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I knew I wanted to marry my now-fiancé, Kelsey, after four months of dating. Thus, when she finally 1,628 days — but who's counting? — later, it was an easy yes. The hard part was proposing back.

took me a full five months to figure out. My delay mostly hinged on a (somewhat) irrational fear of not living up to hers, which, to be fair, was the stuff of rom-coms: Kelsey dropped to one knee at sunset on a private beach in the Philippines, cotton candy skies and palm trees as our witness, followed by a at our overwater villa where we sipped Champagne and danced to a song she wrote and commissioned. With my own proposal, I wanted her to feel even a morsel of what I did in that moment: a mix of sound and silence, of lightning bolts and Enya.



Anyway. What's the human equivalent of breathing into a paper bag, without the bag? That was me come time to propose back. It was early February, and I had planned a series of unfolding surprises, starting at our spot and ending with an intimate musical performance in the back of a speakeasy.

Family and friends flew in from across the country, popping in sporadically as the evening unfurled, including guitarist for rock band Incubus Mike Einziger and master violinist Ann Marie Einziger — also, founders of — who serenaded us well into the evening. When I looked over at her, with everyone we love scream-singing "Drive" around us, it became worth every stress-text, all the coordinating of logistics, the countless reservations made (then.

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