Our first kiss. September 23, 2001. Los Angeles, California. We had known each other for almost four months. Ryan had just moved back to USC for his sophomore year of college after a summer break in Portland, spent chatting together for hours every night over aol instant messenger. We had been on several casual dates since his return, and the only physical contact was a friendly hug at the end of each evening. But this night was different. Little did we know, as we sat nervously on the couch in Adam’s tiny Los Feliz apartment watching the Ken Burn’s Jazz documentary, that this night would be the beginning of a relationship that would eventually turn into a lifelong marriage. Neither of us ever had a boyfriend before, so this was all new territory and somewhat daunting. Ryan was feeling brave, and before getting together at the apartment that night he proposed a big question over the archaic dial-up internet connection, “What’s the deal with us?” And for good reason: we had been on a handful of dates, and didn’t go a day without speaking on the phone, sometimes for hours on end, but there was still no sign of a kiss. Well, cupid must have had perfect aim that warm Sunday evening, or perhaps there was some particularly romantic jazz music playing in the film, but whatever it was, we found ourselves moving closer and closer on the couch. Miles was wailing on the trumpet and Art Blakey pounded on his drums, while cupid pulled his arrow all the way back, further than he had ever pulled before, and using all his concentration and focus, he let go—never taking his eyes from the arrow as it shot through the air, pierced both of our hearts, and our lips touched for the very first time. Five years after that fateful night, we were married in front of 150 of our closest friends and family, and we have never looked back.
