Januarary 13th 2018 my sister and I had a friend over and the topic of Bonnaroo came up and we were debating whether or not to go. As we sat around the dining room table, drinking beers and justifying going to Bonnaroo, in the background, I (Carlye), am swiping through Bumble. I matched with this dude named John. To be honest, I don’t remember swiping right on this guy, he wore only sunglasses and hats in all of his pictures and his profile is bland, but, I messaged him. I had nothing to lose. I shot him my standard open, “ If you’re stranded on a deserted island and can only bring three things, what would you bring?” You really weed out some weirdos with this one, ladies, I suggest it! but I digress... We sparked up a conversation and he asked me what I was doing on that random Saturday night, so I told him I was planning a trip to Bonnaroo. “What’s that?” He asked. So, I smartassily told him it’s a music festival. He replied with, “I think I know what you’re talking about, but you’re spelling it wrong.” Completely taken off guard I double checked myself... I hadn’t. “No?” I said as I send him a screenshot of the line up. “Ohhhhhh, that’s how you spell it! I thought it was Bawnarew.” John is now negative points in my book, but I keep rolling with it...

Fast forward to the next day, John kept texting me... it’s fine, I played it cool. As we talked, I somehow found out that this so called “John” character is actually named Rob. Somehow, his profile name was wrong? (I still, to this day, don’t know how that’s possible, but ok...?) He proceeded to ask me out to dinner. I wasn’t sold, so I confided in my sister (and maid of honor) she told me it was a free meal I should go, so I did. The date comes and goes, we don’t chat much since we’re both shy. But, at some point, we started a conversation about our plans for the following day, in which, he tells me, he’ll probably go to “The Man Store”. Being a reclaimed feminist, on a high from recently purchasing her own home, that don’t need NO MAN, I scoffed, “what the fuck is The Man’s Store?!” Ladies and gentleman, it’s Home Depot. We said our good byes at the end of the date, and on our way home he cut me off in his giant white diesel truck, that I later find out is called, “The White Knight”. RIP to that thing, wherever it is...

I’m not going to lie, after date numero uno, we were inseparable. As we got to learn more about each other, I realized John, err I mean, Rob, was actually not as old as his profile stated. With my birthday coming up (February 13th and his follows shortly after on March 8th) we got to talking about birthdays. As I told him mine, he mentioned being a year and roughly three weeks younger than me. I thought, man, this dude can’t spell and he can’t do math! I said, “No, just three weeks.” That’s when he dropped another bomb, he was born in ‘91. I’m a cougar.

The truth is, I knew I wanted to marry Rob shortly after we met. I had some friends over and we all went out to celebrate my birthday. As Rob went to get us some pizza (that I later ate very animalistically, drunk, on our Uber ride home - that I’m Still reminded of to this day) I told my friends I was going to marry him one day, and everyone looked at me like I was crazy. Well look at us now, bitches! We’re getting married! * I have since talked to each of my friends that were present on this particular occassion. They all confirmed that they did, indeed, think I was drunk and crazy when I said I was going to marry Rob so quickly after meeting him *

Ladies and gentlemen, let me hit you with some knowledge of what actually happened when we first met: It all started with a bumble message, I was shocked when I looked at pictures of this woman and thought to myself, “Dang, she’s out of my league, for sure!”. We talked about random things and then the music festival conversations comes up and let me tell you, Bonnaroo is actually spelled: B-A-W-N-A-R-E-W; all you have to do is sound it out... Now for the first date: Actually, all above statements are true. The White Knight damn near drove himself right into her Wrangler after our first date (note: it wasnt the alcohol). Welp, I reckon she told rather accurate information on everything. Except I knew I wanted to be with Carlye forever when she gave me a “cake” of PBR, white mon-stars and a bottle of Kamchatka Vodka for Valentine’s Day. I guess, when you know, you know. Additional accurate information: she is a year and three weeks older than me. Therefore, yes, she is a cougar. This cougar also calls me an “animal” twice a day, everyday because of the way I eat. And, let me tell you, while my mouth is full of American Fuel I laugh at the statement. She then gives me her infamous eye roll which I try to mimic and I just can’t top it. Thanks, everyone, for reading our great love story, I’ll make a rap about it in a few years. (Joking......sort of)