A brief story of how we got here:

Like most of Sonija’s impulsive decisions, it started with a dating app. One swipe, one cringe, delete — except her third-ever date became the man she’s now marrying. Statistically rude to everyone still swiping.

Robin’s version? A Swiss gentleman — crisp shirts, good manners, and one bad date away from deleting the app. Then came her: confident, chaotic, clearly trouble.

They had the same pickup line. He texted, “Why do we have the same pickup line?” — accusing her of plagiarism before date one. Probably a red flag. Definitely fate.

Their chats were pure sarcasm — less flirting, more psychological warfare. Within ten lines, they knew it was either a disaster or the best first date ever.

Robin showed up early (obviously) — white shirt, off-white pants, beige loafers, Swiss punctuality. She showed up late (obviously) — chaos in heels. The date went too well. So well that Robin, ever the salesman, pitched a deal: “If this goes well, next date’s a Georgian dinner an hour away.” Smooth. Strategic. Slightly delusional.

Sonija, however, had other plans. Instead of wine and candlelight, she took him straight to Shuk HaCarmel — Tel Aviv’s loudest, stickiest bar, famous for questionable hygiene and jukim with residency rights.
Robin, still in white-on-beige, sat on a wobbly bench beside drunk Taglit kids, spilled beer, and bad techno. He didn’t flinch. He smiled. He stayed. And that’s when she knew — this one’s not running.

A few days later came the question: “When’s your birthday?”
“April,” he said.
An Aries.
Within minutes, the Co–Star app was open, planets spinning. Two Aries. Two leaders. Two control freaks. She thought, either this is it, or there can’t be two suns in one sky.
Turns out, there can — they just argue over whose sky it is.

Since then, it’s been chaos and comedy: long distance, red alerts, inside jokes, and life lived at full volume. They bonded over pelmeni, Asian food, big families, geopolitics, and passionate debates no sane couple should have — like whether you should arrive at the airport 90 minutes early (his way: efficient panic) or three hours early (her way: espresso, duty-free, existential peace).

After several lifetimes packed into a few years, they’ve proven what’s often said: opposites attract, but equals ignite.

(because who else would edit a wedding website)

I used to think this kind of love only existed in Jane Austen novels and Leonardo DiCaprio movies — something people talked about but never really found. I told my girlfriends that real love was probably extinct, and if not, it definitely required divine intervention.

But I was wrong.

[read in Carrie Bradshaw’s voice]

Maybe that’s the thing about love — it doesn’t always arrive with flowers or fireworks. Sometimes, it just quietly moves in, unannounced, and starts rearranging your life until you can’t remember what it looked like before.

And just like that, I realized… love isn’t what you find.
It’s what you build — one beautiful, ridiculous day at a time.