Jamie and Tom’s romance began the way all great modern romances begin: By politely judging each other’s profiles on a dating app while hiding their initial intrigue.

Both are middle children, which means they approach love the same way they approach life—cautiously, reasonably, and with a strong desire to keep everyone happy. Well, birth order and nature be damned, as the two threw themselves into wildly irrational, head-over-heels love… almost.

Tom, a reptile-loving account manager from Connecticut, arrived at their first date on time, well-dressed, and with the quiet confidence of a man who could both quote James Bond and alphabetize his spice rack. Jamie, an attorney and lifelong Dawg, arrived five minutes late. Her outfit was intact, but her thoughts were askew, trying to think of go-to topics, as there would be no judge prompting: “How would the Commonwealth like to proceed?” Fortunately, none of that became necessary, as conversation was fluid and fate immediately sensed it had done something excellent.

On their second date, Jamie informed Tom that she came with a large gray cat named Archie and that the two were a package deal. Like a perp with an outstanding warrant, there would be no negotiation. Tom, who could sell heat lamps to desert lizards, understood a binding contract when he heard one. He agreed to take both on. Archie, after ample consideration and a bit of territorial marking, approved, which is widely considered the real turning point in their relationship.

Tom soon discovered Jamie’s enchanting tendency toward creative clutter. Jamie soon discovered Tom’s charming penchant for… vacuuming things that did not appear dirty. They agreed that the arrangement was beneficial to both parties.

Together, they discovered a love for adventure, travel, and cooking. This is how Sunday Sauce was born, a weekly culinary tradition and Instagram event, proving that true love is measured in pasta and lighting angles.

On Jamie’s first birthday while dating, Tom surprised her with a lavish NYC getaway—because nothing says, “I like you a lot,” like a Manhattan hotel suite fit for royalty, complete with butler service. If only someone, besides Tom, had packed something that needed pressing.

By 2024, the couple were wandering Italy together, eating everything in sight and agreeing that love is best measured in miles traveled and courses eaten. Somewhere between reptile conventions, courtroom victories, college football indoctrination (Tom is a Dawg-in-training), and family chaos with Tom’s five nephews and one adored niece, they realized something undeniable:

They weren’t just a good match.

They were the match.

So, in December 2025, Tom took Jamie to see Christmas lights at Silver Bell Farms. After walking through the entire display, he insisted they go round again. Jamie, freezing and slightly suspicious, thought he was completely insane for wanting to start over given the temperature and lack of alcohol. In hindsight, Jamie claims he needed more time to build up his courage; Tom insists he was merely waiting for a kid-free moment—James Bond would do as much. Either way, under the glow of the lights, Tom got down on one knee—and Jamie said yes (in so many words, IYKYK).

And on December 5, 2026, Jamie and Tom will officially do what everyone — including Archie — already knows: Make their perfectly balanced, slightly messy, deeply joyful partnership permanent.

And honestly, it’s the most sensible decision two middle children ever planned.