Countdown to Bliss

Met: September 2000

Engaged: April 28, 2003

Projected Wedding Date: Nov. 9, 2003

Gideon Evans, 32, a producer at the Emmy-nominated The Daily Show with Jon Stewart , is marrying Jill Weidman, 35, a graphic designer with Knoll Furniture. He had planned a hip, ironic proposal in Branson, Mo., the live-music-show capital of the world-”We were the only Jews there,” Ms. Weidman said-but when they got word that her grandmother had died, the trip lost its romantic flair. He ultimately popped the question during a pretty picnic in Prospect Park, near the two-bedroom the couple bought last summer. “It was too muddy to kneel, so I just put my hands on her shoulders,” said Mr. Evans, who selected a platinum ring holding an oval sapphire and two small diamonds for his bride-to-be. “I just made a sound. It was like, ‘Aaaarreehhhhaaa!’” Ms. Weidman said of her reaction. “We communicate really well.”

They met on Match.com, where Ms. Weidman registered (under the name Mocksie, declaring her hatred of yams) after learning that the anonymous man with whom she’d been corresponding on Swoon.com was actually a co-worker. Oops! Mr. Evans e-mailed to tell her that he too liked long walks and the theme from St. Elsewhere . “I’m like, ‘ St. Elsewhere? He’s a keeper!’” she said.

“We like the Hill Street Blues one, too,” he said.

Big Brother –ishly, Match deemed them 97 percent compatible, and they met for dinner at a Thai restaurant, followed by a screening of Best in Show . “I loved that he had a real dry sense of humor,” said Ms. Weidman, a broad-cheeked Canadian lass. “Like we walked by these guys singing in Times Square, and he’s like, ‘Ugh-doo wop.’ It just cracked me up.”

For their second assignation, they went to the rotating restaurant on top of the Marriott Marquis ( big hipster ironic-date spot), then found themselves on the F train, winkingly discussing subway riders who enjoy “yanking the cord.”

“I got off and I’m like, ‘I just had a half-hour conversation with this guy I just met about masturbating on the M.T.A.!’” Ms. Weidman said. “‘I think I like him!’”

Mr. Evans, an elfin fellow with oversized dark-rimmed glasses, used to write for Michael Moore’s TV Nation (he was the body inside Crackers, the show’s eight-foot-tall Corporate Crime Fighting Chicken, and is now banned from all Disney theme parks). So he was delighted to discover a companion who “got” his highly evolved sense of humor. “It was rare I could find someone who could make me laugh,” he said. “Being in comedy, my tolerance for what is funny has really been raised.”

Their wedding will be at the Metropolitan Building in Long Island City, with music provided by D.J. Small Change from WFMU and Piñata Land Band, a self-described “dark Old World chamber-rock orchestra.” The couple, who share a love of karaoke, are planning a honeymoon in Japan. They’re looking forward to the pagodas-”Sounds like ‘Abe Vigoda,’ doesn’t it?” Ms. Weidman said, referring to the grizzly former soap opera star. And they’re randy at the thought of those infamous by-the-hour “love hotels,” some of which have entire rooms devoted to things like Hello Kitty bondage and 1950′s cars. “We just love their repressed culture,” she said.

Kenny Rosenblatt and Jessica Rovello

Met: December 1999

Engaged: March 17, 2003

Projected Wedding Date: May 30, 2004

Kenny Rosenblatt and Jessica Rovello, co-founders of Arkadium, an Internet gaming business (he’s the C.E.O., she’s the chairwoman), will be married in Rome, Italy. The ceremony will take place against the sweet strains of an accordion, in a park full of orange trees that overlooks the Vatican. “I couldn’t be happier,” said Ms. Rovello’s mom, Linda Stasi, the veteran “news broad” who currently writes a humor column for the New York Post . “He’s a mixture of Bill Gates and Ashton Kutcher!”

The handsome, brown-eyed technogeek proposed in Rome’s Jewish-ghetto section after three years of dating, armed with a white-gold ring holding a round center diamond and two baguettes-about three carats total. Ms. Rovello is a raven-haired, olive-skinned Italophile who spent a year abroad in the country as a Wellesley undergrad. (Their company logo is modeled after the Coliseum.)

The couple, both 28, will live together at Ms. Rovello’s place in Waterside Plaza. They met while working at a software development company called On2 Technology. “I knew I loved her right away when I saw her hands,” said Mr. Rosenblatt. “They’re beautiful.” After a flirty “business lunch” at Yaffa, he sent her an electronic card inviting her to the Planetarium at the Museum of Natural History. But he neglected to buy tickets ahead of time, and they arrived to find a huge line full of squalling schoolkids. So Mr. Rosenblatt manfully barged up to the front and said “Hey, you see that girl over there? I’m on a first date with her, and if I don’t get a ticket right now, my chances are gone.”

