“What should the punishment be for people who Facetime in public without headphones?” Esther had given up on finding love, but her friends had other plans. “Men are trash; I’ve had enough,” she sighed, tossing her phone to a nearby friend, both a little tipsy from a night of celebration. They were out at a birthday party for her teammate on The Riveters, her improv troupe that has been together for nearly ten years, composed entirely of women and mostly of Jesses. They opened her Bumble app and, as Esther resigned her fate, started swiping on her behalf. One more night, she thought to herself with a glimmer of hope, then she’d delete it. But then, there was Josh, smiling out from the phone. He looked cute enough to warrant a message, even if it was by proxy. Josh chose to overlook the strange opening question (that Esther maintains was clever): “What should the punishment be for people who Facetime in public without headphones?” Giving her the benefit of the doubt, he dodged. “I’m a Samsung guy, so I wouldn’t know.” Esther checked her app and decided to take a chance on love. We met up for cocktails in a fancy bar with a leather wall and Josh was an hour early, for the first—and probably last—time in his life. How typical: he had already befriended the bartender and convinced her to whip egg whites into fig-infused drinks where they didn’t belong. Figs, cocktails, and charm. She should have seen the whole thing coming. Esther confessed that it was her friends that had matched with him but assured him it had been and would always be—her genuine self from now on. As Josh started falling in love, so began several months of Esther investigating and making sure that Josh was not trying to wear her as a skin suit. She met his friend Ken and determined that he was, in fact, a friend and not an actor paid to take part in the ruse. (Did we mention she has the mind of a criminal lawyer?) Slowly but surely, he earned her trust, and she let down her guard and fell hard.
“What are you gonna make him, tuna salad?” Leanne feared for her daughter’s future. How was Esther going to impress Josh, a trained cook and potter, when she had him over for dinner just a few dates in? A date night at a restaurant was one thing; they could wine and dine each other out on the town. But what would happen when he laid eyes on the contents of her kitchen—soup bowls from Costco, cases of canned green beans (for the dogs), and loads of cans of tuna? “No, mom, don’t be ridiculous.” Besides, there’s always the weeknight go-to: a bowl of mac and cheese…complemented by a dash of frozen peas. Esther is a highly accomplished attorney and all-around badass, which doesn’t always leave time for meal prep when a trial is on. And Costco is magical, right? Josh, too, once owned a Kirkland branded mini-fridge, collared shirt, and roasted chicken all at once. What couple needs two cooks in it, anyway? She went with an omelet in the end. As any foodie knows (but did Esther, really?), ‘make me an omelet’ is the first thing most chefs will demand of a new cook on the job—the famed Jiro’s sushi apprentice once cried out loud the first time he finally got it right. If dates are interviews for love, then Esther’s omelet scored her a job for life. Even if Josh runs the kitchen on most nights, he is thrilled with his capable and loving sous chef, and we make a great team whenever we entertain, which we love to do together. Josh, by the way, prefers his boxed mac and cheese with a side of grilled spam.
“We’re gonna need a smaller boat.” Why would a country that knows so much about water infrastructure make all their bridges five feet tall when so many of their boats stand at six feet? As our canal cruise waited for a path to clear, how to escape was the farthest thing from our minds. Besides, we had already hopped on a plane to the other side of the world after knowing each other for just a few short months. “Are you sure you want to go with me?” Esther asked again and again before our trip. “It’s not too late to back out.” Josh knew he wouldn’t trade the chance to spend a whole week abroad with her for all the pannenkoeken, horse steaks, and frites in Holland. As it turns out, we had both lived there in Leiden at nearly the same time years before, just blocks away but not yet aware of how nearby the loves of our lives already were. “I remember crashing my bike into that bar back in 2010,” Esther insisted, “and the bar is definitely backwards.” It was. “I remember the slogan on my favorite herring cart like it was yesterday,” Josh recalled. “Caught with love, eaten with relish.” Little did we know how much wisdom was hidden amongst the makreel—now that we had caught each other, we could begin to relish our loving future, traveling the world together. Esther knew she had fallen in love with Josh when chaos ensued at Schipol airport on the way home. The line for security was about four hours long and it seemed like we would miss our flight. As Esther spiraled into panic, Josh stayed calm and made her laugh. She knew that he was her perfect match. From that moment on, we knew we could share a part of life that we both loved—to travel the world—and to always do it as a team.
“OMGM!” “So, let me get this straight. I just press a button on my phone, the app spins for me, and we get free buffets?” As a seasoned Vegas veteran, Esther was shocked. Sure, she knew her way around a 100-hand penny poker machine. Of course, she had club promoters’ phone numbers on speed dial. Obviously, she knew to always split aces and eights at the blackjack table. But all the prime rib we could eat in exchange for just a few clicks?! This was a revelation. Esther was shocked that Josh had never been and yet was able to unlock this secret side to Sin City, an old stomping ground of hers since childhood. So began a life of spinning. If you catch Esther staring down at her phone, it’s probably for a good cause. We were indeed a team. The two of us set off on what came to be the first of many trips to Vegas in December of 2022, to celebrate Esther’s birthday. We dressed to the nines, drank champagne beside the Bellagio fountains, and tried our hand at the tables. Why bother gambling if you can’t do it in a suit? We were dazzled by an epic (and vaguely whitewashed?) tale on a tilt-table stage performed by Cirque du Soleil. Why bother watching trapeze if you can’t do it with French Canadians? We paid real money to attend a pickleball tournament, perhaps as the only spectators there. Why try out a new ‘sport’ if you can’t get tipsy beforehand and take it too seriously? We made the terrible mistake of booking with a discount airline. Why take a puddle jumper if you can’t waddle onto the plane like marshmallow men wearing four layers of clothes and coats each? Vegas has become our happy place (as long as we don’t fly Frontier), especially when we eat our weight at a buffet of prime rib.
