He did the initial online outreach - remarking upon her screenname of "DoubleCrimson". Many messages and texts later, she was fed up and insisted on a real date. She was new to the online world and did not understand the importance of laying a foundation. Trudging through snowbanks of a mostly shut-down Cambridge, they met up for dinner at The Russell House Tavern. Dinner was full of jitters and felt quite forced to start, but they both believed that their cyber-chemistry signified that something was there. Thank goodness for that foundation. They powered through the meal and managed their disappointments - hers at his aged photos (disclaimer was sent 5 minutes before the date started!), his at her concealed southern accent - and continued on to PARK for drinks. With the encouragement of a wingman bartender and a few stiff cocktails, a lifetime of laughs and love was finally underway. P.S. Somewhat inexplicably (and rather inconsiderately), this date happened in spite of the fact that he was hosting his college roommate, Benjamin Kennet, who was visiting that night from New York. Thank you, sir, for your service.

They had already spoken of their interest in getting married and she was, ahem, outspoken regarding the timeline during which an engagement must occur. What she did not know was that he had long had a date in mind, and as he had cryptically communicated to her father, Brad, a few months prior to the pre-selected day, “things [were] in motion.” Fast-forwarding to March 2020, he purchased the ring in Alabama as soon as she returned to New York to wrap up the final weeks of her job. The jeweler had to order some parts for the ring, however, and astute readers may recall the many supply chain chokepoints that were forming right at this time. After a spate of drama, Andrew was the final person to pick up a ring before what turned out to be a very extended lockdown. Even with the ring in hand (more accurately in closet, in boot), he had the jeweler leave him a voicemail stating that the ring would not be ready in time after all. Armed with crocodile tears, he played the voicemail for her and explained that a proper engagement would have to wait for some time. On April 1st, he waited for them to go on a joint, work-from-home-enabled dog walk. Upon their return, he ensured that he beat her to the door. He pulled a key-shaped pendant from his pocket and complained that it would not unlock the door. It was a dad-tier April Fool’s joke that was easy to play off as a two weeks-delayed third-anniversary gift. As she untangled the pendant chain in the kitchen (an unplanned, but ultimately very helpful step), he dropped to one knee behind her. He asked if she wanted to continue a life of laughing and loving together, or if he was mistaken and the biggest April Fool of them all. Her vortex of confusion, surprise, and April 1st-driven doubt briefly left her unable to process what had just transpired. After some bumbling, a “yes” was eventually secured. At this point, he returned to the key pendant and turned it over, revealing an inscription: “Mrs.”