We met on OkCupid, six months into the pandemic. Her profile photos? I wasn't entirely sure which one was her. There was one where she was doing aerial acrobatics, another where she looked like a steampunk hero, and then a nice, normal-looking girl-next-door shot. It was like scrolling through a casting call.

We’d both overshared on our profiles, and after answering over 500 questions each, the site proudly declared us a 98% match. I’d have been nuts not to ask her out.

We ended up planning this first date that somehow made sense back then: a silent disco at sunset. We said “hi,” slipped on our headphones, and then just… danced. For two hours. Mostly in silence, watching the sunset, probably wondering if this counted as an actual date.

Finally, I walked her back to her car and threw out the big question: “Wanna grab dinner?” We closed down the restaurant that night—and from that point on, I’ve barely had a day without her in it.

Picture this: October 2020, smack in the middle of a pandemic, everyone masked and paranoid, living life six feet apart. The world felt like a science fiction movie, and yet there I was, swiping through OK Cupid like I had nothing better to do. And then – BAM! There it was: a photo of Troy Thompsen, circa 1991, rocking a look that screamed "lost love child of Fabio and Winger’s lead singer.” I couldn't scroll past. His profile was intriguing in that "this could be either a very good or a very weird idea" way.

I reached out first because, well, when the universe hands you a potential glam rock god in a pandemic, you make the first move. Troy asked me out for a Tuesday night. At that point, my Tuesdays were sacred: silent disco by Venice Pier, just me, my headphones, and some dope dance moves. I figured if he was brave enough to join me, we’d be off to a good start.

So there we were, meeting on the beach, the sky doing its California sunset magic, and as I looked down, I realized we were both wearing silver glitter toenail polish. I mean, what are the odds? That’s cosmic alignment, people.

We danced in silence for two hours, just grooving with our headphones on, catching each other's eye here and there, all without a single word exchanged. For a first date, it could've been awkward, but somehow it was perfect.

Afterward, we went to a nearby restaurant, and between ordering and laughing, we ended up closing the place down. Once he walked me to my car, he asked me out again. We've been dancing our way through life together ever since.

Falling in love with Troy during the pandemic was like jumping into the deep end with no pool noodles. We got close fast.I mean, it was three to four days a week, us, in our own little quarantine bubble with zero friend introductions or social distractions. Just me, him, and a whole lot of hiking, playing cards, takeout, and pandemic-induced introspection. It was romantic in that we-have-nowhere-else-to-go kind of way.

A little over a month in, we decided to spend Thanksgiving weekend together. Four straight days in Troy's studio, and let me tell you, it was magical. By Sunday night, I found myself watching the sunset over downtown L.A. with him on the fourth-story balcony at The Brewery—the kind of spot we’d claimed as “ours” for sunsets by now. And then he asked if I wanted to stay the night or head home. Naturally, I wanted to stay... but was he sick of me yet? I mean, four days in close quarters is intense for any relationship. I asked him what he thought, trying to sound casual, and he said, “You should stay.” In that moment, I realized I was completely head over heels for this man.

Troy showed up as the partner I had been dreaming of—the perfect kind of weird to match my weird. He loved dressing up in costumes, was obsessed with live music, was an avid skier and was always down to play and make me laugh. We both had such high energy that we ended up grounding each other; we still joke that we have become each other's Ritalin.

For the first time, I was with someone who fully accepted me—no pretending, no toning down my quirks. Troy didn’t just accept the parts of me I thought might turn someone off; he celebrated them. And there I was, finally finding my person in the middle of a pandemic.

I can’t say there was a lightning-bolt moment where I thought, “Yep, she’s the one.” It was more of a slow realization that she just... was. From the start, I knew she was something special. Early on, we were on our best behavior. We both felt the spark and were concerned it might vanish if we weren’t careful.

But as we got more comfortable and started letting the weird out—let’s just say things got interesting. Our quirks, our weird little habits, they somehow synced up like a bizarre but satisfying puzzle. The more we let down the guardrails, the more we liked each other.

With Covid keeping us glued together with endless time to explore, we didn’t have much choice but to really dig in. I fell fast, but ask me for a specific moment? I don’t have one. It wasn’t love at first sight—but maybe it should have been, because deep down, I think I knew it all along.

An engagement isn’t exactly a casual affair—it’s more like planning a moon landing. Every angle analyzed, every possible mishap accounted for.

My first engagement talk was well over two years ago, with Cameron’s sister Ashleigh. The rough plan was to wait until my kids graduated college. With two years still to go, Cameron had grown tired of introducing me as her “boyfriend” and was busy creating new words to cover “more than boyfriend.”

