While the exact details of our first meeting remain a mystery, we know it happened in 2017. And we know I had a great voice even then.

Reconnected through the marvels of modern technology, the banter was so intense that one of Phoebe's messages was flagged as potentially inappropriate content by Hinge.

I met half of Phoebe's family on our fifth date. I was warned in advance.

We took our first trip together to Montreal after dating for two weeks. Well I thought we were dating, but Phoebe told me I had to ask. So I did.

A stretch of summer weekends out east, capped off by roleplaying Rip and Beth. I told her I loved her. She'd known that since June.

After just four months I somehow convinced Phoebe to leave her UES apartment (a block from the park) (that she just finished renovating) (with the PERFECT selfie mirror) to move in with me.

Phoebe wanted the jellycat ring, but I said no. We found the real thing in Vienna from a mensch named Avi.

A park-day surprise meant no photographer, but a lovely pair of west side highway bystanders caught Phoebe's first words to me after saying yes — "you're such a jerk."