Where does the story of Beth Carpenter and Jason Pyrz start? Let me take you back. Way back. All the way back to the official dismantling of the Berlin Wall, the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, and, most importantly, the pinnacle of western civilization that was MC Hammer and those amazing pants.

In 1990 we were in eighth grade at Orland Junior High, in Orland Park, IL. We had never crossed paths before we were assigned the same table in Mr. Lieb’s science class. I (Jason) fell immediately for Beth. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever met, and I was dumbfounded when she returned the interest I was showing in her. We dated, on and off, the entire year. We were each other’s first real kiss, and she was my first true heartbreak.

Not long after the photo to the left (or above, depending on how wide your screen is) was taken at our eighth-grade graduation dinner dance, Beth had finally had enough of my immature 14-year-old shenanigans and cut me loose. I used to believe that was the last time we ever spoke as kids, but Beth was able to bring receipts and prove to me that we were actually in some of the same classes in high school (I was so traumatized, I guess I blocked that from my memory). High school turned into college, which turned into adulthood – but I always looked back at Beth as the one who got away. I was an idiot for messing that up. I spent my entire life thinking Beth hated me.

Fast forward to the advent of Facebook. I had always been curious about Beth, and how she was getting on. I added Beth as a friend, hoping she’d forgotten what a little jerk I was, 18 years before, and was legitimately happy that she seemed to be living her best life. Did I ever expect that I would one day be marrying her? Absolutely not.

Over the years, Beth and I would try to get our families together because, we thought, our families were so similar in personality, beliefs, politics, etc.. That never ended up happening aside from the time I went to one of her “Sip n’ Stretch” yoga classes – years before we even began to realize that there would someday be something between us. Jump forward a few more years, to the time when our respective existing relationships deteriorated past the point of saving, and I received a message from Beth. I had been so open about my mental health struggles on social media, and how I had been seeing a relationship therapist since just before the pandemic, and she had a question about said therapists.

We ended up talking for seven hours that night.

It took a few more of those marathon chat sessions before either of us was willing to admit that there could be something between us. On the contrary, we each did our best to push each other away – sharing all of our dark and dirty secrets in a subconscious effort to end whatever this was before it started, to avoid getting hurt. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for our subconsciouses, those admissions caused us to fall even harder for each other.

In time, both of our existing relationships came to their official end, and we were finally able to be together in the way it felt we were always supposed to be. We have often said that it feels like we’ve been trying to make our way towards each other for lifetimes – I’m thrilled we got to do this in this lifetime. I love you, Beth Carpenter – I’m not letting you go ever again.