I was just starting to find myself in my mid-20s after I started getting appropriate treatment for my ADD. The world suddenly started to seem like an amazing place full of possibilities. It was shortly after this when I met Tara. She had a pure, kind heart and was full of inner intuitive magic and wisdom to challenge my sometimes unfounded convictions and developing sense of how things should be. I experienced tremendous emotional growth through our discussions and adventures, and I could always count on her to help me recenter and provide excellent guidance as I navigated the world. I knew she was something special.

But then I got into med school…in the Caribbean. Even though she knew its potential implications for our relationship, Tara was beyond supportive about me chasing my dreams. It was pure selflessness. And I’ll never forget….right before I left for the island, she told me with pure conviction, “you’re gonna be a star.” I’ve carried those words with me ever since, and during times when I would doubt myself, I would remember those words coming from someone I respected and cared so deeply about and it would induce a burst of self-empowerment.

Once I got to the island, I poured everything I had into excelling in med school to prove to myself what I was now capable of, and it became apparent to me that I was not in the right place in my life to settle down. I was a bushy-tailed boy with so much more personal exploring and adventuring to do before I could be the right kind of partner for anyone. So we went our separate ways. I always said she would be the one that I let get away, but I genuinely believed that’s how it had to be for me to succeed in school and evolve into the person I wanted to be. Yet I always wondered if I had made a big mistake.

Four years later, it was time for the residency match. I ranked UT Houston first because in the back of my mind, I had always intended to return and win her back. I got my second pick, Mayo Arizona, which at the time made my heart sink. Although in retrospect, I still don’t think I was mature enough to settle. Phoenix was absolutely amazing as I made phenomenal friends and learned how to build a life in a city where I initially knew literally nobody (which I think is a beautiful, growth-inducing and humbling experience that everyone should experience). Yet something was still missing.

During my last year in Phoenix, Tara came in town on a girls trip and asked if I wanted to come meet up. Obviously I did, and I was astounded by how easily we slid back into our groove and realized we still had that one-of-a-kind connection that we had developed many years before. After she left, I tried to continue the interaction because my feelings had been reinvigorated, but I was saddened once I realized that she had moved on.

OR SO I THOUGHT!! Later that year, she proactively invited me to her Christmas party (which I couldn’t make) but I KNEW, “Aha! The window is still open.” I simply had to capitalize this time to fight for the amazing life I knew we could have together. So I went to Houston a month later and got drinks and caught up with her. I just felt so happy and whole which inspired me to blurt out, yet somewhat nonchalantly, “I would marry you.” She nearly spat out her drink and her incredulous and skeptical expression read, “Well Ross is doing Ross things again.”

But I had a semi-subconscious plan all along and won her back with my consistency. And now I can say, “I WILL marry you.”

My favorite song is “Bless the Broken Road.” I’ll take it in any form, by any artist. I first heard it when I was 18, and it instantly resonated with my faith in love. With the right person, the song says, love is inevitable, transcendent, majestic. I knew I wanted to find the kind of love that made everything that preceded it — “every long lost dream” — worth it.

A few years later, Ross and I met as awkward UT students when our roommates tried (and failed) to set us up on a double date. Neither of us remember much about this date — Ross didn’t even include it in his story! — and I think that’s telling. We were still finding ourselves and our voices, and as much as my heart was open to love, I don’t know if my mind was open enough to see all the possibilities.

As we entered into our mid-20s, Ross and I formed an unexpectedly deep friendship in Houston. It was built on a shared appreciation for the weird and beautiful nuances of life — we could talk for hours about things we observed in ourselves, in culture, in the people around us. Our connection led us several times to dating, but it didn’t work. He wasn’t ready, and I would later learn that I wasn’t ready either. We went our separate ways, and then we spent nearly 10 years apart.

At the start of that time, I struggled with both the immense loss of our friendship and comparing myself to other people. Everyone around me was moving forward with big life changes, it seemed, and I was standing still. Craving a shake-up, I took a leap of faith and moved to Doha, Qatar, for work.

The years that followed were filled with people and experiences that unlocked latent parts of me. There were trials, explorations, joys, moments of pure exhilaration, growth and more growth. I was only overseas for three years, but I never stopped seeking growth when I returned. Over the past few years specifically, I worked to build a deeper trust in myself and in my ability to create the life I want. I finally learned what it means to fully own — and love — my story, however different it may look from the people around me.

Ross says he won me back with his consistency, but that’s only part of the story. He won me back with his conviction in us, in how special we could be together as these different versions of ourselves. I couldn’t see the possibilities when we reconnected, but he could.

There’s a line in “Bless the Broken Road” that says, “I think about the years I spent just passing through / I’d like to have the time I lost and give it back to you.” Ross is my person, but the truth is that I wouldn’t give those 10 years back to him. That time, my broken road, is my gift. In the end, I didn’t just find a love that made every long lost dream worth it; I found a love that builds on everything that came before it, a love that thrives because of all that we became while we were apart. And yes, it’s transcendent and majestic. And it was inevitable.

With all of my heart I love this man, our story, and the ways we make each other better. We couldn’t be more grateful to celebrate this love with each of you on April 19!