Then, Cameron suggested we go to New York for our anniversary. When she added the Empire State Building to the agenda, it hit me: this was the place. Cameron lives for experiences. She loves surprises, grand gestures, and anything with a touch of drama. Nothing says “iconic moment” quite like a sunset proposal on top of New York.

Ashleigh, the ultimate wingwoman, was already way ahead on the ring research. She designed the perfect ring, and I got to know it myself—driving around with it on my pinky finger, occasionally leaving it on the dashboard to watch it sparkle. Of course, everyone who knew was convinced I’d lose it at some point.

Our anniversary night plan was the perfect setup. I told Cameron I was taking her to a fancy dinner, scheduled a sunset visit to the Empire State Building, and suggested we dress up. Cameron picked the ideal dress and looked amazing, which I knew she’d want when the big moment arrived.

As we walked up to the Empire State, that ring felt like it was on fire in my pocket. Cameron, thankfully, didn’t notice my nerves. At the top, we met a family, took pictures, and kept crossing paths with them. Eventually, I asked one of them to “take a picture,” but I leaned in and asked her to actually film it. She immediately understood: something big was going down. The woman framed and captured the moment perfectly.

Afterward, we were greeted by a swarm of rickshaw drivers, each more enthusiastic than the last. It felt like trying to pick a puppy with a crowd of carnival barkers cheering us on. We (they) peddled to dinner, where I seated Cameron strategically for a second surprise. She was still catching her breath when her sister leaned over and casually admired the ring. It took a beat for Cameron to realize that her sister and her husband, Royce, had flown to New York to surprise her. They planned an incredible celebration night, with a multi-course feast at one of the best spots in New York.

It was a night straight out of a movie—somehow, every little detail fell into place. My goal was to create a memory she’d hold onto forever. And I think I pulled it off. Looking back, I’m not sure how it all went so perfectly, but I’m grateful that it did.

October 13, 2024, a date I thought was just our fourth anniversary. Troy and I had agreed marriage was still two years away, so a proposal was not on my radar. This was supposed to be a weekend of art, good food, and finally going on a trip that didn’t involve us hurtling down a snow-packed mountain. Also, this was New York—land of everything we love: art, theater, endless food, the energy of the city…and apparently, surprises.

Now, we’d decided to do one quintessential tourist activity on this trip that neither of us had experienced, so we picked the Empire State Building for some “classic NYC vibes” (the ultimate in corny romance, right?). Troy went all out, even arranging for sunset on the 86th floor, and told me to wear something nice because we were going straight to a romantic dinner. I, of course, was all-in for this plan, totally oblivious.

Flash forward to the morning of our anniversary, and I’m scrolling through old photos to make an Instagram reel of our greatest hits (which may or may not include us in ridiculous costumes). I was so emotional—like, full-on ugly-cry with tears emotional—reminiscing about our years together. Troy? He was cool as a cucumber. He knew what he had planned and was giving zero hints.

After four hours at MoMA, which made me fall for him even harder as he explained art like the absolute hottie art nerd he is, we went back to the hotel to get ready. We dressed up for our dinner-slash-sightseeing, and off we went to the Empire State Building.

Once we’re there, Troy pulls out VIP tickets (yes, red carpet, fast-track, the whole nine yards), and I’m loving this special treatment. We hit the 86th floor, where I’m busy offering to take photos for other people, blissfully unaware of what’s coming. Then Troy suggests we go to the 102nd floor—one last NYC view at sunset. This floor has glass walls from floor to ceiling, and it’s like we’re on top of the world.

We find the same family from downstairs and swap photo duties again. I take their photo, Troy gives his phone to the mom, and then, out of nowhere, Troy drops to one knee in front of me.

I’m so stunned I blurt out, “Is this really happening right now?” I focus hard so I don’t accidentally blackout, only hearing him and seeing him as he asks, “Will you marry me?” Everyone else in the room disappeared, even though they were there, watching us and clapping! I say “yes” (of course), and he stands me up, about to put the ring on my finger…but on the wrong one. Cue the giggles as we fumble for the right finger before I burst into tears and give him the biggest hug ever.

Then came the FaceTimes—my parents first, while we held it together (sort of), and then Troy suggests we grab a celebratory drink before dinner. I agree, thinking this will give me time to breathe. So off we go in a pedicab, a.k.a. bicycle tuk-tuk, with Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” playing us into the evening lights.

We arrive early at the restaurant and settle in for a drink, and out of nowhere, I hear a voice behind me say, “What a beautiful ring!” I turn around, and it’s my sister! Ashleigh had flown in with her husband, Royce, to surprise us with a huge “Mazel tov!” That was when I knew Troy had not only pulled off the proposal but also planned the biggest surprise of my life.

It was officially the best night ever. For four years, Troy has never managed to surprise me. But he doubled down that night and totally nailed it.