Neither of us can recall exactly when we met (though certainly through our college friends Newman and Katie), and though Patrick insists it was Freshman year and Gwen knows it was Sophomore year, we both remember the night it all sparked. It was fall. We met up with friends at Ethel’s place, and took a midnight trek through the woods of South Bend to get to Denny’s. Moons Over My Hammy, sugar packet football, marching to the beat of our own drums; there was something there.
Later that same school year, Gwen had been fretting for months over whether to go to Chile for a semester or stay and take a more-than-full load of classes in order to graduate a semester early. Another fateful midnight meeting, in line for “quarter dogs,” Patrick revealed that he was planning to go to Chile. In that moment, Gwen knew that her mind was made up too.
We spent the second semester of Junior year living and studying in Santiago. Among our incredible group of Norteamericanos that studied there with us, we gained a mutual respect and admiration for one another that grew into a deep friendship. However, dating one another wasn’t really on either of our radar while in another country – Patrick was busy trying to immerse himself in the Chilean culture, and Gwen was busy trying to see every corner of South America that she could in a few short months. A few of those trips we took together – camping in Siete Tazas, dancing in Vina del Mar, but the most magical by far was nearly a week on Easter Island. As travelers and as friends, we realized what a great team we made. Sitting in a sandy cave, above the beach, we both wanted to kiss one another, but were each too shy. (Or rather, Gwen didn’t remember that we had already drunkenly kissed, and Patrick, having remembered, wasn’t sure if he had dreamt it.)
Alas, it wasn’t until returning to South Bend for our Senior year, and after a full week of constantly being in one another’s company, that we finally shared the kiss we would both remember, and went on to spend the rest of the year dating, philosophizing, and debating whether love is more like a rose garden or a field of wildflowers.
After college, we went our separate ways – Patrick back to Easter Island to teach English, next to Africa, then finally landing in New York; Gwen to Denver to work in news, later to compete on a reality television show that she really doesn’t like to talk about, then finally landing in Los Angeles to produce more reality television. We didn’t ever lose touch, and we would see one another at least once a year to be reminded that no one else really stacked up against the other. But the timing wasn’t ever right – Gwen was building her TV career and Patrick was building a salad shop called GreenStreets. One of us would be in a relationship, and just when it was ending, the other would be beginning something with another.
Until finally, in August of 2014, a solid ten years after first meandering through the woods to Denny’s and onto one another’s radar, Gwen was in Brooklyn, and the timing was suddenly perfect. A supermoon lit our way into the ocean for a midnight swim – and into one another’s arms. Even the ocean waves couldn’t dampen the sparks, bursting like firecrackers. In November, Patrick flew to San Francisco, and Gwen picked him up from SFO with her vintage trailer Long Teal Sally in tow, introducing him for the first time to pups Jim and Long John. We rambled our way down to Big Sur, then into the redwoods for Thanksgiving, and it was then that we realized: not only did we make a great team – we made a family. By May of the following year, Gwen, Jim, and Long John moved out to New York to live life as that family. We built a life together in the city while simultaneously dreaming about a life together out West. Patrick was able to find a buyer for GreenStreets, and our dream was closer than ever. Two and a half years later (or, thirteen years later depending on how you look at it), on our last day in New York, in a boat on the lake in Central Park, with a custom ring we designed together, we both said yes to a life of love and adventure, and marching to the beat of our own drum, together.
