It was November 2020, the world was still in a bit of a COVID haze, but the air smelled like hope… or maybe that was just the hand sanitizer. Either way, the pandemic was starting to shvitz its way out, a new president had just been elected, and DCers were finally emerging from their apartments like well-dressed cave people blinking into the sunlight.

Carly and Martin both happened to land on their dear friend’s rooftop (same building, how kismet!) After about four hours of light schmoozing and drinking (a lot), Carly and Martin found themselves standing by a fire pit... possibly for ambiance, possibly a relic of outdoor pandemic protocols. Unclear.

Martin said something vaguely mysterious and confidently casual like, “I’ve got connections everywhere.” Carly, never one to miss a beat, asked, “Wait… are you Jewish? Only a Jew would say that.”

And of course...

He was. Carly, delighted by the discovery (and never one to play it too cool), turned up the charm with the kind of effortless flair that says, “I know a good thing when I see it.” A few more hours of witty banter and unmistakable chemistry later, Martin asked her out.

And the rest is history. Or as Carly’s Poppy would say: Besheret.