We met in Chapel Hill, in 2015, at the greatest school on the face of the earth (and our shared alma mater), the University of North Carolina. 

A new era of online dating had just begun. And a certain smartphone app (Tinder), had recently seen a period of explosive growth. Back then, online dating was new, exciting, and nerve-wracking for crazy college kids like us. We weren’t all enthusiastic early adopters and many were hesitant to signal either an unhealthy level of promiscuity or, worse, failure at dating the traditional way. 

But equal to that uneasiness was a casual sort of curiosity. There was a temptation to find out who might be out there, waiting for us outside our established reach in the “real world.” We (Sami and Graham) had no mutual friends and ran in entirely different social circles. In the words of the great Avril Lavigne, “He was a punk. She did ballet. What more can I say?” (well actually, he was a libertarian frat bro and she was a bleeding heart liberal with a fancy bourbon collection, but that’s beside the point). So it was against all odds that we became aware of each other’s existence, miraculously aided by such technologies as the microchip, satellite, and touch screen user interface.

Two right swipes (which didn’t make a left, thankfully), and then a match. Our spark had ignited. But what of love?

With a relationship as rock solid as ours, I’m sure you can imagine our opening conversation in all of its dialogic brilliance and subtle romantic tension.

“Hey, where’d you ride that bitchin’ camel?,” Sami fired off.

“In Uganda,” Graham replied.

Now, Sami maintains that she has not ever used the word “bitchin’” outside of this interaction, before or since. However, she also still maintains that—when one is presented with a camel that is truly bitchin’—there is no other appropriate term. 

Of course, Graham was just as powerless against this electric opener as Sami was against that bitchin’ camel. Late night conversations turned into a first date, which bred more late night conversations. And by the third date, we were side by side, sealing up little pouches of homemade tortellini and blowtorching meyer lemon crème brûlée. 

It didn’t take long for us crazy kids to realize that we were in some kind of trouble. Graham found himself in a state of rapture at Sami’s endless creativity (he always says she is the most original thinker he knows). He took notice of her keen ability to learn everything about a new topic in a matter of days, her genuine empathy for others, and her bullheaded commitment to bettering herself. Sami, too, found herself drawn to Graham’s relentless work ethic, his fierce loyalty to his friends, his chiseled jawline, and, most importantly, his ever curious pursuit of a truth outside ego.

Perhaps that’s why we, on a drive back to Chapel Hill from Charleston some months later, became so absorbed in conversation that we drove an hour and a half past the exit we were supposed to get off at. And perhaps it’s also why, a year later, Sami—a notorious germaphobe—with no hesitation, dove head first into a pile of trash to search for a letter Graham said he’d sent that she’d never received (he’d actually sent it to the wrong address, but she didn’t know that).

As college ended, our lives ambled briefly apart—but neither of us could ever shake that feeling that this was just it. There was no other person, like it or not. We were pulled back together.

And in the ten years since, we have never lost that chaotic, wonderful, and ridiculous energy that drives us forward. We’ve downed bubble gum flavored mezcal (wouldn’t recommend) in Mexico City, spotted carnivorous plants in North Carolina’s prehistoric Green Swamp Preserve, been chastised for being late to breakfast at an authoritarian B&B in Amish country, stared down wandering goats in Montenegro, commanded (okay, slept in) a historic keep of Scotland’s far north, and gained illicit access to the highest turrets of Quebec City’s Château Frontenac. Overall, we’ve visited countless states and 14 countries together—13 of which were on purpose.

Then, two years ago, we embarked on our grandest adventure yet. After four flights and 30+ hours of flying, we landed in Alta, Norway, amidst a fierce blizzard. Sami didn’t find out the destination until she set foot in the airport (at which point Graham had to tell her so the check in agent didn’t suspect him of human trafficking). Many women would be dismayed at this surprise—being ported to one of the coldest, darkest, and most remote corners of the earth. But Sami wasn’t “many women” and Graham knew what he was doing. 

Unbeknownst to Sami, Graham had an ulterior motive (okay, maybe not entirely unbeknownst as he had been acting quite suspiciously for months). On the second night of the trip, on top of a frigid, blustery mountain, we saw the aurora borealis begin to flicker in the black sky. And as it danced stronger, Graham sank to one knee. He said a whole slew of wonderful things, many of which Sami could not quite hear over the howling wind, but she did not miss him ask her to marry him. Then, after taking a moment to double-check that she was, in fact, not currently in some sort of dream, she remembered to say yes. 

In the happy post-engagement haze of the rest of the trip, we were fortunate enough to receive the aurora’s congratulations a few more times: in bed under a glass dome, on the road as we drove from Finland to Norway, and outside an ice hotel as we drunk straight from a bottle of fiery aquavit. 

And yet behind these cinematic moments, there is another story to be told—a relationship that has grown just as much through the small, seemingly insignificant vicissitudes of life as anything else. We’ve laughed our way through floorboards flooding, the angst of workplace wackadoodles, air conditioning giving up on us in the DC summer, and the ultimate test: navigating healthcare in the United States of America.

We live in Durham, North Carolina, with our two cats, Simba (who thinks he is king of the world) and Zuko (who fiercely guards us when we are sick). Most mornings, we make each other coffee and tea, with steamed milk and grated nutmeg, sipping it as we do the New York Times crossword. We are avid history and strategy game fanatics, having played Civilization VI together for more hours than we care to admit. On weekends, we go for long walks, sometimes in beautiful places.

Enough about ourselves, though. We’re so happy that you, dear reader, have been a part of our lives throughout all of this. None of it ever would have been possible without each of you. We hope that, in the coming years, our marriage will bring new places, new challenges, new trouble to get into—and we hope that you will be there with us.