I never thought I'd meet someone like Alexa—and I DEFINITELY didn't plan on trying a dating app—but that's exactly how it happened.

In November 2022, boredom got the best of me, and I downloaded Hinge. I figured it was a waste of time, but hey, why not? A week later, I matched with Alexa, and we started talking. She was in New York at the time, so we messaged back and forth for weeks before finally planning our first date.

That date? Hands down, the most awkward evening of my life. At least at first…

We went ice skating at the Galleria. I was stuck in traffic and late, and when I finally got there, I met Alexa in the parking garage. First thought? Dang, she's tall… 5'7" and wearing platform shoes. So, we walked inside-awkwardly, tried to make small talk-failed, then finally got onto the ice. We skated along for a few short moments and things were looking better. And then—mid-sentence—I caught an edge and went down. Hard. Face first. Sliding across the ice like a cartoon character.

When I looked up, the first thing I saw was Alexa crying and laughing next to me, unable to breathe because she was laughing so hard. At that moment, I had a choice: be embarrassed or laugh with her. I chose to laugh, and just like that, the ice—literally and figuratively—was broken.

After that, the date actually went pretty well. I fell a few more times, she laughed a lot, and at the end of the night, she invited me to church with her that Sunday. From there, everything moved fast—I met her friends, we spent New Year's together, and by January 5, 2023, I asked her to be my girlfriend, and she said yes.

For four months, everything was great. We had fun, I became close with her friends, and life was good. I could feel things getting serious, but everything was so new that I didn't know what I wanted. I knew I cared about her, but I wasn't sure how to process how quickly things were moving. I felt like the right thing to do was to break up, so I did.

At first, it felt like the right decision. But then, after two weeks, I realized something—I missed her. Every time I talked to someone new, I was just looking for her in them. But by then, it was too late - the damage was done, and I had to deal with my decision.

We still saw each other in our friend group, which complicated things. On top of that, she had decided to move to New Jersey. We tried pretending there were no lingering feelings, but that didn't last long.

One night, a group of us were hanging out, and I noticed Alexa had stepped outside. She'd been gone for a while, so I went to check on her. We ended up sitting in her car, finally admitting the feelings we had both been trying to ignore. But she was still going to New Jersey. We talked for days, trying to figure out what to do, but ultimately, we decided we had to let go.

A week later, we had a group trip to San Antonio. We spent hours together, knowing how we felt but choosing not to act on it. It was delusional. It was surreal. And it was the moment I realized—I was willing to wait.

When Alexa moved to New Jersey, I did try to move on. I tried to accept that she was gone and might never come back—or at least not back to me. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was the one. Months passed. We barely talked—except for the rare group FaceTimes, where we'd always "just happen" to be the last two people left on the call.

Then came New Year's. It was the first time I'd see her again in person. I had convinced myself I was over it, that I had moved on. And then she walked in, and every ounce of that so-called progress went out the window. I was more in love with her than ever.

But I knew the odds weren't in my favor. She would have to decide to move back. She would have to still have feelings for me. The chances of that? Felt like basically zero.

Or so I thought.

Shortly after the new year, I got a text from Alexa. She was moving back.

I told myself not to get my hopes up. Just because she was coming back didn't mean we'd get back together. But then, at a worship event, I sat there praying, asking God why I still had feelings for her—why it was so hard to move on.

And I remember the response so clearly: "You haven't asked."

I was confused. Of course I had asked! I had asked why over and over again.

"No, you haven't asked ME for MY daughter."

So, I did. That night, I called Alexa and told her the truth. I still have feelings for you. If you don't feel the same, that's okay—I just need you to know.

She admitted she felt the same, but so much had happened, and she needed time. After waiting nearly 11 months, I was more than willing to wait however long she needed. So we started talking again.

And then, we called dibs.

We weren't "official" yet, but we knew—we were it for each other. We tried to keep it low-key around our friends, holding hands under the Bible at church and under the table at dinner, trying to act like nothing was happening. We failed miserably. Everyone knew, but they played along.

From there, everything moved fast, but this time, I was all in. I built a relationship with her family, we worked through the trust issues from before, and I knew—without a doubt—I was going to propose.

Four months later, her family invited me on a trip to Cancun. That was my moment.

Before the trip, I knew I wanted to propose, but first, I had to ask her dad for his blessing. I was nervous, overthinking every possible outcome—but the conversation went better than I could have imagined. He gave me his full blessing, and at that moment, everything felt real. I was going to marry Alexa.

I had the ring, booked a photographer, and planned every detail to keep it a surprise. Then, a slight curveball—her mom accidentally let it slip that I had met with her dad. When Alexa told me, I knew I had to throw her off track.

So, I played it cool. I told her planning a proposal on short notice would be impossible—that I’d need time to get a photographer, pick a ring, and that I wouldn’t want to hijack their family trip (which, of course, I was doing—with full parental approval). By the time we left for Cancun, she had convinced herself it wasn’t happening.

Then came the big moment. I told her we had to wake up at 5 AM for a couple’s photoshoot—odd, but not too odd. That morning, she started to get suspicious, even filming herself joking that maybe she was getting engaged. But even then, she wasn’t sure.

And that’s what made it perfect.

Just as the sun rose over the ocean, I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me.

And she said yes.

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