I met my future wife, Carey, at a Macklemore concert. The two of us had been chosen to dance on stage as he performed in front of the world’s most powerful advertising executives at a YouTube event. After the show, we bumped into each other again and we ended up at Schiller’s in the lower east side for a late dinner. I wasn’t looking for love and neither was she; we were just living our lives, enjoying ourselves when we happened to cross paths.

Our relationship progressed as they typically do, starting with an extra toothbrush at her place, and turning into a few more hangers in my already-tight, typical NYC closet. Of course, that was the least of my worries and I kept my foot on the gas. I knew she was incredibly special, but I also knew I wasn’t quite ready for the next big step.

One night, the topic of marriage came up and I was upfront and honest about not feeling ready. I told her that while I was getting more financially secure each year, I was still far from being able to finish the castle that I had dreamed of building her before asking her to marry me. She looked me directly in the eye and replied: “I don’t want you to build me a castle. I want us to build our castle together.”

“I don’t want you to build me a castle. I want us to build our castle together.”

That was a defining moment that created a paradigm shift in the way I viewed and approached the idea of marriage.

Don’t get me wrong, it was still another six-to-eight months before I really felt ready, but once I did I was very much at ease with the promise of spending the rest of our lives together. It was okay that I didn’t have all the answers, that I didn’t have everything figured out. All I needed to know was that I’d rather go through this life with her more than anyone else.

So when I woke with blurry eyes that progressed to double vision, and tingling in my nose, mouth, and fingertips a week before I was planning on asking her parents’ permission to marry her. I started to get worried. One by one, doctors inspected me from head to toe trying to solve this mystery illness. “Multiple Sclerosis”, they kept saying, “all the signs point to Multiple Sclerosis”. After eight hours in the Emergency Department, the neurology fellow stopped by and gave me his input. “It’s likely MS, but there is one other rare disease that it could be — Miller Fisher Syndrome. But the likelihood of that is slim since the incidence is one in one million.” My mom was right — it turns out I am one in a million. It was Miller Fisher Syndrome.

Miller Fisher Syndrome

Miller Fisher Syndrome is a very rare, acquired nerve disease that is a type of Guillain-Barré Syndrome (GBS). It’s a disease that’s often preceded by a cold or the stomach bug. GBS makes you lose all coordination, paralyzes your eyes muscles, and eventually paralyzes your whole body, including your lungs, if it’s not diagnosed and treated quickly. Most people who get GBS have a unique antibody that characterizes the disorder. In layman’s terms — there’s a glitch in my internal code and when I got this specific cold, it turned my body against itself.

When I was in the hospital (where Carey happens to work) for several weeks, she would work during the days a few floors above and at night she slept in uncomfortable chairs and cots, never leaving my side. The treatment regimen was straightforward: two big bags of plasma (a part of human blood) x five days, and it started slowly reversing my symptoms.

The neurology team was floored by the rare diagnosis and my relatively quick recovery, and a gaggle of residents would analyze and take notes on me every day. After discharge, I returned several weeks later and the doctor said he had never seen someone recover so fully and so quickly from such a potentially devastating disease.

Looking back on it now, the entire experience was surreal. I am so lucky.

We are so lucky.

Most people don’t have the opportunity to endure such a difficult test before they get engaged or married. Her unwavering love and dedication to helping me through this harrowing battle every step of the way was more than I could have even imagined.

I knew she was THE ONE.

Now for the second difficult task — getting the engagement ring.

There is so much noise around it that it makes the process almost unappealing. It is billed as this beautiful, romantic, once-in-a-lifetime moment, but why was I feeling so overwhelmed? This experience was so far from my comfort zone and I knew absolutely zero at the start.

What is all this jargon that I was expected to know? What is florescence? What is a cushion? A halo? Cut? Clarity? What is her ring size? My head was spinning. The pressure was mounting and neither websites nor conversations that I had was of any help. These terms were so foreign to me that I literally had no idea where to begin.

I looked online at the thousands and thousands of different rings for sale. Should I customize the ring? Or purchase something preset? Why was the range in price so massive for two rings that look nearly identical? It was a dizzying experience that wasn’t helping at all. The other thing was that I was about to make one of the largest purchases of my life and I never felt comfortable spending thousands of dollars online, sight unseen.

So then after a tip from a buddy of mine, I ended up wandering around a few jewelry shops in New York City. As soon as I arrived I regretted my decision. It felt more like I was buying drugs than buying a symbol of my eternal love. Sketchy dudes were coming up to me on the street asking if I had a diamond to sell. I kept my head down and quickly walked into a store. From the moment I walked in I felt the eyes of every sales associate on me. I might as well of had a sign over my head that said “fresh meat.” I scanned the room and noticed a few other guys and couples shopping. I was trying to have an intimate conversation about budget, style, what my fiancée is like but there were so many people around. It felt rushed and uncomfortable. I overheard one of the guys saying proudly that his budget was $35,000. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. That was way more than my budget.

It felt rushed and uncomfortable. I overheard one of the guys saying proudly that his budget was $35,000. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. That was way more than my budget.

Six weeks later, and three more visits to the jewelry shop, I finally had the ring and a number of battle scars to prove it.

I took Carey back to Schillers, and proposed over a couple of beers and some fries. She said yes and afterwards I had all our closest friends and family waiting at another restaurant around the corner to celebrate. It was perfect.

Once I came down from the engagement high, my roommate showed me this picture that he had taken while I was ring shopping online.

“There has to be a better way. What you went through to get her engagement ring is a broken and antiquated process.”

I thought about all the information that I had crammed into my head like I was studying for a trigonometry test that I would never need to use again.

What if we could design a process that has the modern man and woman in mind? What if we educated you, the client in a way that wasn’t condescending or intimidating? What if we did it all on your terms, over the phone and in the comfort of your own home or office?

So we did.