Yes, it’s true; I only dated my fiancé for two months before I proposed to him. It might seem brash and stupid but I feel like it is the best decision of my life. My fiancé is my best friend, my confidant, my partner and the best person I’ve ever had the privilege to meet.

I met him in the class I was forced to take for a humanities credit at my liberal arts college. The class was comparative politics, and at the time I was a chemistry major with very little interest in the functions of politics. He came in late and took the last open seat beside me. I knew instantly that I wanted to get to know him. At the end of class, he asked for my number and told me we should study together. I was so dazed that I didn’t catch his name so instead I put his number in my phone with an emoji of a cherry, because I wanted him to pop mine.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in energy and I believe in connections. When he sat down next to me I felt connected to him. I felt calm and excited all at once. Okay, maybe I was a bit of a horny college first year but I swear to you, there was something real in that moment.

I found out a few weeks later that he was dating someone. I felt silly for having been so clueless to think that he was coming on to me and tried to curb my feelings for him. Over the school year, we only hung out a couple of times but it was that summer I spent on campus with him that made me realize that I loved him completely.

The time I spent with him was easy; we could talk about anything and did. Our conversations lasted for hours and before we realized it we had spent the entire nights talking. We cooked together, cleaned together, shopped together. We had similar likes and dislikes, we had similar ideas of a good time, and we had the same tastes in movies and books. I was vegan and he was working on becoming vegan. Our childhoods were similar. Our parents ideologies were similar. The list of emotional and psychological connections just continued to grow, but it didn’t really all come together until the second semester of my sophomore year.

His partner broke up with him at the end of the next semester while my fiancé was abroad. It didn’t have anything to do with me, I doubt. My fiancé and I only talked every once in a while after the summer ended, and I was doing my best not to let my emotions show. I did such a good job that even after he came back from his study abroad he didn’t realize I liked him until we got super drunk at a Sherlock Holmes Convention and both confessed to having feelings for each other. We started dating shortly after that, and two months later I proposed to him.

I knew I loved him at that point. I knew I trusted him. I knew that I had found someone I could spend forever with because:

We talk to each other. We have open communication always, about everything. I feel comfortable telling him when I feel sick or depressed, or when I need space and I know he feels comfortable doing the same. We talk about our feelings, we talk about music, we talk about politics and ethics. We don’t keep secrets. We don’t talk over each other and we try to be respectful.

We are our own people. We don’t try to make the other mold to our idea of a perfect partner. We accept that there are going to be quirks we can’t fix about each other. I accept that he will always be late to everything and he accepts that I have a temper and that sometimes I need to act like an ogre and stomp around. I accept that he loves tomatoes, and he accepts that I don’t. We are not co-dependent. We don’t feel that we have to be identical in our thoughts or actions.

We are partners. We work as a team and we trust each other. We don’t do something that will affect the other without talking through it first. We accept that there are strengths and weakness to both of us. He is better at calling and making appointments; I’m better at budgeting. Together we make a functional adult.

We have the same idea of what love is. I make food to show people I love them and he understands and appreciates it. He makes surprises and tries to get people to smile to show he loves them and I understand and appreciate it. Our communication of affection goes beyond that of speech, it’s worked into our every interaction. Our concepts of love are matched; we aren’t left feeling like we are being neglected or like we need affection.

Lastly, he makes me feel special. When I climb into bed with him and he wraps his arms around me I feel needed, I feel protected. When I make food for him and he enjoys it, I feel happy. When he tells me he loves me, I believe him.

I asked him to marry me not because I “need” him to survive, but I want him. I want to make him happy the way he makes me happy. I want to make him smile the way he makes me smile. I want to keep feeling the way I do around him for the rest of my life. I want others to recognize and respect that I have pledged to be tied to him financially, emotionally, and physically for the rest of my life. We’ve been engaged for a year now and I’m just counting down the days until our wedding next summer.