By the third bar, fate (or just luck) put me in line right next to Dan. We started talking, and then… we just didn’t stop. At one point, I mentioned my love of margaritas, so naturally, the minute we got inside, Dan made a beeline for the bar and returned with two margaritas—trying to impress me. He then launched into a story about margaritas at his brother’s wedding. I, however, was too busy staring at him to actually hear any of it. To this day, neither of us remembers the story.

Now, at this point, I should have left—it was 6 PM, and my “quick brunch” had turned into the world’s longest day-drink. But against all odds, I still made it to Mayra’s for meal prep. Except instead of helping to chop vegetables, I spent the whole time talking about Dan.

Eventually, I worked up the nerve to friend him on Facebook—only to discover he had already sent me a request and sneakily put his number in my phone. Standing in Mayra’s kitchen on Oakes Street, I made a dramatic declaration: “Should I ask him out? I think I’m going to ask him out.”

So I did. And Dan, ever the traditionalist, replied, “Aren’t I supposed to ask you?”

We planned a date for that Saturday at a tavern in Davis Square. Beforehand, I asked Amanda for the scoop: Was he a good guy? Was this a terrible idea? She reassured me, “I wouldn’t let you go out with him if he wasn’t.”

That Saturday at 7 PM, Dan and I met up. And no one heard from us until after 4 AM.

From that point on, it was game over. We spent every day together that we could, and whenever we were out, our phones were down for hours—because when you find someone who makes time disappear, you don’t waste a second of it.

***

Wedding Day