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Gwen Bell Dot Com

Heart of the Start <3

How Gwen + Joel Met (on Twitter, natch), Fell in Love, Got Engaged: A Story of New School Tech, Old School Courtship and Big, Big LoveOctober 7

This is how we met.

I rolled my carryon luggage into the building on January 2, 2008. I had on my traveling outfit.

He was there. He seemed shy and friendly. His hair was shorter than it was in his Twitter profile picture (which, admittedly, at 100×100 pixels, isn’t a whole lot of information. We really officially “met” on Twitter). His eyes, brown. His desk, clean. These were my first impressions.

At the very least, it was like at first sight.

A week or two passed. He asked if I would mind going out for coffee to talk about mindfulness. Really. He wanted to talk about my practice as a student of Buddhism. I couldn’t think of the last person I’d talked to about mindfulness besides Patrick. And that was for a podcast. People just don’t talk about mindfulness in the modern world of computers and tech and hubbubbly electronics.

I said yes, of course.

Really, I said yes every time he asked. Except once.

This is how we fell in love.

In February Joel asked if I wanted to go out for sushi. It was lunchtime. We sat down at a two top and Joel started nervously fingering his “Personal” Moleskine. This much was clear: he wanted to ask me something. I asked if we could wait until the miso came out. Then _I_ got nervous. For him. For me. For the situation. We barely knew each other (look at me, being modest for once)!! We’d only been dancing once or twice at that point.

In a flurry of words, he asks me out. He drops the word “court” as in “courtship.” How normally he would ask my dad but this isn’t a “normal” situation since I don’t have a dad in my life. And since I’ve dated quite a bit it seemed unnatural for him to call my grandfather to ask if he could date me. I concurred that would have been a bit weird.

I get back to the office and he asks me, over ichat, if it’s ok if he lets his parents know he has a girlfriend. I type one word: choke.

It is February 8. This is a sliver of the conversation that follows.

me: when’s the last time you dated a girl?
Joel: umm… not ever, really
me: ok
wow
uhm
Joel: is that a problem?
me: not in the least

I said “not in the least” but what I meant was “eep!” This is about the moment I hit the internal Panic Button. You know the one. The one that is there for emergencies when you’ve said “yes” to something small that turns out to be gigantic.

We talked about my hesitation to date one guy exclusively. He listened to my concerns and assured me whatever I decided was ok.

I told him I’d like to give it a try, just the two of us. That’s what we did. No regrets, no takebacks.

(click that pic to get a bigger version)

We start something called a Growing Journal. He writes a page or two, gives it to me, I write a page or two. At first, in February, it’s just about how much we dig each other. Eventually, the pages become layered with our fears and sadnesses and hopes. We write in it to keep up with the other person’s life. We want to know. We want to grow.

We start doing weekly Date Nights. Each Friday night we slow down to talk about where we’re at. Where we’ve been over the week We celebrate successes. We tackle challenges. We make out. It’s, you know, datey.

Early in our relationship he wrote me a custom greasemonkey script for my gmail inbox. Throughout the day little messages pop up to remind me how he feels about me. “Looking sexy, I see…” and “I love you, Beautiful” are two of the notes that rotate through my inbox. You know, it keeps things fresh.

He is a Digital Renaissance man. A Code Poet, as his business cards say. He knows when to push back, when to let things drop. He is chivalrous. He always opens the car door for me. He recently told me he’d helicopter out to pick me up if I found myself in a problem situation (and I know that he would but wouldn’t even consider taking him up on the offer, which he knows). His faith is deep. He’s smart, charming, loving, giving, caring. He lets me brainstorm wildly and then tells me what we can actually accomplish. He loves his family. He adores his parents. He encourages me in my work.

Love isn’t work. Relationship is. We view it as work and we do our jobs with love in our hearts.

– October 5, 2008– (This is how we got engaged.)

This morning feels very far away right now but I want to get it down on paper now, before it leaves me in the mad rush of tomorrow morning, as we leave for San Francisco.

The morning started around 9. Joel asked how quickly I could get ready to get out the door. This was different than how we usually start the day. I’m a slower to get moving type.

