Well, my side of the story starts with me going out on a date with someone other than Paul. Actually, going out on a lot of dates with a lot of not-Pauls. And getting very, very, very tired of all of the not-Pauls of the world. After one particularly bad date,  I rehashed each detail with my recruiter friends at work the next morning as they laughed at my pain. Heatedly, I told them I was done with dating. If they'd like to ever see me get married then they would need to "recruit me a husband." And so they did. 

An hour later, I had two photos of eligible suitors to choose from, thanks to co-worker Ken. The first was of a good looking guy, tall, down-to-earth-y looking...with very large muscles. "Meat head" I said. "Next." (OK, you can't judge me for such a quick reaction. All I had to go off was a picture! I'm really not good at that game.) "No, no, no...he's not a meat head. He's super sweet. Really smart. Successful. You'll really like him," co-worker Ken promised. Hmm. OK, I like nice. And I hadn't met smart in a long time! But in true Amy form, I needed to analyze all options before making decisions. Next suitor please...

Co-worker Ken then presented a photo of a guy with a goofy grin. "That's not what he looks like," co-worker Ken says. (btw, I now know that's exactly what he looks like.) Luckily this suitor had multiple photos to scroll through. Photo #2 - wtf!? He's huge as well. Does co-worker Ken meet all of his friends at the gym? Photo #3 - goofy grin man wearing a Red Sox hat?! He's a Boston fan?!!!

"Him! I'd like to meet him, please." The rest is history. And we have the Red Sox to thank. 

I did not find out until later that suitor #1 is now whom I lovingly refer to as "DJ Uncle Matt". Aka, Paul's best friend. (And a Yankees fan. Clearly that wouldn't have worked....)

It was October 2015, and I wanted no part in dating. You know what I wanted part in? Making money. So when I received a voice message from a friend asking me to call him back because he had a "proposition" for me, I was pumped. I had been bugging him to connect me with the head of operations at his company for a good year or so and I finally thought "This is it!" I puffed out my chest a bit, thinking of all the things I was going to do with the fat commission check I'd get from this big of a deal, and enthusiastically called him back. 

Ken: "Hey man! So, there's this girl I work with...." 

Seriously? A girl? He's calling me about a girl? That sounds more like spending money, not making it...

Ken: "So yeah, she's pretty cool. Fun, well educated, successful. She's looking to be set up. Wanna take her out?"

Did I want to take her out? Eh. Not really. Let's be honest, she probably sucks. I mean, she's in her 30s and still single. Clearly there's a reason for that. I ask what's wrong with her and I'm told nothing. Yeah right. Then I look her up on Facebook. Yeah, she's pretty cute. Apparently she's traveled to every place on the planet. Lots of pictures of her and her family. She seems pretty normal. So at this point you're wondering if I'm now more excited about this "proposition", right? Nope. I believe my exact thoughts were: Clearly she's a b*tch. But Ken seems excited so I reluctantly agree to be set up.

A few days later I get a text from a number I don't know. It's the girl (oh, her name's Amy) and she's asking me out. (Yes, she asked me out. We're a modern couple.) I tell her we should go watch the Patriots game at a bar on Monday night...say around 9ish? This was the perfect plan - I could still go to the gym, and even if she sucked I'd still get to watch the game. And she's from Boston so clearly she'll think I put thought into this. Brilliant!

Amy: "Maybe we can meet a bit earlier? I turn into a pumpkin around 9pm"

Clearly she sucks. Who goes to bed at 9pm? (Flash forward to present day....I do.) We settle on an earlier time and I agree to pick her up. Later that weekend, I'm running with my friend Maryal and tell her about my blind date and my brilliant date plan. 

Mar: "You're not bringing her to a dirty bar to watch sports"

Me: "That's exactly what I'm doing"

Mar: "No, you're not"

An hour after we finished our run, Mar calls me. 

Mar: "You have a reservation at North at 7:30pm. Chris will be your server. If she orders a drink, you order a beer"

Me: "I don't drink"

Mar: "If she orders a drink, you order a beer"

Me: This is why I don't date. 

So the big night arrives, and I knock on Amy's door - actually slightly nervous because I'm half expecting her to have a peg leg or a large hairy mole on her upper back. But no, she seems sweet actually. She has all appendages. And we, well, just hit it off. 

She does order wine (and I do order a beer) and after a 2 hour dinner, we go back to her place and we talk forever. She bakes me cookies (they were amazing) and she tells me she makes a mean lasagne. 

Amy: "I'd make it for you, but you'd fall in love with me"

Famous last words. A few months later she eventually made me lasagne, but didn't need to. I was in love by our second date. And the rest is history. 

People often want to know how Paul proposed. The real question is, which time? He asked Amy to marry him at least 25 times leading up to our actual engagement. We'd be driving down the road and he'd randomly ask, "hey, you wanna marry me?" Amy's response was always something along the lines of, "Ask me the right way and maybe I'll say yes." 

To understand the proposal, we'll need to bring you back to the first month we were dating. Amy loves to dance. Paul does not. And Amy used to try to get him to dance with her anyway. In the kitchen. In Target. It didn't really matter where, she'd just start doing twirls around him and he'd stand there like the cool kid that he is. Then, one night after a date, Paul was driving Amy home and randomly pulled off the road into a deserted Sprouts parking lot. The George Strait song "I Wanna Dance With You" was playing and Paul turned it up, rolled down the windows, and pulled Amy out of the car for a dance. 

Flash forward nearly two years later, on April 21, 2017 we decided to have dinner at North, the Italian restaurant where we had our first date. We had a gift card (Paul loves a good deal) so that was not out of the ordinary. But after dinner, instead of heading west towards home, Paul turned towards Scottsdale and drove back to that Sprouts parking lot. He put the same George Strait song on the radio, turned up the music, and we danced. When the song was over, he got down on one knee and asked Amy to marry him. And this time she said yes.