To whom it may concern,

The relationship between myself and Tut (né Christopher) has always clung tightly to the promise of "one day", but we never felt it was in reach. Instead, Tut and I focused our energy on growing into people we could be proud of and we've had a whole lot of fun along the way. We sincerely can't believe we're here now.

The story of how we met is a bit foggy, as we grew up in the same school class. Technically, we met in sixth grade. We both have memories of math class confusion as there were two Chris-es in the room, aside from myself. This meant he was Chris T., and I was Christy. On top of my hate/hate relationship with numbers, this curated a deeper Twilight Zone affect for the duration of every class. You see, middle school is also when my understanding of math took a rapid decline. There are many things we can blame for this - family circumstance, puberty, boredom - but for the sake of the story, I say we blame Chris T.

Let’s flash forward to senior year. Tut and I are friendly acquaintances. Both athletes in different social circles and some of the same classes, we’d always share a “hello” in the hall. Tut’s locker was next to one of my best friends', and he was a student in AP Photography with three others. As many girls might know, this meant there were always Tuttle stories shared and giggled about.

We both, at the time, were incredibly anxious about dates and dating. As prom approached, the butterflies in our stomachs turned to a heaviness as we felt the weight of the season and our being dateless. This is when my friends in photography with Tut began planting the idea of him asking me to the dance into his mind. Tuttle swears that the day another student asked me, he was planning to do the same. I, personally, don’t buy it. And so, we went with other people.

I suppose this ordeal serves as a precursor to the long-winded, avoidant, and testing journey that is our growth as people and partners so many years into the future.

After freshman year of college, my girlfriends and Tut’s high school buddies spent the summer weaving our groups together, into one supergroup we later coined “The Milkpeople”. To this day, the title has no real backstory, though there are myths and legends. These people became family to us both. Through the years, we've grown into a group of over 30.

Tut and I became close friends through and with the Milkpeople, and developed a mutual admiration and understanding for one another that was difficult to define. He was the type of man you’d see having trouble, but you’d root for him in a way you didn’t for others. You were entertained by the lessons he learned the hard way; but you really, really, really wanted for him to get it right.

That school year, Tut visited me at Brockport with two of our best friends, and it was clear then, if it wasn’t already, that he liked me. I knew I did too, but those who know me well know that I couldn’t even hug another person, let alone go through the natural stages of butterflies-to-dating.

Thus began the pushes and questions from friends, who saw clearly what I was avoiding, along with the, “is she leading him on?” and “what is even going on with them?” conversations over beers and frozen pizzas. Call me stunted, but I got there, haters; years later … but I got there.

Even then, I knew in my gut I was going to marry Chris Tuttle. But I wasn't ready, and knew he was the real deal. I also knew that the path forward wasn’t an effortless one. I needed to knock a few walls down, he needed to polish up his edges, and we both needed a good deal of growth.

That summer, I came home excited to spend the months ahead with my buddies. At every turn, they’d remind me how much I had in common with Tuttle, and how much we made sense. I always, emphatically and uncomfortably, denied it. Tuttle, however, has always been my biggest fan.

One night at what we called the “Milkhouse” (our UB friends' apartment), I asked a friend to mediate my possibly liking Tuttle back (I should really learn to be more direct). This ignited a summer of whispered will they, won’t they. From concerts to nights in with friends, we always found a way to sneak off and be awkward together.

In August, Tuttle finally asked me on a date in my friend’s basement during a party. I agreed, and we planned, in front of people (why?) to go kayaking. Later, as I was turning from the front lawn onto the cul-de-sac to walk home, Tut ran after me, asked if he could kiss me, grabbed my shoulders and completely missed my mouth – catching the tip of my nose. He tried again, then asked if he could walk me home, and so he did.


You’d think this would be a turning point for the better, but it only left me more uncomfortable with my own, very large, feelings. Meanwhile, Tuttle walked all the way back to our friend’s house, couldn’t sleep, borrowed a bike, rode to Tops and grabbed a bunch of eggs, rode back, and woke everyone up at the house with a poorly seasoned, runny egg breakfast. They were concerned. He was so ecstatic he needed to share it.


For six months, we danced this dance. He’d visit me with friends at school, text me all day, and was so patient with me. I was brutal to get a read on, but for some reason he felt I was worth the trouble of continuing to try. We both didn’t date anyone else, and by Winter break, he was determined to make me his girlfriend. By the end of January, I finally came to my senses.

Since then, our relationship has been a strong, goofy, dependable love story that I am so grateful to be a part of. We’ve been consistently supported and guided by friends and family, and would not exist without the love we’ve felt, to an overwhelming level, by so many people in our lives. Our story will never be just ours. We are immensely lucky.

Tut and I used to talk about when we’d finally get married. The joke, from the beginning, was always “seven to ten years”. This timeline felt both too far away and just within reach. Whether you do or don’t believe in the power of manifestation, this joke seemed to set a timeline in motion in real-life. And so - eight years, one month, and thirteen days down the road on a clear, dark Florida night in March, Tut walked me to the beach and asked me to marry him. The only witnesses were some seagulls, the moon, and a couple dudes with metal detectors.

For us, the moment wasn’t a big, overwhelming, whirlwind gesture; we’ve never been those people. Instead, it served more as an affirmation: we had made it, but we’d already been committed and living it.

On our timeline Tut and I never broke up, we always talked the tough times through, we loved one another through the lulls, and we came out on the other side more fulfilled, complete human beings. Most importantly - we kept laughing.

Through sickness and health, for richer or poorer (mainly poorer, though we welcome the "richer" phase to come along any time), in good times and bad - we've got that part down. I know we don't really know anything yet... but if this is what a lifetime looks a little bit like, sign me up!

Many of the best parts of who I am today did not emerge before Chris Tuttle. He’s given me the space to grow into the friend that I am, and he sees me as the best version of myself – often when it isn’t and hasn’t been apparent. I wish everyone could have a Tuttle. I suppose, in a way, all of you do.

With love,

Christy