In the not-so-sleepy streets of Glendale, Arizona—where the tacos are spicy and the summers are spicier—Joana and David’s love story began with a parking lot standoff. Both had their eye on the same glorious, shaded parking spot outside of a Trader Joe’s. Windows rolled down, they stared each other down with the intensity of two people who take grocery shopping very seriously. Joana, cool as ever, gave a smirk and waved him in. David, never one to back down from a challenge—or a charming woman—pulled in, but made sure to thank her with a peace sign and a grin that said, “This isn’t over.”

Their second encounter happened two weeks later at the Glendale Arts Festival. Joana was admiring a cactus-shaped wind chime (because, Arizona), and David just happened to be standing next to her pretending to be fascinated by artisan soaps. “Didn’t I steal your parking spot?” he asked. “You did,” she said, “and now you owe me a churro.” And just like that, churros turned into casual dates, casual dates turned into weekend trips, and before they knew it, they were spending Friday nights arguing over which '90s sitcom was better—Friends or Frasier.

As it turns out, Joana's sharp wit and eye-rolls were the perfect match for David’s dad jokes and encyclopedic knowledge of every Marvel end-credit scene. They found magic in the mundane: making each other laugh in traffic on the 101, competing over who could spot more tumbleweeds during monsoon season, and pretending their Costco runs were date nights (because nothing says romance like bulk hummus and matching pajama sets).

Over time, love bloomed—not in a grand, cinematic fireworks kind of way—but like a perfectly timed monsoon: wild, a little chaotic, but exactly what the desert needed. One evening, during a particularly gorgeous Arizona sunset, David popped the question while Joana was halfway through a burrito. She said yes with a mouth full of guac and tears in her eyes.

And now, after nearly a decade of laughter, love, and strategic parking, Joana and David are finally saying I do. The city of Glendale will never be the same—and neither will their local Trader Joe’s.