We moved our date farther out to October of next year and finally agreed on a venue.

And here's a red panda winking.

P.S.- Hi, Gary. Our #1 fan. We know you're watching!

♊ Unlike most things produced in Miami during the 1980s, I am not neon colored and black-light reactive nor am I a white, powdery substance. Luckily, being an infant meant that I never owned a pastel sports jacket with rolled sleeves. I did, however, rock a pretty mean mullet and half-shirt combo (thanks, mom).

Oddly enough, I grew up in the suburbs and didn't even realize that the city existed until I was in my early 20s. I guess that's why they call it the 'Magic City"; because most of the fun parts just sort of appeared when I turned 21. Long story short, I made some friends, learned some lessons, and figured out what I wanted to do with my life.

In 2008, my family packed up and moved to Port Saint Lucie. Having just ended a relationship, and being stuck in a go-nowhere job, I decided the best thing to do was to make a fresh start in a new town.

It wasn't long after that I finally got the call I'd been waiting for. In 2010, I was accepted to the Florida Highway Patrol Academy. I went off to Tallahassee to follow my dream of being a police officer and helping others. After 8 months of training, I was stationed back home in PSL.

I enjoyed my new career and finally felt like everything was coming together for me. Except, something was missing...

♐ I too was born in the 80's, but so close to the end that I keep getting lumped in with those darn 90's kids. The place was Jacksonville FL, and I made things quite an exciting pregnancy for my folks being a trouble-maker and the first half of a set of twins. (I say "first half" because those eleven minutes really count.) I was a very tiny baby who got to go straight to what my folks jokingly call "the tanning bed". I guess it was a bit of a premonition to my early childhood. I'm sure my parents knew then that things would get pretty real as I grew up.

I was fortunate enough to travel to different countries as a baby thanks to my military family and regret that I don't remember most of it. We did come back to Jacksonville and I wish I was still as bold as my kindergartener-self that climbed back up a slide to punch a boy in the face for pulling my (rather long) hair simply because I was not going down the slide fast enough. Eventually we settled down in Puerto Rico! I developed a wonderful tan roaming the base and the beaches. I miss it so much and I'm so grateful to have grown up on such a fantastic island. I'll always talk about the crystal-clear water and lovely wildlife; Especially El Coqui. It was during this time, I believe, that I grew my animal-loving heart and learned so much about as many as I could-- And still do!

Well, we found our way back to Florida and I somehow lost that island tan. I was like any other kid who had just moved from their "home" to some strange place. However, I did adapt quickly. I was a bit of a loner and did not really talk much to anyone. I had a small group of friends, but I would prefer to be with my teachers even if I didn't always do their assigned homework. But I would say they enjoyed my company as well anyway. I spent much time quietly drawing as I have been doing since I could hold something to draw with. I didn't even think of dating in high school.

Into adulthood I had many struggles including dating a few toads along the way. I often worried about my future. What do I want to go to college for? What kind of job will I have? Will I be good at this job? What if this job isn't what I expected? What if I go insane? When will the questions end?! Where will I live? What kind of fuzzy/scaly/feathery/leathery/really hairy household guardian(s) will I have? What kind of home will I live in? Who will I love? While the struggle is still very real, I believe one has been figured out...

As with all historical accounts submitted to the annals of history, this record is being written by one who survived the events, but will be subject to revision by the victor. (All of my, the victor's, notes will be in parentheses!)For the sake of brevity, the victor is the one who tricked me into buying a giant rock for her hand. (A bootiful diomand ring! You guys should go on YouTube and look up "The Pop tart Tragedy".)

