I’ll never forget the first night I saw Annie. She was dressed as Barbie for Halloween a few years back. Knowing her as I do now, it should’ve been no surprise that she was wearing her favorite colors and fully embracing herself; but at the time, I had little thought besides pure awe. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke, her beauty. I think the people around me must’ve noticed my gawking — a friend nudged me and indicated that Barbie was Annie. However, I was with a date, and she was with a date. I logged the name away in my head, and we went our separate ways. But I couldn’t just forget her. Annie.

Months later, our paths would collide once again. One weekend, with no plans, I texted a good friend to ask what he had going on. Later that night I found myself in Sundance with a group of people, most of whom I knew in passing. Some of them I had seen on campus, some from other social functions, but there was one face in particular that stood out. It’s her.

“Annie, right?” That was the easy part. As I prepared to introduce myself, I was pleasantly surprised when she cut me off— “Was it McClain?” Those were the only words we exchanged that night, but the same feeling I had when I had first seen her nearly a year prior had returned. It was a wondering of how it might feel to not only be with a girl like her, but to be with her. Exactly her. Barbie. Annie.

I somehow summoned the ability to play it cool. It wasn’t until nearly a month later that I saw her again. This time our encounter was once again in passing, unplanned and authentic. Brief comments were exchanged, but this time I had to say something out loud. Not to her, but to someone. Someone had to know. I desperately needed someone to bring me back down to Earth before I made a fool of myself. But like most good friends, my wingman that day was more than willing to tell me to go for it. Give it a shot.

On the way to pick her up for the first date I drove in silence. It was like preparing for the last game of the season. Or the first day of a new job. The feeling of unknown that lies somewhere between excitement, anxiety, terror, thrill, and the possibility of something extraordinary. We grabbed a pizza, chatted for a while, and by the time I dropped her off, I was shocked to have an unwavering confidence in how it went. That won't be the last date.

Not long thereafter, Annie invited me to a Wimbledon party at her house. Having played tennis growing up, I figured I’d know more about the sport than most of the people (guys) there. And considering she was hosting the party, I figured that might actually matter to her. So, I rolled the dice—a signature tennis shoe and the timeless white of Wimbledon was enough to catch her eye. She likes me.

That night I started to jump to conclusions that this might be different. Something about the way I felt when I was around Annie seemed so right. In this way, the feeling was foreign; by that point in my life, I had grown to think that the process of getting to know someone was slow and methodical, even doubtful, and possibly stressful at times. With her, I felt none of that. No hesitancy nor questioning, just excitement and wonder. I want to see her again.

After just a few weeks, other priorities seemed to fade in importance. 5 O’clock couldn’t come soon enough, and rush hour traffic suddenly seemed unending. The once patient person inside of me stayed at home every time I drove to Annie’s place. Everyone around me could see something was different, and before long my parents were coming to visit. You need to meet her.

The fall passed by quickly. Football games, family weddings, long conversations, and lasting memories. Although we were becoming serious at this point, I felt the need to bite my tongue about how I felt. Surely, I had been moving more quickly than her. And I couldn’t risk scaring her off. I’m forever grateful for Annie’s willingness to speak from the heart and break the ice I was walking on. I love her.

One moment I had been wondering who she would be, and the next I was wondering how I had ever lived without her. Her dreams were mine and my goals were hers. We were perfect for each other. She was everything I had ever dreamed of. I’m going to marry her.

The love I have for Annie is something that is difficult to articulate. She empowers me to be my best self and pushes me to be better. She comforts me and understands me. She makes me feel as though nothing else could ever compare in significance. This is why I am convinced that I am the luckiest person in the world—She’s my bride.

I love you Annie. Cheers to new beginnings that last forever.

-McClain