BreAnna and Jeffery


How We Met

Bre and I met through a mutual friend at a house gathering. She had no idea who I was and wasn’t interested in finding out. She was, more or less, friendly, but made no gesture towards wanting to know me further. And while I found her very attractive, I also didn’t make an attempt at knowing her further. I left that evening thinking “that was an attractive girl.” I’m pretty sure she left that evening thinking “the onion dip was excellent.”

After meeting a second time, I had decided that I would say something, but when the opportunity presented itself, I was proverbially “blocked” by another one of our mutual friends. Here’s where it gets weird (though, maybe not in 2016). I ended up seeing her in the photo of a mutual friend on Facebook. I sent her a “Friend Request” and she ignored it completely. Fortunately, my online stalking game is on point and I found her Instagram account which was under her actual name. This made it easier to make a second (and likely final)  attempt at penetrating her wall air tight social fortress and getting Bre to know me. She had an open Instagram account, so I “liked” three of her photos. She “liked” three of my photos, accepted my Facebook request, and later confirmed how we’d met. From there, I was able to win her over with my charisma (*Read she she found my lack of charisma adorable). We conversed on Facebook for several hours, before I asked for her number, at which point we texted (and eventually talked on the phone). The rest is history. Happy that I’ll be making her my bride about a year from today!


how they asked

Bre planned a trip to Spain with several of her friends. Knowing that I wanted to propose, but not knowing how to surprise her, I knew that showing up, unannounced, in Barcelona, Spain was my chance. I bought a plane ticket (3 weeks out), hired a photographer in Barcelona, bought her a dress to wear (with the help of an inside mole, who coordinated getting her to wear it to a “nice dinner”), and solidified the location of the proposal.


Her squad had a photo taken by a random “tourist” (who I hired). Meanwhile, I strolled up with a photo bomb, ring-in-pocket, and a mission on my mind.




Among my first words were, “In the words of the great Marshawn Lynch, you know why I’m here.” Among her last words was, simply, “Yes.”




Special Thanks

Orlando of Flytographer