The year was 2003. Seven Nation Army and Ignition were playing on the radio (depending on whether you were listening to 102.1 The Edge or KISS 92 FM). Finding Nemo was the summer blockbuster, and Blockbuster was thriving. A new hit show called The O.C. was taking our TVs by storm (if you had satellite), and Wicked was making its Broadway debut. We lost the legendary Johnny Cash, but a new legend, Olivia Rodrigo, was born (literally). Madonna and Britney kissed on TV, and Angelina and Billy Bob called it quits. And in a high school drama class, probably on a crisp fall morning, a Type-A overachiever with no sense of style and a sk8er boi with fingernails painted black and safety pins in his lip were about to meet for the first time.

We were destined to meet, not because of fate, but because there was only one high school in Port Perry. It still took us two full years before we formally met in the first term of Grade 11, under the charcoal-lined eyes of Ms. Chisamore, which was not surprising because we had no common friends, classes, or extracurricular interests. Somehow, meeting halfway through high school was both much too late and much too early.

We didn’t “date,” but we were inseparable (outside of school hours) for close to a year. Which, in high school years, is at least five years. We even had a brief stint “working” together at Dairy Queen, which meant that Catherine got Trevor a job at DQ that he sometimes showed up for and never actually worked at when he did. Even though smartphones hadn’t been invented yet, we managed to find our way to Toronto together a few times—unaccompanied minors roaming Yonge Street in search of Buddies in Bad Times Theatre.

In 2005, we went our separate ways. We each had experiences to gain, new friends to meet, and life to live. Our paths criss-crossed: we both lived in Ottawa, but never at the same time, and then we both lived in Toronto, the city that always had our hearts, but never met (except for one awkward run-in outside of a Shoppers or Metro, depending on who you ask). Until we were destined to meet again exactly a decade later, not because of fate, but because of a then relatively new app called Tinder.

We both swiped right and shortly after met up at a bar on Ossington. Trevor had shed the black nail polish and safety pins and Catherine had doubled down on the Type-A overachiever personality, and we were both worried we’d have nothing to say to each other. But we had a thousand things to say. We moved to a second bar on Ossington and, in an instant, the decade disappeared. And in another instant, another decade passed.

If you are reading this, you have shared this last decade with us. You have watched us grow together, navigating relationship ups and downs, a failed dog adoption, and successful cat ownership. You have watched us make Toronto our home and travel the world (and maybe you even joined us). And now you get to watch us “make it official.” See you all soon ;)