I’ve told “our story” so many times, it’s hard to know which details are true and which have attached themselves to it like stickers or burrweed, somewhere along the way. For example, near the very end of our story, I like to note that “the clouds parted and the sun shone, when I knelt on one knee and popped the question”; but I’m pretty sure the weather that whole day was unremarkably crummy. Julea also refuses to acknowledge that she had a crush on me, when we were both at Harding together, which I can assure you is flatly untrue. (I, on the other hand, have no problem admitting that she lived, rent-free, in the back of my mind as “The One Who Got Away” for at least three years.) For as many details that I’ve invented, there are twice as many over which Julea and I argue.

And so, if I was a responsible writer, I would probably preface this retelling with something like “Most of what follows is true” (see Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid) or “All events described herein actually happened, though on occasion the author has taken certain, very small, liberties … because that is his right as an American” (read Dave Eggers' memoir, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius).

Instead, I’ll simply say that you’ve drawn the short end of the stick. This story is best told in person, with Julea at the helm and myself (Justin) in the brig.

But we’ll make do.

Actually, I’ll do you one better: Consider this botched attempt at storytelling an elaborate prologue to some future moment, when Julea and I are able to sit down with you and recount the whole of it together. After all, Julea tends to add splashes of color to portions of the story I’d otherwise breeze through. If “our story” is a painting, my bit is the boring old canvas, and Julea’s is the individual brushstrokes. Every last one of them.

When I do eventually get around to “the beginning,” I’ll more than likely lay out an elaborate (but neatly linear) timeline of events that brought us from there to here; whereas, if Julea had been tasked with condensing these last three years into 300+ words, she’d have likely spent less time prefacing the task itself and more time bouncing between the anecdotes that really matter. Sure, yes, we will get to both. But, at the end of the day, I believe it’s her sidebars and interjections that make our story what it is. The rabbit holes, the weekend trips, the inside jokes, even the moments—or months—we choose to splice out.

Those kinds of things are what make a story worth telling. To me, the details don’t matter nearly as much as the fact that our story is one that unfolds, in its retelling, with as much laughter and love as it did over the years we lived it.

But you won’t get any of that, stuck here on this blank page with me, will you? No, you won’t. Instead you’re getting a bland old timeline. Consider it a teaser.

July 2, 1997

Justin was thrust into the world, pen and paper in hand, destined to one day to write his and Julea’s “Our Story” on TheKnot.com. He did not cry. His then 6.5 year-old (and impatiently excited) sister, Nicole, took him immediately into her arms, stuck her thumb in his mouth, and began the delicate and all-consuming work of raising him to be her life-long best friend.

April 23, 1999

Julea followed suit, crashing into her parents’ lives as their first born daughter, whereafter she cried inconsolably (and is rumored never to have stopped).

As little sister Emma and baby brother Tucker were only a few years behind her, she would spend those first few years of her life soaking up as much of the limelight as humanly possible—as she knew, the moment they were both born, she would not be doted on and adored in the same way until…

August something, 2017

… Julea graduated High School and accepted a full-ride scholarship to Harding University, where Justin spent the last two years preparing himself to meet the love of his life at the top of the steps of The Benson Auditorium, where on August something, 2017, he opened the door for Julea on her first day as an undergraduate student, smiled shyly, and said “Welcome to Harding, miss. My, you look lovely today.” She smiled back indifferently, brushed away a strand of hair, and pushed past him—eager to date boys her own age for the following four years, while Justin waited patiently for her to exhaust herself with lesser men and realize that she was meant to marry someone that actually loved her for who she was.

Pre-Spring Break, 2019

Justin has had enough. His years-long crush on Julea has driven him to madness. That semester, he heard that Julea was celebrating a birthday party on Harding’s front lawn, so he decided now was the moment to overcome his fear and make his move. He attended the party, where he found Julea surrounded by a hoard of young suitors, vying for her attention—and so he turned and left, disappointed, deflated, but not yet deterred.

Spring Break was only weeks away and, as it turned out, Julea was headed to Fresno with the girlfriends of the boys with whom Justin planned to spend the week in Vero Beach. This was his moment. So what did he do? He made a funny video on Instagram that he sent to Julea without any context. And what did she do? She sent one back. This infrequent but semi-regular DM (i.e., direct message) exchange would carry them from 2019 to…

… Summer, 2021

Over the preceding two years, Julea and Justin each watched the other grow farther and farther away. In 2019, Justin decided not to pursue a relationship with Julea, since he planned to leave Searcy after he graduated that Fall and didn’t want to distract her from her final few years dating random nobodys as an undergrad. He moved to L.A., got a job at an ad agency, then quit that job and moved to Portland to start grad school. If you think the West coast is far away, after Julea graduated from college, she moved to Rome to take a job as an au pair.

They were as far away from each other on planet earth as humanly possible (9,321 km, to be exact). The possibility of a relationship between the two of them faded into the background of their lives, a distant and improbable dream…

… until Julea posted a stack of thrifted books on her Instagram, sandwiched in the middle of which was Justin’s favorite book of all time, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway.

“You’ve got to read The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway first,” he said over DM. “Oh? The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway, you say?” Julea replied. “Yes, it’s fantastic, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway is my favorite book of all time.” “Then I will read The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway and tell you what I think about Ernest Hemingway’s debut novel, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway.”

That fall, the two lovebirds began chatting and, well, never stopped chatting. Thanks Ernie.

January (Beginning), 2022

Julea moves into an apartment in Denver. Her roommate is Avery-Kiira Abney, an old summer camp friend of Justin’s. The door was wide open. And, lucky for all of us, Justin walked through it.

January (End), 2022

Justin visits Julea in Denver. She plans their first date: Lunch at Popeye’s and an afternoon at the Denver Art Museum. Justin decides he is going to marry Julea one day. Their friend Payton peer pressures them to “DTR” (i.e., define the relationship).

February 2, 2022

Justin and Julea DTR. Finally.

Spring, 2022

Justin graduates from PNCA. Julea moves cross-country to Portland; gets a job at the DIY bar; becomes best friends with Nicole, Justin’s legal guardian; and our two love birds decide they are going to grow old together, etc.

Summer, 2022

Justin, Julea, Nicole, Michael, Cooper (the dog), and Honey (the dog) decide to move to San Diego, because they heard rent was more expensive there and that sounded like a fun way to build character.

2022-2024

Justin and Julea built lots of character.

October 11, 2024

Justin and Julea adopt “Bee,” later renamed “Bean,” which is short for “Beans,” who is their biological dog daughter, marking a beautiful beginning to the rest of their lives as dog parents.

January something, 2025

Justin and Julea and Bean(s) move to Portland, because they have built as much character as one’s savings account should reasonably allow.

February 2, 2025

The clouds parted, the sun shone, and Justin knelt on one knee and popped the question.

Text by Justin, visuals by Julea. <3