We met the old-fashioned way: I sold her a used mattress that had been left in my basement by a previous tenant. I was captivated by her smile, and she was impressed with my ability to drag a dirty old mattress up a flight of stairs without breaking a sweat. And by that I mean without a break in the outpouring of sweat from my face and back.

Sweat would become a central theme to our gradual flirtations over the coming months. I invited myself to a hike she was going on with friends, to Mount Mitchell, the highest point east of the Mississippi River, where I wore flannel and jeans to look mountain-chic. When we reached the top, I was so drenched in sweat that a total stranger asked if I had fallen into a lake, in complete sincerity. Luisa then guilted that stranger (who had driven to the top like a yuppie dandy boy) into giving me a ride to the bottom so I wouldn't have to hike back down. She gave me a hug and said the sweat didn't bother her. I knew this was someone special, that rare kind of someone who will hug you and say she is not at all repulsed by your completely-drenched, not-a-dry-spot-to-be-seen-or-unfortunately-felt body, even though she just did the exact same hike and is still on her first shirt and totally dry, but whatever.

A month later, she asked my lame cover band to play at her birthday party, and I made them. We played Smash Mouth's "All Star" for 8 minutes and Taylor Swift's "22" (the number of years old she was turning), which our guitarist refused to learn, so it sounded even more terrible than Taylor Swift already sounds. I similarly got so sweaty from rockin' and rollin' (while fueled by nothing but white russians made with half-and-half) that when her friend told me to ask Luisa out already with a pat to my chest, a thunderously loud and wet slap reverberated off of every wall in the house, and she had to peel her hand off of me like a piece of melted gum off the asphalt in summer. I asked Luisa out, she said yes, and kissed me, and then said that the sweat didn't bother her.

Five years and thousands of gallons of sweat later, I asked her to spend the rest of her life with me, not being bothered by my sweat. I guess she meant it.