Like many modern love stories, this one started with a carefully crafted dating profile and just the right amount of skepticism. They met on Match.com, which is basically the digital version of making eye contact across a crowded room, if that room had a thousand people and an algorithm playing matchmaker.

Their first date was sushi: neutral territory, low stakes, and an easy escape route if things got weird. She was fresh out of a relationship and a car accident (unrelated). He was newly venturing into the world of online dating. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and before they knew it, they were being politely kicked out of the bar next door at closing time. Between them they had four kids, two exes, an emotionally damaged cat, and absolutely no expectations. But somewhere between the spicy tuna roll and last call, something quietly clicked, like two puzzle pieces realizing, “Hey, I think we go together.”

The next day (Narrator: Ten hours later) they found themselves on what might technically count as a second date: car shopping. Yes, car shopping. Her car had been totaled earlier that week, and he tagged along, partly as moral support, partly out of curiosity. Eight hours, three dealerships, and several overly confident salesmen later, they had gone from polite strangers to a surprisingly well-coordinated team. It was easy. Alarmingly easy.

The only real challenge? Timing. Their parenting schedules were exact opposite, an endless waltz of trying to spend any time together, even if it was a joint grocery shopping outing on a Sunday afternoon. (Hy-Vee, surprisingly, has amazing playlists.) They made do with late-night calls, texts, and shared memes until their calendars aligned. When they finally did get time together, they filled it with music, wine, dancing, and 5 a.m. workouts that make everyone else question their sanity to this day.

Their relationship grew around shared rituals: Wordle, the New York Times' crossword, and cheese boards that could’ve fed small armies. He tolerates her true-crime obsessions and neurotic dishwasher-loading techniques; she endures his love of NASCAR, brussels sprouts, and his absolute refusal to leave any party before the lights come on. (He has no respect for an artful Irish goodbye.)

Over the years, they slowly blended their families and survived the ultimate test this past summer: a four-day, five-person road trip across Nebraska in one minivan. (Twizzlers can really bring people together.)

It was never a question of if they’d spend their lives together, just when.

And then came Switzerland. A mountain trail, a thousand-foot climb, and a quiet overlook that felt like the world had saved it just for them. That’s where he proposed.

Now it’s on to the next phase of their journey, and they can’t wait to see where life takes them next.