It started on Twitter. Like all the best love stories do.
Madi was living in Tel Aviv, working for a nonprofit trying to start healthy dialogues between Israelis and Arabs and trying to learn Hebrew and Arabic at the same time (which is a great way to learn neither).
Fish was living in Maryland, training youth peace activists, building a startup, and being an objectively mediocre grad student.
We were both going on unsatisfying Hinge dates. (No offense.)
And then Madi tweeted something and Fish saw it. Neither of us can remember exactly what anymore, except that it was in response to some writer we both followed.
But what’s indisputable is that Fish followed Madi first. And that subsequently the algorithm, in its (pre-Elon) wisdom, kept putting Madi’s tweets at the top of Fish’s feed.
Which is how Fish came to learn that they had things in common.
Madi also worked in the peace-building sector. And loved Broadway musicals. And progressive politics. And punk rock. And the New York Times crossword. And ran mock government conferences for high school students while in college.
Even the things we didn’t have in common were intriguing. For instance, Madi was beautiful. (Fish is writing this section.)
It is generally considered weird to flirt with women you don’t know over Twitter Direct Messages.
But then Madi tweeted that she had been accepted to graduate school in DC and was moving there, and Fish figured sometimes the best things in life come from being a little weird.
So on February 16, 2021, Fish sent a DM to Madi that listed their mutual interests and ended “at the risk of seeming too earnest, I feel like we should be friends.”
Madi had never met a straight man who liked Broadway musicals before and was very excited at the prospect of a gay best friend in Washington DC, so she responded immediately.
For several weeks we sent progressively more flirtatious WhatsApps back and forth across the Atlantic.
Until March 17, when Madi told Fish — at the risk of seeming too earnest — that she couldn’t see him as just a friend anymore, and that he should take her on a date when she moved to DC.
Patience is not one of Fish’s virtues, and he had a counter-proposal. “Let me come down to Florida when you get back and work from there for a week. I’ll take you on one date, and if you don’t have a good time, you never have to see me again. And if you do, we’ll go on another.”
On April 18, we had our first date in Ft. Lauderdale. Dole Whip at Sloan’s. A catamaran ride to watch the sunset over the Atlantic. Conch fritters at Aruba.
Madi liked the date. (I loved it!!) We went on another.
And the four and a half years since have been a whirlwind of discovery and adventure.
We’ve explored 21 states and 15 countries, crushed 19 escape rooms, seen 32 musicals, and are working our way through all 74 restaurants in Downtown Annapolis.
We’ve supported each other through grad school and career transitions, leaned on each other as we work to fight authoritarianism in the United States and Israel, and teamed up to power progressive campaigns in Anne Arundel County. Moms for Liberty hates to see us coming. (*insert audio of Madi evil-giggling while editing this.*)
This year, we’ve been opening our home for a new tradition of monthly secular Shabbats.
Madi bakes the challah, cooks the meal, and curates the wine pairings. Fish sets the table, does the dishes, and makes dessert.
Fish is teaching Madi tennis. Madi is teaching Fish proper weightlifting form. Progress is slow on both fronts, but we remain optimistic.
It sounds like a lot — and we are a lot. But you’re just as likely to find us in bed working on a crossword, trying to guess the ending of The White Lotus, or Fish reading aloud to Madi.
Madi is a mostly positive influence on Fish. She makes him more curious, more open-minded, more present, more self-accepting.
Fish is a mostly positive influence on Madi. He makes her more ambitious, more disciplined, more adventurous, more confident.
Occasionally we are negative influences on each other, mostly late on weekend nights when we lock eyes and decide without speaking to order Popeyes chicken sandwiches.
On December 30, 2024, Fish re-created our first date...
...from ice cream at Sloan’s to a ride on the same catamaran — and, as the sun set over Fort Lauderdale, asked Madi to marry him. It was an easy ask, and an easy yes — because these last four years have convinced us that there will be nothing more joyful for us than building a life and a family together.
We are who we are because of all of you — the people who have raised us, shaped us, lifted us up, and helped us become the versions of ourselves who were ready to find and support each other on this adventure.
We can’t wait to have you with us as we celebrate the start of our family, and pour the love you’ve given us back out into a new generation of big-hearted dreamers, our Annapolis community, and the wider world.
Cheers!
