If anyone knows us as individuals, they know that the majority of our stories involve bowling somehow. That's what we know, that's who we are. So why would the story of how we met our spouse be any different? We knew of each other all throughout high school bowling, but went to different schools and had different groups of friends. I always knew he was the kid with the high back swing and with the name no one could pronounce correctly. Years later in April of 2012, good ol' Facebook connected us again. He started up a consistent conversation everyday with me and even gave me his number (took me awhile to put it in my phone, and he won't let me live that down). We talked everyday, got to know each other. We bonded over our love for country music and corgi butts and the rest is history.

In March 2017, my family and I were planning a Vegas trip for a few days. The day we were flying out, I took a half day off work and Taylor decided he was just going to take a whole day because he was going to drop us off at the airport. Meanwhile, I didn't think much of it. I had a million things to check off my list! March in Indiana, it's freaking freezing in the morning and then by midday, you go outside and it feels like you're melting. So I get home around 12:30pm, about to pass out because I have too many layers on and need to eat and pack my carryon and check all my other items (you see how my brain works?). I walk inside and there is Taylor with a cute bouquet of chocolate roses saying, "So, I did something." And I'm thinking, "What did this man buy/do to make him schmooze me up with this cute little gesture?" And then he showed me the ring and it took me about 30 seconds to realize that this was happening! I finally make my way over to him, winter coat and all, and he says, "Wanna get married or something?"