be a very glamorous job—serving customers and wiping down petrol pumps like some sort of servo superhero. But little did I know, the real adventure was about to begin, and it wasn’t at the petrol pumps.

Enter Amber, the new store manager. She came in a week or two after I started, and it was like the sun had just come up on a really cloudy day. Everyone noticed her. She had this cool, confident energy that made you want to pay attention—and maybe step up your game. She wasn’t just the boss; she was the boss—the kind of person who knew exactly what she was doing and made you want to do your best just by being around her.

After a few weeks of working together (aka figuring out how to not blow up the place), a fellow staff member who Amber admittedly hired purely based on his looks, and who had been flirting with her, sidled up to me one slow afternoon. His name? Let’s call him Chad. Why? Because "Chad" is always the guy who thinks flexing is a personality trait. Anyway, Chad leans in, looking like he’s about to drop some major wisdom.

“We should start a competition,” he says, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Who can ‘get with’ Amber first?”

Now, here’s the thing. Chad was 6ft-something of muscle. He was tall, dark, handsome—and, well, a bodybuilder. Meanwhile, I was... a GIRL who could maybe tell a decent joke and make her laugh. Mostly decent. But regardless, she had a type—male was most important, then preferably tall, dark, handsome, + bodybuilder = HELL YEH! Me, I had none of those things, not even the anatomy. But did that stop me? Nope. I was ready for this ridiculous competition.

"Challenge accepted," I said, not realizing what I was getting myself into.

And so, the battle began. Chad would show off his muscles (because, of course, you have to let everyone know you can lift things). I, on the other hand, stuck to my strengths—bad puns, terrible dad jokes, and trying way too hard to be just charming enough to get her attention without looking desperate. Spoiler: it didn’t always work.

But Amber? She wasn’t playing our game. She had a type, sure, but she wasn’t here for Chad’s flexing or my awkward humor. She was just doing her thing, running the store, and generally being an awesome mum to a freshly turned three-year-old, Kaylee. Meanwhile, the competition continued—purely for sport, right? Right.

Months passed. I’ll admit it—there were times I was ready to throw in the towel. Chad was built like a Greek god, while I was over here trying to make Amber laugh with my best impression of a dad at a barbecue. But here’s the twist: after all that time, I started realizing something. I wasn’t just competing anymore—I was getting to know Amber. And as it turned out, Amber was more than just the cool, unattainable boss. She was smart, witty, and funny in her own right. And, yeah, she had this thing where she’d laugh at my terrible jokes, which, in hindsight, was probably the point where I fell for her.

Eventually, I stopped worrying about winning some competition and started caring more about what we had. And, well, it wasn’t long before Amber looked at me, maybe a little differently than before, and that was when I knew: game over.

The “competition” ended, but in its place, something much better began. Initially there was flirting, of course, and an insatiable appetite for each other’s company (because let’s be real, it was fun), but we soon realized what was growing between us: feelings. Real feelings.

Fast forward, and we’re not just still together, but we’re moving in together.

Our love story didn’t start with roses or grand gestures—it started with a ridiculous competition that neither of us thought would lead anywhere. But somehow, here we are, building a life and family together, with all the laughter, inside jokes, and shared moments that make life the wonderful mess it is.

And now, you’re all part of it—because what began with a silly bet turned into the story of us.

Once upon a time—well, about seven years ago—I was a single, straight mum, working for a petrol station chain that had me hopping all over the state opening shiny new stores. Think clipboard, Red Bull in hand, and a whole lot of “let’s get this done.” When duty called, I packed up my life and headed halfway across the state to manage a new site.

Enter: Jayde.

She was... memorable, but not for the reasons you’d hope. Loud, very chatty, and full of big claims about being the perfect employee. I rolled my eyes more times in a week than I had all year. I was sure she was all bark and no bite. But—plot twist—she actually backed up her big talk. Annoyingly good at her job, annoyingly helpful, and, yeah... just generally annoying.

And then came The License Debacle. Let’s just say, after a slightly-too-fun family party, I misplaced a rather critical part of my job—my driver's license. Enter: panic. Exit: independence.

But before I could completely spiral, Jayde swooped in like a knight in a fuel-stained apron, driving me across the state like it was nothing. Every shift, every store, every Red Bull run—she was there. (Babe, you’re a real one. Seriously.)

Still, at this point, Jayde was just a friend. A loyal, dependable, still-slightly-annoying friend.

Then along came Chad. Yes, that Chad. I’ll be honest: I hired him purely for his looks. Zero shame. Jayde promptly dubbed him "Chad" (because of course she did), and it didn’t take long before he started sliding into my inbox with... let’s call them extracurricular messages. It was hilarious, especially watching Jayde suddenly go full peacock-mode, flaunting her sass and spark like there was a competition brewing.

What neither of them knew was: I was onto them.

What I didn’t know? That I was about to get proven wrong. Again.

Because somewhere between the late-night drives, the shared jokes, and the not-so-subtle sass-offs with Chad, I started to see Jayde differently. Like, really differently. I found myself wondering—was this curiosity, or "oh no, am I catching feelings?"—and I had never caught those kind of feelings for a woman before.

Naturally, I did the most rational thing: I gave her a 15-minute challenge, fully convinced she’d fail.

Spoiler alert: she did not fail.

Seven years later, here we are. She’s the most incredible mum to our little Kaylee, my partner in chaos, the only person who can match my stubborn with her own, and the love of my life. We’re about to celebrate one of the most exciting days ever, and despite the fact that we sometimes drive each other absolutely bonkers—I wouldn’t want to do life with anyone else.

So yes, Jayde proved me wrong. Again.

But don’t get used to it, babe. That was the last time. (Probably.)