Serial Killers & sippy cups
Our First Date
It started on Tinder. Maddi saw my dorky memes and must have found me charming (~and harmless~) enough to invite me over. Our first date was a mess of butterflies and laughter. She let me in through a fire escape window on the third story of her building. We hit a rhythm immediately. We just clicked. ~ Mitchell failed my serial killer interrogation. Every word out of his mouth seemed perfectly tailored to everything I had ever wanted. He was sweet, funny, smart, curious, handsome, I could go on. The connection was unbelievable. He was too perfect, I was definitely going to get murdered. ~ We had been talking for hours, and things were going so well. She peppered our conversation with intense interrogation-style questions followed by long strings of jokes, which I later found out were to ease her nerves that I was going to "Ted Bundy" her. I had no idea, I thought her random bursts of intensity were a cute quirk. I was taking a sip of water when she caught me off guard. I laughed so hard that I SPRAYED her with an entire mouthful of water. I tried to wipe away the water, but in my nervousness, forgot the cup was in my hand. I splashed most of the rest of the cup onto her in the process. I was mortified. ~ I was relieved. His face was red and he looked so nervous, but now I could relax. I could finally enjoy that my forever person was sitting right in front of me. As he took another sip of water I said, "at least now you can't murder me because the police will find your DNA all over me." ~ I lost it. The "it" being my ability to swallow. I couldn't stop laughing, until I started choking instead. Trying to regain my composure, I frantically set my half empty cup on the ground and stood up to grab paper towels. In the process, I knocked the cup over, spilling the little water that remained onto the floor. ~ He didn't even fully catch his breath before we burst into uncontrollable giggles. ~ I took it in stride, I was relieved to hear her laughter mixing with mine. ~ I bought him a sippy cup for his birthday ~
Habaneros, Pumpkins, and BURNING CHRISTMAS TREES
The Battle of Wits
When you meet your perfect match, you begin sharing your passions with each other. Sometimes those passions overlap and you get to spend each day doing the things you love with the person you love. However, no one ever warns you that your perfect match may just be better at your favorite activities than you are. Education, food, and art quickly became our battlegrounds. Our first fight took place after sharing some fun facts about the reduced speed limit signs you see before going around a bend. We quickly launched into full blown research projects and battled about the physics preventing a car from slipping off the ground. We were knee deep in relativity and theory when I solved it. To Mitchell's dismay, he had been out-scienced. I love spicy foods. Maddi showed me this blended pepper sauce she used regularly when cooking, eating it without batting an eye. One bite and several glasses of water later, my eyes and nose stopped running enough for me to see the pure joy radiating from her face. Mitchell countered with his favorite salsa from a restaurant he and his dad love to go to in Columbus. I watched him take a bite and listened as he explained that the secret of this salsa was that it had only three-ingredients. I took a bite. The three ingredients? Vinegar, raw habaneros, and raw onions. I wish I had a picture of his smile. I had no choice but to accept defeat; the salsa was so spicy that I lost my voice. The Holiday Art Wars began when Maddi carved a gorgeous, shaded mosaic of mushrooms in the moonlight. In response, Mitchell hollowed his pumpkin and created a 3D optical-illusion silhouette of a forest surrounding a howling wolf. We called it a draw, until Christmas that is. It started out innocent enough. We were painting at Mitchell's parents' house during Christmas break. It was all fun and games until Steve walked in, wagering that Mitchell could make a better painting than me. My pride was on the line. The rules were simple, paint a burning Christmas tree. Maddi painted a perfect burning tree. The presents were smouldering, the fire had a cartoon pop, the proportions and shading were perfect. Simple, but perfect. Mitchell painted a mess of colors, shapes, and blobs, including the wonkiest Christmas tree I have ever seen. The border was huge, green, and had random dark lines running through it. The tree, smoke, and fire were warped, streaky, and the white of the canvas was showing through everywhere in between. On first glance, you'd think that a child might have painted it on the tray of its highchair after dinner. I was kind, and ready to graciously accept my victory. That is until Mitchell moved the painting back and explained that it was actually a Christmas tree burning in the reflection of the Grinch's eye. And that it was. While we don't compete anymore, our "battles" taught us to let go of our pride and showed us how to grow together. These stories (and the many more that accompany them) form the foundation for so much of the happiness and growth we have shared together over the years.
A Haircut & Our World Together
Breaking the Illusion
Expanding Our World. Before we met, both of us carried around invisible assumptions about the world. Some things felt understandable and approachable. Other things felt distant—meant for different people. The clothes we wore kept us warm, the cars we drove got us where we needed to go, medicines fixed headaches, artists created beautiful things, and skilled professionals cut hair. We interacted with the results without thinking much about the process behind them. Those worlds seemed complicated, specialized, and just a little bit out of reach. Then one day Maddi handed me a pair of shears and asked me to cut her hair. I thought she was joking. Surely haircuts were the kind of thing you left to trained professionals. There were entire businesses built around not letting people like me attempt them. I was convinced I would ruin it. Somehow, she trusted me anyway. The haircut turned out fine, she looked beautiful, and something unexpected happened: a wall in my mind cracked. It wasn't really about hair. It was the realization that many of the things we place on pedestals aren't magical or inaccessible. They're collections of smaller skills, smaller decisions, and smaller lessons that ordinary people learn one step at a time. Once you're willing to be bad at something for a little while, entire worlds begin to open up. Maddi taught me that creativity isn't some mysterious gift bestowed on a lucky few. Art, design, sewing, knitting, cooking, and countless other crafts are ways of seeing and engaging with the world. They aren't just hobbies; they're invitations to participate instead of simply consume. At the same time, I introduced Maddi to the worlds that fascinated me. Science, engineering, computers, and the endless habit of asking why? behind everything. Many of those subjects can look intimidating from the outside, as though they're reserved for experts with extraordinary talent. But underneath the jargon and complexity are understandable pieces, waiting for anyone curious enough to pull them apart. Together, we learned that growth rarely comes from staying inside the boundaries we inherited. Why learn how clothes are made? Why understand how a car works? Why travel to a country whose language you don't speak? Why try a new skill when there's someone more qualified who can do it better? Because every time you step beyond the edge of what feels familiar, the world becomes larger. Understanding how something is made helps you appreciate the people behind it. Traveling somewhere different teaches you that there are countless ways to live a meaningful life. Learning a new skill reminds you that expertise is built, not bestowed. Curiosity turns strangers into neighbors, mysteries into knowledge, and intimidating challenges into achievable steps. Over the years, our biggest gift to each other has been permission to explore. Maddi helped me see the beauty, emotion, and humanity behind things I once overlooked. I helped her see the systems, logic, and discoverable patterns hidden beneath things that once seemed impossibly complex. Neither perspective is complete on its own. Her emotional intelligence sharpened my understanding of people. My analytical mindset strengthened her confidence in tackling difficult problems. Her creativity expanded my imagination. My curiosity encouraged her to ask deeper questions. Again and again, we found that our differences weren't obstacles to overcome—they were tools that made both of us better. Somewhere along the way, two very different ways of seeing the world stopped competing and started working together. The result is a life that feels bigger, richer, and more meaningful than either of us could have built alone.