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​His Story

​Like most great love stories of its time, it started with a Facebook message.

 

Danny's awkward attempt at asking Hillary out for a drink via social media on a fateful summer day in July 2012 somehow worked in his favor. They hit it off on the rooftop at Rock Bottom Brewery over a couple of beers and Hillary's account of what it was like to go to her high school prom with their mutual friend, David Hymen.

 

A week later, the two met up for brunch at River North hotspot Tempo, where Hillary proceeded to order the fresh strawberry waffle with a scoop of ice cream on top. Danny was immediately intrigued. But the real magic happened a handful of dates later, with the two still yet to define their relationship. Hillary invited Danny to go out dancing with her and her co-resident friends at Scarlet, a popular establishment in Chicago's Boystown neighborhood.

 

Danny arrived late to the club and walked in the door, where he was greeted by a barrage of strobe lighting, a pounding techno beat and more leather clothing than he'd ever seen before in one room. Unsure of his surroundings and how he would find Hillary in the crowd, Danny texted her to come to the door to retrieve him, which Hillary -- in leather pants of her own -- promptly did.

 

"I think I'm going to stay within 3 feet of you at all times tonight," Danny said as they waded through the club.

 

Dancing continued as the troop of Rush University residents guzzled more liquid courage, until one of them reached the point of losing her balance. A sober Hillary quickly moved to help her up amid the chaos, leaving Danny awkwardly dancing alone for an extended period of 25-30 seconds.


Then came the tap on Danny's shoulder that would change his life forever.
 

He turned around to find a well-dressed gentleman with a 6'5" frame and hop in his dance step. He was something out of a Bill Carmody playbook.
 

"Hey," the man said to Danny with a twinkle in his eye.
 

"Hey," Danny replied, making it painfully clear that he had never been in a gay bar before.
 

"Is that your girlfriend?" the man asked, motioning to Hillary, who was still struggling to bring her over-served friend to her feet.
 

Danny turned and looked at Hillary.
 

"Yes," he said with emphasis. "Yes, she is."
 

And in that uncomfortable moment, a lifelong relationship was born.

 

​

Her Story

​I had just moved back to Chicago after spending 8 years in Boston and was looking to make some friends. So it was much welcomed when my high school friend, Max, invited me to a party at his place. I met many people that night, but there was one guy in particular who stood out – the one wearing old torn jeans and a sweatshirt.

Who wears a sweatshirt to a party, especially a party in June? He didn’t seem too interested in talking to me anyway; he apparently preferred to continue his hour-long conversation with some dude about sports.

About a month later, I received a Facebook message from a Danny Ecker. I immediately recognized him as sweatshirt-guy. He said that we have a mutual friend and asked if I wanted to grab a drink. I reminded him that we had already met at Max’s party, of which he had no recollection (*slightly awkward moment).

In the end, I decided to give the guy a break and agreed to meet up with him. We met at Rock Bottom Brewery and had a drink at the rooftop bar. We immediately hit it off. When we were finished, he insisted on walking me 20 city blocks home, although I secretly preferred to take a cab. On the walk home, I learned that Danny was Jewish, which was a pleasant surprise as I assumed he was not given his sandy hair and blue-green eyes.

 

The night ended with Danny giving me an “ass-out” hug and then a neighbor in my apartment building commenting on the “ass-out” hug in the elevator.

Danny followed up with an appropriately-timed phone call two days later. And the rest was history.

OUR STORY

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