Grooms Version,

It’s the summer of 2019. The Driscolls were kind enough to invite everyone out to their lake cabin to celebrate the Fourth of July. The day was beautiful; the sun was shining and Windsor was flowing. This year’s main event: The Dweebs. I was prepping my dance shoes for the evening when out of nowhere, a brown-haired, Venezuelan beauty in a yellow bikini fell out of the sky directly in front of my face. My jaw hit the floor. How was I supposed to dance like a complete buffoon with my mother all night if she was around? Do I need to behave? What do I do with my hands?

Before I knew it, my mom and I were in front of the main stage. 100 people watching and not another soul dancing with us. I thought that was the end of my story with this unknown angel. But I was wrong. Out of the corner of my eye I was watching. For some unknown reason, this goddess seemed to be interested. She was smiling; laughing. I am not sure if it was at me or with me. But, before I knew it, she was joining us. Is she crazy? Is this some mating call for angels? Whatever it was, I am glad it worked. Because we proceeded to spend the rest of the night dancing together to the world’s best 80s and 90s cover band.

Time seemed nonexistent that day. The two of us stayed up late into the next morning; talking, laughing, swimming, and doing pretty much any other thing that a cheesy Hallmark movie script contains. I finally fell asleep on the hammock outside my parent’s camper. Shortly thereafter, I was awoken by my father, very strictly informing me that even though I was hungover, I had to help pack up as it was time to head back to Watertown. We packed the camper, said our goodbyes, and hit the road. “How did you not get her number?” “Who is this person?” – these were the only thoughts that crossed my mind. I proceeded to discuss my attraction to the unearthly goddess with my parents the entire car ride home. We determined that I had to find a way to contact her. I mustered up every last bit of courage I had, and in typical millennial fashion, sent her the best Direct Message (“DM”) I could think of: “Hey, add me on snap so I can send you very sporadic snaps of the gang sign Skogs and I created 😊.” *It should be noted, the “gang sign” I was referencing was created by her, and was used to reflect someone that was acting like a wussy. She had used it on me several times the night prior for wanting to retire to my comfy bed and get a good night’s sleep.* To my surprise, she responded. The rest is history.

We fought the long-distance relationship issues for some time, as she was a sophomore in college, attending school in Mitchell, SD. I was a 2nd year law student in Vermillion, SD. The ride was a little bumpy, but who’s isn’t? Somewhere along the way, I found myself feeling lost without her. She was more than a girlfriend to me at this point, she was my partner. Someone that helped me to be a better version of myself. The worst part… she is incredibly like my mother. As the saying goes, every man grows up to marry his own mom. Well, on September 6, 2024, that is the commitment I made. I nervously planned the best engagement party I could think of, ensuring that I incorporated “our daughter,” a 2-year-old yellow lab with more energy than the Energizer Bunny. That day, I asked that brown-haired, Venezuelan beauty to share the rest of her life with me. Just as I was surprised she responded to such a pathetic DM, I was equally surprised when she cried tears of joy, and said yes. Now we are set to wed, with hopes of taking on the world together, forever sharing in the world’s greatest treasure: memories with one another. That brown-haired, blue-eyed goddess, once named Kyllie Ramirez, is now going to be my wife, a Koehn. What a life.

-Mitchell

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