If you ask our friends, they'll tell you our "how we met" story sounds like something out of a TV show. It turns out Robin and I lived only about 100 yards away from each other when we met. At the time, neither of us were actively looking for our person - we both felt established in our lives and had our own circles of friends.

Enter: The Civic Taproom and Bottle Shop – what would become our “Cheers” bar. It was there that Robin and I met, thanks to some regulars who would often rave about this guy named "Robin", always mentioning how he was constantly working, but whenever he had a break, he would be at the Taproom.

Every time I encountered Robin at the Taproom, he was wearing his backwards baseball cap and sunglasses and would greet me with his signature "hey, whatsup, hello?" Our conversations grew longer, filled with quiet, snarky jokes only I could hear. I quickly learned about his love for spraying champaign (an art form), and that he could not be trusted while playing beer poker. It wasn't long before Robin started walking me home, and continued for the next five months.

Despite all the time we spent together, Robin never made a move. I decided to test the waters at the end of our routine walk home by kissing him on the cheek, seeing if he would make some sort of move.

He didn't. He literally ran away.

The next day we had plans to go to a Timbers game together with a couple of his friends before he had to catch a flight to Wisconsin for a wedding. I had insisted on driving him to the airport, so after the game we ended up back at my apartment, luggage in hand, ready to go. Most of the conversation before we left was a blur until he muttered under his breath, "this might be a terrible idea." before he finally kissed me.

The rest is, as they say, history. We quickly became inseparable. The “I love you”s came quickly and effortlessly. And now here we are – writing this story with our giant rescue pup laying across our feet.

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