It was July of 2011. Beloved TV Icon Charlie Sheen was touting the health benefits of Tiger Blood and dangerous pharmaceuticals. America was still reeling from the crippling depression brought on by James Franco blowing his hosting gig at the Oscars. Meanwhile, our neighbors across the pond were busy celebrating the marriage of the prince who didn't embarrass the Queen and the worldwide debut of his new sister-in-law's derriere (Pippa's got it, so she can flaunt it!). We were mere months away from people camping out on Wall St for income equality and West 14th St for the iPhone 4s. Kim Kardashian and Kanye West were still years away from giving birth to a new level of self-importance and, with the release of Game of Thrones only months earlier, Justin Beiber's transformation from annoying teenage pop singer into King Joffrey had only just begun. Katy Perry told Russell Brand to stop doing The Creep and became a Firework, while we sang the Party Rock Anthem and CeeLo Green tried to convince us that his hit break-up song was actually called Forget You (Riiiiiiiiight... "Forget" You. Sure thing, Mr. Green. *Wink*). On the internet, Nyan Cat was busy dashing across the galaxy to avoid being adopted and having to wear a little bowtie, planking was all the rage, Rebecca Black was reminding us what days comprised the weekend, and people were surprised to find that there wasn't a honey badger in their beds; it was just Chuck Testa.

So, back in those halcyon days, before all the cool kids were swiping left and right with their Tinders and Grinders and whatnot, people used to have to make snap judgments about a possible romantic partner based on a few pictures and a some short paragraphs on OkCupid. You could rate someone between 1 and 5 stars. If you rated them at 4 or 5, you would be informed that you 'matched'. This is the story of one of those matches.

A few simple mouse-clicks lead to a message who's content is lost to history, but I'm sure was both sophisticated and suave. (More like, "A cute and quirky girl who likes to go to the range?I'd be kicking myself in the teeth if I didn't say hi!")This lead to a series of messages, which begat phone-calls, which begat the all-important first date. The ways of my people -poor, 20-something bachelors- dictated that I make the traditional offerings of dinner and a movie. So, after a long drive into the middle of nowhere, I finally arrived and the awkward first meeting began. (He commented later that he though that he was going to get chased down by some creepy serial killer who has a torture dungeon in their house. It was only me, my dad, my brother, a few cats, a fish, and a dog.)

The first thing I noticed was how pretty she was. (I noticed he was pretty handsome as well, and spent most of our first date trying to avoid eye-contact as if he were Medusa or something. I was too shy.) Obviously, I'd seen pictures before our meeting, but they did not do her justice. I'll spare the rest of the mushy details, but there was good steak(Good martinis), good movie, good conversation and it left me just a bit smitten.

Over the next few years, date night became spending the weekends together, spending the weekends together became living together. Smitten became love and love became Love. There were adventures and misadventures. We cowered in fear of Weird Al's crotch(Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaa there! Allow me to explain: During a Weird Al concert Al walked into the audience and picked one lucky lady [who was not me] to have his crotch acquainted with an uncomfortable distance to her face. We were sitting pretty close by to this scene.), got chased in circles by chainsaw wielding maniacs (The chainsaw guy gave up after he realized he would be chasing me in circles while I laughed at the idea of how comical this looked to other HHN goers.), got drunk and accidentally a whole half chicken (That's not a typo. I was particularly drunk and talked through eating dinner and before I knew it that half of chicken vanished.). We met some z-grade celebrities (Hi, Jay and Silent Bob!). We dragged our tropically raised selves to Connecticut during the coldest winter on record (It wasn't so bad... I just wish I could have mastered those icy sidewalks instead of taking baby-steps everywhere I went and occasionally busting my butt on the pavement.), learned that a wine-glass is not an appropriate receptacle for Fireball (I thought it was goldschlager...), and discovered that building snowmen is a lot harder than it looks (Even though it was a cute little guy!).

It was during one of our adventures that I entered a Kay Jewelers with a good weekend beard worked up and wearing some ratty shorts and flip-flops. It took a bit of time to get a salesperson to reluctantly come over and assist me, but after a quick credit check, she became quite helpful.

So, a few weeks later, there we were at EPCOT Center with a little black jewel-box in my pocket. With some quick maneuvering by my brother Dan and our friend Joe (I like to call him "Joe BRUHGUH. Super nice guy. Thanks, Joe! C: ), I was able to secure a private viewing area for the nightly fireworks show (With these silly glasses that turned lights into Mickey heads.). We timed it out so that my proposal would coincide with lull just before the finale, so, while she was watching the fireworks, I was watching Dan, who was watching Joe (BRUHGUH. We can't say his name without his last name.), who was waiting to give me the cue. In the end, it all worked out perfectly, and now here we are starting a new adventure.