So I threw my hair up into knots on either side of my head, dusted on a bit of makeup and zipped up my boots. Twenty minutes or less and we’re out the door.

We were going on “a drive” Joel said. I thought this was a great idea. The leaves are turning and the mountains look gorgeous right now. We stop to get scones. I run inside and stand in the Sunday line. Two sisters, about five years old and decked out in cotton candy pink, point at everything in the display case. I decide on two of the juicier looking scones: a mixed berry peach and a raspberry one.

Getting back in the car I admit I’d kind of like a coffee to go with the scones.

Joel says we can get one later. We drive up into the mountains and it looks like the trees are on fire. Crinkly leaves along the side of the road. Those yet unfallen - yellow, orange, burnt red.

We drive for about fifteen minutes in one direction. Joel pops a u-ey and heads back towards downtown. I ask him where to next. He stops near Pearl Street and asks me to get out of the car. Grabs our hedgehogs (they arrived on my desk in a tiny box when we first started dating; he pays good attention to detail). Gives them to me and tells me to take them on a walk and go find our friend Jeffrey Larrimore.

I do as he says. Pearl is empty. Boulder folks do love their sleep.

9:30ish

On my way up the street I notice that Fall is kissing the trees here, too. Maybe a slower kiss, but it is arriving.

The last of the flowers are yellow and red. I remember the brilliancy of the tulips from Spring.

I see Jeffrey. He says,”hey!” and snaps a photo of me. I suspend suspicion. Kind of.

Jeffrey claims to be in need of a coffee. Good thing because I need one, too! We walk to The Cup together. He seems his normal level of skiddishness. We chat about the website we’re working on together.

We get to The Cup and order. I get a cappuccino and make small talk with Ashley, one of my barista friends. She has a Vampiress on her shirt. I ask her if she could pour Vampiress latte art for me. She says it would take her years to get to that level of baristahood and she hopes that day never comes. We chuckle about barista lifers.

Jeffrey wanders off for a few seconds. He comes back and says, “Did you know Mogwai is coming to town?!” I’m like, “no.” He says, “well, their poster is awesome…it’s in the back, come look at it!” So I say “bye” to Ashley and run off after Jeffrey.

I notice the tablecloth first. Yellows and reds and greens - poppies? The table is set for two. And there he is. He has tears in his eyes. He asks me to sit down. I do. I’m nervous for him but I’m not sure why.

We make pouty faces at each other. He starts saying sweet things that I half hear because he’s saying them faster and softer than usual. I know there’s a lot in there about how much I mean to him. How much he adores me. How he wants to spend his life with me.

He pulls me into his lap. He begins to cry. I begin to cry. I look up and see the “Gwen, Will You Marry Me” sign. I start laughing. Cry-laughing.

He asks me to marry him, asks if I’ll spend the rest of my life building with him. I hug him and cry onto his shoulder after saying, “Yes, definitely. Of course.”

–February 28, 29– (we made it Facebook official on February 29th, these are notes from my journal)

Plunge.
Make a mighty noise. A roar. Clash wildly.
These are all notes to self. It is so easy to forget. So easy to simply give up. To be in the moment and hold back. I guess wherever I’m holding back, that’s where I need to explore.

It’s about midnight on the 28th. I’m ready for sleep but excited — too excited — to do so. Joel asked me tonight if I’d be his girlfriend. Amazing. It’s been almost ten years since I’ve heard those words (not even sure I did then!)

This year, only two months in, has been on of my truest, most honest, most fulfilling years so far. I love Boulder. I am growing in my work. Joel delights and enthralls me. My sitting practice is regular. Yoga, too. I am connecting with places and people that touch me deeply.

Which means I have no clue where this could end up, but I’m loving the journey. Honestly, it’s a gorgeous, sparkling thing. Even the struggles are ending in a breakthrough (public and private). Sleep.
—

This is just the beginning of our story. The story of the ring, of our wedding plans, of how we’re building on this base is yet to come. I’m planning to write about it at length on another site that will be built by the end of this week (and I’ll update this post to provide you with the link when it’s ready to rock). The journey is just beginning and I invite you along with us. We’re thrilled to be able to share it in so many mediums. We hope that through our story yours will blossom, too. Thank you for celebrating with us.