“Ggggrrrrrrr…” The Potato Bear was furious. How dare this fluffy Food Bear invade her territory and challenge her dominance? By ‘challenge her dominance,’ we of course mean sit quietly and flop, but she refused to see it that way. There was no treat in the world powerful enough to keep her from lunging off the couch and chasing him across the room in a desperate attempt, apparently, to nibble at his ankles. (Cheese, on the other hand, was blind, oblivious, and a perfect angel.) If Esther and Josh were ready to move in and start a home together, these bears would need to put their differences aside for the greater good. Way back on our first date, Esther had told Josh that she was allergic to cats. He gently explained his near-irrational love for his cat Bodhi (a.k.a. The Food Bear) and asked if that was a dealbreaker. Esther replied flippantly, “There are worse things.” Among those worse things, it seems, is Gertrude Bane (a.k.a. The Potato Bear), her twelve pound chihuahua-dachshund with four remaining teeth, who has terrorized Bodhi, three times her size by volume, since first they met. Captain (a.k.a. Cheese), Esther’s blind chihuahua-terrier mix, is happy just to be involved. As Esther and Josh embarked on this next step in our relationship, moved in together, and began to blend our lives, something had to give—we held out hope for a détente between bears. Hope springs eternal. While Esther’s cat allergy has vastly improved, we had to settle for an armistice and a temporary demilitarized zone: the stairs, where The Food Bear peers down to the living room from behind beyond a one-foot fence, impassable for stumpy little dog legs. Now we share a loving home—here’s hoping they feel the love soon too.
“Look at this beautiful vista!” By January of 2023, Esther was ready to spend the rest of her life with Josh. It was time to propose. She also thought there was a good chance that she would beat him to the punch, so she made a savvy deal: no matter who pops the question first, both of us must go through with our proposal plans. (Yes, Josh had started cooking up plans too.) We were that damn in love. Esther contacted one of Josh’s favorite artists to commission a tie tack with a miniature plate of oysters, among his very favorite foods. Engraved on the plate: “Will you marry me?” Her plot was in motion. She lured Josh to his favorite Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum under the guise of a faux behind-the-scenes tour of Cat Canyon, and he was completely fooled. Five minutes before she popped the question, he was snapping shots of the javelinas and awaiting his appointment with the ocelot, entirely oblivious to what was really coming. Instead, she had photographers hidden in the bushes, waiting to sneak in and capture our special moment. As their lenses came into view, Esther was desperate for a distraction—anything not to ruin the surprise. “Look at this beautiful vista!” she shouted, for the first and likely last time in her life. She handed him the tie tack, and as he examined it, she pulled out the ring. She was so nervous that she didn’t even realize she was holding the ring box upside down. Josh said yes! We headed to what Esther had told our families was a birthday dinner for Josh, but it was really a celebration of the proposal. After all the twists and turns of the day, Josh was thoroughly caught in Esther’s well-intentioned web of lies. Yet one more surprise remained for the next morning, an invitation for bougie eggs and potatoes. Josh was flummoxed. “I’m in love, but is brunch real?”
“Hey Flerff! They have a Nobu here!” But the deal stood, and Josh was not to be outdone in his expressions of love. So he stole a dress out of Esther's closet and left her an envelope. Isn’t that how all successful marriage proposals start? Inside (the envelope, not the dress) was the first of a dozen clues that would take Esther on a ten-hour scavenger hunt across all their favorite spots in Vegas, with another envelope hidden at each stop. If she wanted to be loved forever, she had to earn it. Clues included such literary gems as “the drinks are smokey; the door is donkey” and “what has feet that don’t match its body, looks good in a lamp, and is out on sick leave?” (Can you guess where they lead?) After a boozy tea party, a trek through a flamingo preserve, a trip to one of Vegas’ oldest bingo halls, a shoulder-high kick with a neon cowgirl, and no fewer than four fake ‘gotcha’ proposals (the whole restaurant cheered and poured us free champagne at the second to last), the stolen dress finally came into play. There it was, laid out on the bed in their surprise room at the Nobu Hotel alongside the final clue: “When it was a gingerbread house, we fell in love. When it was a giant bunny, we were about to move in together. Now, it’s a heart, and that’s where we’ll start the rest of our lives together. (And you may want to put on that dress).” There, in the Bellagio Conservatory Garden, in front of the giant heart of roses, Josh finally got down on one knee (for real this time) and popped the question. Esther said yes! Now that we are engaged to be married—not once but twice—the rest of our story is about to begin. We can’t wait to celebrate with all of you and share our love as we embark on the next chapter. To be continued…with you in March! #marrytheflerff