“I was like, ‘You know what? I like this guy!’” Ms. Rovello said.

As they meandered around the asteroids, she told him about her archetypal New York childhood: parents divorced when she was 2, rent-stabilized apartments, Friends Seminary. “It was always kind of Jess and me our whole lives,” Ms. Stasi said. “We’re the only two people who actually cried at Mamma Mia .” When Ms. Rovello described how her stepfather taught her how to count cards, Mr. Rosenblatt-a gambling enthusiast-lit up like a meteor.

His friends advised that he wait three to six days before contacting her, but he called from a pay phone that very night. You see, guys? True love requires no strategy.

They had the “Eureka!” moment about their company after a fight over which of them was the better Pac-Man player, when they realized there was nowhere online to settle the issue. “We’re both really competitive,” Ms. Rovello said. One of their favorite pastimes is heated backgammon contests. Who’s better?

“It’s a draw,” Mr. Rosenblatt replied, through clenched teeth.

But in all other contests, he’s the champ, according to his appreciative future mother-in-law. “Every time my computer breaks down, he comes over,” Ms. Stasi said. “When I got the worm, I called up, and the poor guy left all these backgammon players in the office and ran over and spent five hours deworming me.”

Debbie Rokhsar and Scott Rosen

Met: Oct. 31 2002

Engaged: May 13, 2003

Projected Wedding Date: Oct. 26, 2003

Bus buddies turned beloveds! Debbie Rokhsar, 38, met Scott Rosen, 35, on a ghastly-sounding United Jewish Communities–organized weeklong group tour of Argentina. “The joke was that we were both ‘looking,’ but she was doing it actively and I was just waiting for something to come along,” Mr. Rosen said. He’s a senior vice president at Thomson Financial with a nice thick beard-the kind of guy who owns seven computers, three of which actually work.

The 150 travelers stayed in Buenos Aires hotels but spent most of the trip whizzing from sight to sight on a big, chartered, air-conditioned coach. “It’s a little childish, but we always made sure to sit together,” Mr. Rosen said. “There were a lot of New Yorkers, and there was a subset of us that were like New York cynics-a little acerbic. I fell into that crowd, and I guess she did too.”

Ms. Rokhsar, an assistant vice president in finance at Continuum Health Partners, a consortium of local hospitals, has spunky brown curls and, apparently, a personality to match. “At one point, she was trying to lean on my shoulder,” said Mr. Rosen-who wouldn’t want to burrow in that beard?-”but the way the seats were set up, it didn’t quite work out.”

It was a relief when they got back to New York and could date like civilized grown-ups, starting with dinner at the Murray Hill fromagerie Artisanal. Later that week, he whipped her up a peppered tuna repast in his lower Manhattan apartment, followed by the requisite early-courtship screening of Breakfast at Tiffany’s . “He likes to do extravagant things,” Ms. Rokhsar said. “He likes fine food and fine wine and fine things.”

“I’m more about being creative-more off the cuff,” Mr. Rosen said. “She’s better at making lists and getting things done.”

The couple discovered a common interest in Spain, taking Spanish lessons together at Berlitz, then traveling ( à deux this time) to the country itself, where they salsa-danced and cooed, ” La pluma esta sobre de la mesa ” (Translation: “The pen is on top of the table”) into one another’s ears. It was the only complete sentence they had learned.

North of Barcelona, they somehow mastered enough of the language to book a room at a ninth-century castle called the Parador de Cardona. Ms. Rokhsar was thoroughly bowled over when Mr. Rosen reserved the place’s entire restaurant and hired a keyboardist and violinist to serenade them during tapas. “I thought to myself, ‘My God, what is he going to do to top this when he really does propose to me one day?’” she said. And when the musicians broke into “Moon River,” she really lost it.

“She was just bawling. She was really moved by the music,” said Mr. Rosen, who had cannily called her dad from the bathroom atop Montserrat earlier that day to ask for her hand in marriage (ah, patriarchy!), then decorated their room with petals and candles. “I got a little choked up, too.”

Out came the diamond- muy grande , as they say on the Continent.

“She was hyperventilating,” he said.

They’ll be married at a Sephardic temple in Cedarhurst, N.Y., and are looking to share a connubial Upper East Side home. Ever the romantic, the bride-to-be takes the bus to work every day.