Our journey hasn’t been conventional for many reasons:

First, we met on OKCupid — a phrase I never expected to write, even in this day and age when online dating is the norm rather than the exception.

Second, his opening message was a personalized version of the Darth Plagueis monologue from Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Now, anyone who knows me knows I love a good Star Wars prequels quoting session, and anyone who knows that movie knows that monologue is spoken by the ultimate villain of the entire Star Wars saga: Emperor Palpatine. But right away I could tell that Ken and his intentions were not of the dark side. He expertly blended his “elevator pitch” of himself with something I deeply enjoyed. I thought, “This guy’s speaking my language! I need to talk to him!”

Third, just four months after we met and started dating, I broke it off because I was, in short, going through it. I’ll spare the details, but suffice to say it was a mix of external stress brought on by pet deaths and nursing school plus internal conflict brought on by OCD, the anxiety disorder I was diagnosed with when I was 12. When I explained all of this through streams of tears one night, he said he understood and that maybe it was for the best: we lived an hour and a half away from each other anyway.

Obviously that’s not the end of our story, but at the time, I thought it would be. The autumn after I completed my degree, however, despite everything, I found myself falling for him again. He remained steadfast and patient as I went through intensive therapy to address not only my OCD but also childhood trauma that was contributing to it. He became my best friend as I completed nursing school and got licensed as an RN, and I became his as well. We shared our hopes, fears, rants and raves, memes, music, anime, and fanfiction. I realized I didn’t want anyone else to have him—and little did I know he was carrying a torch for me as well, just waiting, ready to offer his hand only when I was ready to take it.

The night of January 20, 2022, I did. Sort of. I didn’t take his hand: I kissed him, because a voice inside told me if I didn’t I would regret it. Anxiety raged within me that night—would we break up again? Would we be right for each other? Would he get tired of my never-ending mental health issues?—but I pressed forward, refusing to backpedal just because I was afraid. My therapist taught me how to expose myself to anxiety without being mastered by it, and what better way to confront my relationship anxiety than by being in a relationship! But I stayed because of more than just that: I wanted him, not just a relationship, and the same inner voice that told me to kiss him told me that this person, this second chance at love, was worth it no matter what would come our way as a result.

That voice—which in retrospect I honestly think was God because He does have a way of making these things happen—was right.