We met at Jamestown College (it'll never be University of Jamestown to me, sorry). Almost ten years later, we reconnected through the magic of modern dating - Tinder. After matching, Peter asked me out on a date that same night and picked me up at almost 10pm after, you guessed it, a hockey game. We went to a place now very near to our hearts, W.A. Frost on Selby Ave and caught up and shared stories of mutual friends and the horrors of being an adult figuring life out. After a moonlit walk down the cobblestones of Virginia Avenue, Peter dropped me off at my door, and before I had latched the door, he was calling asking when he could see me again.

Nearly five years later, as we said goodbye to our first house, Peter stood on the same stairs he left me at after our first date and asked me to be his wife, and I happily said yes.

I didn’t really know Lara while we were at our beloved alma mater, the University of Jamestown. She seemed friendly and nice, but we never shared more than a dozen words during the three years we were on campus together.

Cute. Glasses. That would probably be the extent of my mental Rolodex file marked “Lara.”

Fast-forward several years, and I’m at the rink. My Tinder had been dormant for weeks. I am not as charming as Lara is on the internet. For some reason, I wore real clothes to our Bantam Elite League games that night, eschewing sweats for some Dickies and a tie-dye shirt.

Thank God I dolled up.

I was hanging over the glass, camera in one hand, phone in the other, swiping away when Lara popped up. Honestly, I did not view her Tinder profile and immediately think, “YEAH, FUTURE WIFE.” She was still cute, she still wore glasses, and now she had dogs. I swiped and matched for the first time in a month.

I picked Lara up later that night, and we hit WA Frost. I’m pretty sure Daniel was our bartender that evening, as he has been for me on dozens of occasions. Daniel is one more thread in this quilt of luck and good fortune I’ve tried to weave with Lara.

She laughed at my jokes, told a few of her own, and I was smitten. The light she carries within her is obvious. And, yes, I called as soon as she reached her door that night to ask for a second date.

On our last day living on Sherburne Ave. in June of 2023, it just felt right. Lara stood at the top of the stairs. I stood at the bottom. I began crying and blurted out the question I’d wanted to ask for a very, very long time.

It turns out we both still want to get married after planning a wedding, so YEAH, FUTURE WIFE.

Love ya, Lar.