Florida newlyweds Jeff and Darcy chose to flip a coin at their nuptials to choose their last name.
Jeff and Darcy married earlier this month under a curtained Wakulla Springs gazebo adorned with flowers.
But there's a twist.
At the altar, the couple flipped a coin to determine which last name they'd share: His — "Conley" — or hers, "Ward." Darcy's brother designed a brass coin engraved with their surnames and profiles.
It landed on Ward.
Some say Darcy "won." But Jeff's got a different perspective.
"You could say I won," he said, nonchalantly. "I was the one who received something new."
And, anyway, the coin flip was his idea.
"It's fair. I am a graduate student in economics at Florida State and I think about fairness," he said.
To Darcy, the idea was "all the more confirmation" she'd chosen the right guy.
"Being with someone who was willing to start the marriage from a creative and teamwork and fair place felt like a really good first step toward an equal partnership," she said.
Darcy, a certified nurse midwife, and Jeff met on the dating app Tinder. Darcy's photo of herself playing softball caught Jeff's eye. Her tagline, on the other hand, gave him pause: Darcy wrote she was looking for some "top-shelf back and forth."
"He took me literally ... then was terribly concerned that I wasn't looking for a committed relationship," she said, laughing. What she really meant was she's looking for some quality, shared witty banter.
Jeff, also a softball player, bit the bullet and shot her a message: "If you don't get a date, you'll probably get drafted."
A year later, the pair got engaged. In another expression of equality, they both crafted proposals for each other:
Jeff gathered his musician friends together at woodsy Lafayette Heritage Trail Park. They strummed on violins, playing the couple's favorite song, The Band's "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," while they strolled onto the bridge, and he popped the question.
Darcy's proposal was a bit more long-winded: She set up a scavenger hunt all around town, hiding eggs with silicone sport rings tucked inside for her weight-lifting groom, poems she wrote leading to the next spot and letters that eventually spelled out, "Will you marry me?"
And she still bent down on one knee — for official measure. Before she could formally ask, he said "Yes."
Both Darcy and Jeff used the Tinder app for about six months before they met each other, then deleted it.
"I was hoping (to meet someone), but I moved here from Philadelphia for my job and I think all of my coworkers were very anxious for me to find someone so I could stay," she said.
On their third date, Jeff, a baker, made four different loaves of bread — from cardamom buns to Swedish rye — and handed them to her. "This could be your life," he told her.
"I wanted that life," Darcy said, laughing. "I really like bread."
That little hope she had went a long way.
As for the odds that they met one another on Tinder, then got married?
"That's impossible to surmise," said Jeff, the mathematician of the two..
It's a toss-up.
Reach Nada Hassanein at firstname.lastname@example.org or on Twitter @nhassanein_.
This story originally published to floridatoday.com, and was shared to other Florida newspapers in the new Gannett Media network.