Moved by each other's words, a Sonoma County couple finds love after being quoted in a column

There is nothing better than a happy ending.

Except maybe a happy beginning.

But let's go back a little into the past. More precisely, to July 2022.

The United States Supreme Court had just overturned the Roe v. Wade decision, which had deprived half of Americans of access to health care.

And then the court's conservative majority went further. In his concurring opinion, Justice Clarence Thomas said that not only was Roe wrong, but the legal foundations of same-sex marriage, access to contraception, and the right of individuals to love whomever they want were wrong.

He said the court had an obligation to “correct the errors” contained in these precedents.

It felt like the world was shaking beneath our feet.

So I made some calls and wrote about it. In this case, I talked to people specifically about the threat to same-sex marriage.

I spoke with Kevin Krage, a local therapist who specializes in queer couples and teens, and Spencer Blank, a producer at the Windsor Pride Festival.

They didn't know each other.

But Blank was so moved by Krage's words in the column that he wrote him a message.

“Kevin's perspective was pretty much what we all thought, but no one had the courage to say it,” Blank said. “He brought the passion. He led from the heart. There was something so powerful about his words.”

Krage was touched by Blank's gratitude and responded.

“He reached out and just said, 'Thank you for what you said. I appreciate your courage,'” Krage said.

There was a brief – friendly and professional – exchange, and then the idea of ​​meeting for coffee came up. But Blank wanted to go on holiday.

And both men were at different stages of their relationship.

“I said, 'Let's take this up when I get back,'” Blank said. “And nobody did.”

Let's fast forward a few months.

Both men were now single. Both were using a dating app on the side.

Blank jokingly emphasizes that he was definitely not looking for “the one.”

“I just wanted someone to tell me I'm pretty,” he said, laughing.

But both profiles in the app were truthful but intentionally vague.

Without knowing that they actually knew each other, they chatted online.

“We just started talking about family, travel, friendship, our passions, a little bit about our lives,” Blank said. “Maybe after a few weeks of talking – just through a kind of cycle that revealed different sides of us – we realized it was the same person.”

And in a fun, modern way, a foundation had already been laid.

They were “featured” in a newspaper column in which both spoke about love and dignity, rights and freedom.

They were on the same side. Literally.

“I think we knew that each of us lived our values,” Blank said. “Just from our nature and how we felt connected by that. It was almost unspoken. We really understood each other's character.”

And the fact that those first conversations were not romantic in nature, but rather based on a mutual appreciation of their shared beliefs, made everything seem, well, almost predetermined.

Blank said it felt like a love story from another time.

“It's so 18th century to fall in love with someone's pen before you even meet them,” he said. “I didn't even see romantic love in it. And better yet, that was the real him in your article, and that's what he's been for as long as I've known him.”

The stage was set.

“I think it created a lot of goodwill knowing that we had this positive, sweet, over-the-top interaction,” Krage said. “So our first date became something really magical.”

Months earlier, they had talked about getting together for a cup of coffee. But that was now too much for them.

The couple had drinks and dinner at Jackson's Bar and Oven in Railroad Square.

“It was my last first date,” Blank said.

I asked Krage how he knew Blank was the right person and what criteria he met.

“He was much more than that,” he said. “I was so sure that for the first time in my life I didn't fall in love with a person's potential. If he didn't grow and change at all, if he stayed exactly as he is now, that would be more than enough for me. I had seen everything I needed to see.”

Your first Valentine's Day a few months later?

Using a 3D laser cutter, Krage's sister made a replica of the newspaper column that featured the two and etched her words into wood. Krage gave it to Blank.

It hangs in her house in Portland.

The couple moved there almost a year ago. It is the city where Krage grew up and still has family. It offered them a new start together.

Last month they got engaged. And boy, did they get engaged.

There was a kneeling session at the International Test Rose Garden, a flash mob and a drag queen at the Hawthorne Street Fair, a brunch for friends and family, and a whitewater waterfall a few days later.

The engagement with all registers was completed.

After their engagement party, Blank sent me an email. It was a short version of the story we're telling here. It was also a thank you note.

It moved me unspeakably.

“I feel like most people don't see the impact their work has on the world, so I knew it was important to celebrate our love with you,” he wrote in a follow-up email.

Krage was equally generous.

“You really helped us find each other,” he said. “It feels so cosmic. It couldn't have happened any other way.”

Honestly, it could have happened a million other ways.

But that wasn't the case. It just happened to these people.

And I couldn't be happier for her.

I'm a fan of happy endings, but an even bigger fan of happy beginnings.

Reach columnist Kerry Benefield at 707-526-8671 or [email protected]. On Instagram at @kerry.benefield.