Our Story
Please enjoy a retelling of the start of our relationship, from the perspective of the gromulus (Josh) and the bridella (Emily).
His version
Hi! My name is Josh, and on July 22, 2017, I met Emily Drevets for the first time.
Neither of us remembers this day. We only figured it out later by comparing calendars; that was the first time Emily co-hosted ChiHackNight on the same night that I facilitated the venue.
We met again on October 24, and then again several times over the next few months. It’s hard to say exactly when our story begins, because it was impossible for me to miss how her smile lit up the room and how gosh darn entertaining she was, and that happened on many Tuesdays in early 2018.
On March 20, 2018, I introduced myself to Emily as Braintree’s new coordinator for hosting ChiHackNight. She invited me to a ChiHackNight social event that was going on afterwards at a nearby bar called Monk’s Pub, ostensibly to celebrate my new role.
Sadly, we didn’t sit near each other, and were only able to chat for a few minutes afterwards, and while I wanted to ask her out, I panicked and didn’t.
Thankfully, there was another impromptu Monk’s Pub event the following week, which I also attended, and at that one, Emily and I sat next to each other. She had a white wine, I had a porter, and together, we ignored everyone else.
(Sorry!)
I showed her my numerous notifications, many of which were from online introductory mobile applications, and we commiserated over how miserable online dating was, and how we both would prefer to meet people in person. Followed by a long silence.
A very long silence.
I finally broke it by saying something lame, like “you’re looking at me like I’m about to burst into flames”, rather than what I wanted to say. But later, after we had retrieved Emily’s bike and she had walked me back to where my bike was locked, I finally did ask her out, and she said yes.
In my infinite suave-ness, I asked again, just to make sure.
We rode our bikes together that night. She was going to ride with me the rest of the way to my place, and then she would ride on her own to hers, a ways further north.
But when we got to where I would have turned off to go home, we were enjoying our conversation too much, so I figured I’d ride with her a little farther until our conversation wound down, although I was adamant that I was not following her home.
We ended up parting ways after we got pretty close to where she lived, and then stopped and chatted for another half hour. And in our conversational daze, we almost forgot to exchange numbers.
Our first date was sushi, at Rollapalooza, a location that I chose by drawing a line between where we had parted ways and where I lived, and then picking the spot right in the middle.
I almost biked; Emily did. We met perfectly on time (the last time that we’ve both been on time to something), and enjoyed the Rollapalooza Roll (always get the roll named for the restaurant).
That roll was served with a delicious topping piled high on top of the roll itself, and when I tried to eat it, it promptly toppled over onto the table. Emily didn’t seem to mind when I transferred it from the table to my plate and still ate it; I later learned that she would have done the same.
Our date came to an abrupt end when a waiter put the chair onto the table next to us; we had gotten so lost in conversation that we hadn’t realized the restaurant had closed.
More of our dates ended that way. I had to bolt from our second one because we hung out a full three hours longer than I had planned and I was running late to an event.
As we’ve continued to get to know each other better, keep dating, and get engaged, the two constants have been that when we’re apart we can’t wait to be together, and when we’re together we don’t want it to end.
Well, starting on October 30, it won’t have to!
Her version
It was a 2017 summer’s eve at ChiHackNight, a weekly civic tech event that I had gotten quite involved in earlier that year. The event was held in the offices of Braintree, a payment processing company that used to be really cool but now it’s a PayPal subsidiary. Sigh.
At the time, I was working from home in a one-bedroom apartment in Edgewater, a 45-minute bike ride from downtown where ChiHackNight was held. This event had become so much to me: it was a vital social connection, the source of fascinating knowledge about my city and my world, and a font of inspiration and optimism during a time in the US that felt rather, well, not optimistic.
I also hoped that maybe, one day, I might meet someone nice there. And that we might kiss.
There I was, sitting in the board room of Braintree’s swanky tech offices, way up high in Merchandise Mart during a ChiHackNight council meeting, feeling much better paid than I actually was, when he popped his head into the room and said those magic words, “You need to leave in 15 minutes.” And I said, “Thank you, Braintree.”
Fast forward to March of 2018.
A certain handsome software engineer had started to lurk more frequently around ChiHackNight. He was one of the Braintree hosts who helped facilitate the event.
One evening, after I had finished telling a crowd of people to “Go forth and hack!” (part of the ritual of emceeing ChiHackNight), he came up to me and said, “You should do that all the time,” (that = emcee ChiHackNight) and I said, “I do!” and laughed, because I did. And because I thought he was cute.
A few weeks later, I organized a trip to a nearby bar called Monk’s Pub for a post-CHN social event and invited along this strange fellow, who I’d learned was named Josh.
That night, as he was rushing around the office getting his things, I waited for him to head to the bar and when we finally said goodbye to the security guard and headed to the elevators together he looked right at me and said, “Thank you for waiting for me. I really appreciate it.”
And I could tell that he did, and that in his heart, he was a kind, sincere, and perhaps slightly odd man. Possibly the love of my life.
At the bar that evening, we didn’t talk at all, since we had somehow gotten ourselves seated several people apart, but still I tried to flirt with him from across the table. He would look at me and smile like we shared some kind of secret.
The following week, I again organized a trip to the pub, and this time, we got it right. We sat next to each other and promptly ignored all others around us. At one point, Josh got a notification on his phone from a popular online introductory service, urging him to be a more active user of the service.
He said, “I hate online dating.” I said, “Me too.” And then we stared at each other for 47 seconds. Then he said, “You’re looking at me like I’m about to burst into flame.”
That evening after the bar, I accompanied him back to the bike room. It was there that we finally explored the tension behind the deep 47 second silence.
He said, “The reason I stopped talking back there at the bar was because I was thinking of asking you out.” I said “OK.” And he said, “Would you want to go out with me?” And I said, “Yes.” And he said “Like on a date?” And again, for I think the 3rd time, I said yes.
That night, he biked with me about 28 minutes out of his way, accompanying me on my night journey back to Edgewater. We talked about SAT scores, the city of Chicago, and the fact that he had no intentions of following me home, even though he came very close to doing so. We eventually parted ways, exchanged numbers, and eagerly awaited the next time we would see each other.
I’ll fast forward a bit. The dates went well. We liked each other. We really liked each other. We loved each other. We really loved each other.
And then one night on a dock in Northern Wisconsin, we asked each other if we wanted to make it forever. The answer was yes.
P.S.
Oh, and eventually we figured out the original date that we had met was probably at that Chi Hack Night in 2017, when he was telling ChiHackNight to leave, though we both radically changed our look by 2018 when we met again (he had cut his hair and I had dyed mine platinum blonde), and so had trouble recognizing each other later.