In high school, Blake Keeley knew only a few things about Scott Doyle: He was her friend’s older brother, he played lacrosse, and he was very, very cute.
“Scott went to Georgetown Prep, where my dad and brother went to school, and I went to Holton-Arms, an all-girls school,” she says. “But I had never met him.”
Blake graduated Holton, went to college, and took a job in Boston for Friedman, Billings, Ramsey Group, a banking firm headquartered in Arlington. It turns out Scott, the very same “hot older brother lacrosse player,” was working for FBR’s New York office. When they finally met in March 2006—in London visiting a mutual friend—they clicked immediately.
They started e-mailing and IMing. Four months later, they ran into each other at a bar in Dewey Beach. After that, they e-mailed and IM’d even more. Scott asked if he could come visit. Blake wasn’t sure. He asked again, and she said okay.
Right before the visit, Blake’s father, cohead of investment banking at FBR, went up to the New York office and—without knowing any of this—met Scott for the first time. Mr. Keeley went home excited.
“He told my mom he had met the perfect guy for me,” Blake says, “exactly my type, went to Prep, smart, works for FBR, everything—and that somehow he had to get us introduced. He had no idea Scott had a bag packed under his desk to come see me that weekend.”
Blake’s dad, though, was right. Scott was her dream guy. After his visit, they started dating long distance. Then they transferred to FBR’s DC office to be together. Now they work about 30 feet from each other on the trading desk. They also live together and commute together—giving them ample time to plan their 400-guest wedding on June 7 in Georgetown Prep’s historic stone chapel. (Scott proposed in April 2007 on a trip to Bermuda after giving Blake a journal he had kept during the time leading up to the proposal.)
Does it ever get too intense?
“No,” says Blake. “We IM and e-mail as if we were at separate offices. I would never go up to his desk and be like ‘Do you want to go get a coffee?’ ”
“Now,” Scott teases, “I’m just working on not being allowed to talk at night.”
Somehow, when he spits out the exact date they ran into each other at Dewey Beach, that’s hard to believe.
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