We moved to Washington, DC in 2016; two strangers with suitcases arriving on the very same day. He by train, me by plane. Our paths wouldnât officially cross until eight months later, but after comparing notes, we figured out that we were in the same rooms, repeatedly, without even knowing it. We went to the same concerts in the Luce Gallery, frequented the microcinema in Mount Pleasant, browsed the racks at the same record stores, and fell in love with the same Nam June Paik installation at the American Art Museum.Â
We matched on Tinder, as with many millennials on the apps. In April of 2017, we went on a first date in the park by my house. Drinking Stiegel Radlers, complaining about work, and the general weird vibes of living in DC during that specific political climate. We parted ways, claiming weâd keep in touch, and proceeded to ghost one another.
Fast forward to the fall of the same year. Weâre back on the apps and weâve matched againâ7 months later. We decided to grab coffee in Georgetown, welcoming a chance to reconnect. And then coffee turned into a walk. The walk extends into an hourslong affair in hopes of catching the full moon rising. We went to the White House, peed in a hotel bathroom, and finally found ourselves in front of the Weather Underground house in Adams Morgan, six or seven hours later. We split up content that weâd hang out again soon.
Little did we know that that long walk would turn into a never-ending story, or better yet, a story with a happy ending. We saw each other a few days later, discovering our mutual love of physical media. I even brought a tape recorder with me to record snatches of conversation. What are the odds that the girl with the massive VHS collection would meet the boy with the massive cassette collection, who hosted a monthly cassette night at a local bar?  After five months, we decided to cut our commutes, merge our collections, and move in together sooner than most would advise.Â
From our home, we weathered the historic government shutdown, a global pandemic, and countless protestsâfinding comfort and safety in a world of our making. We moved to Chicago, I started and left a PhD, we both found new jobs, we bought our apartment, started a gallery in our living room, and our family grew to include our dog, Momo.Â
If thereâs one thing our relationship has taught us, itâs that itâs okay to perpetually be in a state of becoming. Whether thatâs giving one another a second chance at a first date, exploring different career paths, trying and failing at new recipes and hobbiesâwithin the solid foundation of our communion, we can be whoever we want to be, and whoever we might become. So hereâs to second chances and the longest second first date in the world.
