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.”