–

Candied Apples are the New Cupcakes. And…It’s Official - I’m the Newest Kirtsy Girl!October 3

I wish you and I could sit down for a coffee and candied apples for this one. (Hunch: candied apples are the new cupcakes.)

It’s a story that I want to share with you. About Kirtsy. The good people of Kirtsy and how, as of this week, I came to be a part of the team.

It was a hot, humid summer evening in Chicago. I was hanging out at the rooftop cocktail party at Blogher. It was July 2007 and I had just returned a bag of books to Caroline Donahue that she’d forgotten the night before on the bus. We became insta-friends. Tara Anderson was there. And Milda. And Allison Blass. I had on my yellow pants and frizzy hair.

Someone cracked a mom joke. You know the kind, “your momma’s so blank she blank blanks when she blanks.” To be more specific, it was a your momma joke directed at me. I made a quick, (hopefully witty and not terribly sinister) comeback about how you shouldn’t pick on girls with dead moms. Somehow this elicited a lot of (awkward?) laughter and as I dropped towards the ground laughing, someone caught me. I looked up to see someone I would later learn is Laura Mayes.

We explained wh

Love Back: 5 Ways to Honor Your Fans, Commenters, Cheerleaders, Customers and Beta TestersSeptember 30

You make time for your fans.

That’s what I found myself saying last night. This isn’t optional. You make time for your fans. It’s going to look different for every company, every blogger, every individual.

(Overview: This post is an exploration, through personal anecdotes, of ways you can honor your base of supporters. If you’re short on time, skip to the end of the post to get my top five tips.)

Since the start of the year I have been a cheerleader for umpteen (mostly tech) startups. These companies, and I love them dearly, sometimes take off and occasionally sputter to a halt. Honestly, like a mother loves her children, I love them all the same. Some of them are more relevant to my life, so I take time with them - help cultivate them through design feedback, creative brainstorming and evangelism. Others, less relevant to my life, are always near the front of my mind when conversations come up at conferences or in cafes when I find they might serve someone else well.

You could call me a startup evangelist. Or a startup cheerleader. I’m going to put down the pom poms right now to give a little feedback. I’m going to give i

The Hipster’s Guide to Life Online Chapter 2: Why Blog? Why Comment?September 25

For “The Hipster’s Guide to Life Online” post series I’ve teamed up with folks in the social media/blog world (this time with the lovelyTracey from Sweetney who refers to this series as “The Social Media Zombie Ate My Brain: How To Wrestle Your Soul Back From The Gaping Maw Of Interweb Timesuck”) to bring you regular updates on life online and finding balance within it. In this series, we’re sharing our personal experiences, hacks and tricks in navigating in this emerging field. Tracey is in bold, Gwen’s responses are italicized.

This is the second chapter. Read the first.

Dear Gwen,

I’ve been applying the suggestions you gave me from the other week, with varying degrees of success.

I’ve been using AwayFind to try to corral my email a bit. Funny that: I think more than AwayFind having an actual concrete impact on my behavior, its usefulness for me has been that it’s just psychologically soothing for me to know that I’ve told people to not expect me to turn emails around on the spot. The immediac

7 Signs You Deserve the Social Media Expert Title (+ BlogWorld 08 Highlights)September 23

At BlogWorld this weekend, as I represented Kirtsy, I met dozens of people who, in addition to having day jobs or companies of their own self-identify as social/new media experts. That’s a real fancy title we’ve given ourselves, and we are, many of us, social media experts. Being an expert isn’t without its drawbacks, however, so before you decide to take the plunge into this micromediamaniacalworld (or if you already have) these are a few things to watch out for. Do you call yourself a social media expert yet? Here are 7 signs you are an expert…

1. You use the # sign everywhere. And you call it a hash tag.

I live-tweeted the sessions I attended over the weekend. In one tweet I suggested that next year they call BlogWorldExpo TwitterWorldExpo instead. We could learn all the good practices, like using the hash tag (when I was a lass, we called it a pound sign) to share your location. The hash tags from Vegas we used were #bwe08 and #cred, to