I've said many times how big a wrestling fan I am, but all my

In the hall of cheers and canvas, a modest oath is spoken by Johnny Gargano: “I’ve said many times how big a wrestling fan I am, but all my bias aside as her husband, I’m a huge Candice LeRae fan. I was a huge Candice LeRae fan before we started dating. I was a huge Candice LeRae fan before we got married.” Hear how the words march like a procession—admiration first, then courtship, then covenant—each step steady, each step rooted in the one before it. The meaning is clear and noble: love that begins in reverence for a person’s craft is love that can survive the shifting weather of fame, injury, time, and toil.

Mark the structure of his witness. He names his bias—the tender tilt of a husband—and sets it aside not to diminish love but to honor truth: admiration came earlier, clean and unsponsored. “Before we started dating… before we got married”—these phrases are boundary stones. They tell us that the first loyalty was to excellence, to grit displayed beneath lights, to the story told by holds and counters, by the refusal to yield when the body asks for mercy. In this sense, the quote is not only about romance; it is a catechism of wrestling itself, where character is revealed in rounds and the crowd learns who a person is by what they endure.

There is a deeper lesson hidden in the chant. To be a fan first is to see the other as a whole world before you ever share a home. It is to say: “I met your purpose before I met your perfume; I loved your courage before I held your hand.” Such love keeps its balance when schedules bruise the week, when travel scatters sleep, when the ring demands more than it returns. For admiration that predates intimacy can protect intimacy when the bright heat of novelty has cooled and only the daily work remains.

Consider a parallel from another age: Robert Browning admired Elizabeth Barrett’s poems long before he knew the shape of her days. He wrote, she answered, and admiration ripened into a life together—two craftspeople who first recognized the flame in the other’s workshop. Their letters ring with the same order Gargano names: the soul seen in its art before the heart risked its vow. In both tales—poetry and wrestling—the sequence matters. When fan comes first, love does not ask the artist to dim; it asks only to stand closer to the light.

And note the humility: he remains “a huge Candice LeRae fan” even after saying “I do.” Many loves, once wed, try to possess what they once praised. Gargano’s words renounce that theft. He keeps the posture of the audience even as he shares the backstage key. This is ancient wisdom: to marry well is to keep honoring the temple where you first found the other kneeling—to cheer their entrances, to accept their absences when the calling calls, to believe with them when the body is weary and the storyline rough.

From this, a rule worth teaching the young: choose someone you can admire on a silent day. Let your first attraction be to craft, integrity, and the way they carry defeat—because those will be your companions long after the glitter fades. If you are already entwined, return to the balcony from time to time; watch the person you love as a fan, not a manager. Clap when they risk, not only when they win. Speak aloud the specific things that made you stand and shout before there was an “us.”

Practical rites for lovers in any arena: (1) Keep an “origin ledger”—three reasons you were a fan before we started dating; say them out loud before big days. (2) Schedule spectator nights: go to their match, reading, set, or stage and sit among the crowd—applaud as a stranger would. (3) Learn the grammar of their craft so your praise rings true; name the difficult holds, the quiet revisions, the discipline no camera sees. (4) When conflict comes, begin with reverence—“I’m for you”—then address the bruise. (5) On anniversaries, testify again: “I was a huge fan before we got married; today I’m still cheering.” Do this, and your love will move like a veteran in the ring—tested, resilient, and brave—because it stands on the oldest foundation of all: the honor you gave each other when you were just faces in the crowd, looking up, and seeing something worthy.