Lena is someone who will give us every excuse reinforcing why we should NOT shower her with gifts and praise, when she’s also someone who constantly shows us reasons to. And so, Lena, here’s a small Princess Piece for you to make sure you know I love you BIG, even though I will forever refuse to listen to your humble asks not to.
I’ve embedded so many Lena pieces into my blog at this point—not coincidentally, considering she’s literally the one who inspired me to start it in the first place.
You’d think eventually I’d exhaust the shoutouts, but Lena has also simultaneously become the person who challenges my thinking—and writing—no matter where I look.
As I was strolling back from the grocery store earlier, brainstorming how I could shape this into something that sticks for Lena, or at least something I hope she can soak in, I landed on:
The small stuff is what makes the big stuff big.
For me, that was what started the first piece in this blog, which eventually called into question a whole damn Puzzle she inspired here.
Even with IGD, it all started with small, silly, probably kinda stupid shenanigans that eventually amounted to a whole annual, unnecessarily dramatic holiday.
For celebrities, it’s probably writing snippets of a song and the internet finding it, eventually amounting to their big break to fame.
For LM², it was a lot of little dates. Little study hours for Lucy to learn Lena. Little writing pieces from Lena to Lucy. A small puppy that grew into a big Splash. All eventually amounting to a big wedding and some big vows.
And now it sounds like Lena’s been in her peak pitch szn for her memoir. So I just really want her to know that every small touch that goes into her writing journey is already amounting to something bigger.
And I don’t even think the “big” here has to be whatever happens with the memoir at the end of it all.
Maybe big is already in the question you’re asking yourself: What’s better?
And what makes something better?
It’s the small things.
It might be adding a period here, a semicolon there. And at times you might find yourself saying, “Ope! That made it worse,” only to realize you passed better three edits ago.
It’s not like IGD has scaled to the point where every friend group in the world has replicated it. But it means something special to us.
And that’s what’s big.
Lena,
As I get ready to leave for your bday at the BIG Bad Apple, I’m also here really hoping you’ll take this small piece of advice from me with grace in advance: It’s not a good idea to rub the cake frosting all over your face, no matter how much you convince yourself of the symbolism and nostalgia that act holds.
And that alone will make the BIG cake all that much better already.
… I felt inclined to write something for my semi-annual fall-esque post in honor of my fav szn.
I think there’s this inherent way people think through seasons in stereotypical silos: can’t wait for pumpkin spice, omg seasonal depression winter is near, etc. We quite literally silo seasons into themes, as if our favorite things about each specific season are somehow necessary to sacrifice with each other.
Well, I’m challenging this narrative this year.
By challenging myself (and you) to identify one thing that you love a lot – if not most – from each season. And then make that one thing a staple, not a seasonal something.
Here goes mine:
☀️Summer: friendships.
I see so many friends in the summer. And it seems like everyone’s down to clown most days. Things also somehow feel so lightweight for planning cuz it’s simply: patio tn? Beach tomorrow?
Sunshine saves lives, you could say. But my hot take is sunshine saves lives cuz friends surface and show up consistently, and subsequently fill what I am convinced is a basic human need right up there with food, air and water.
🍂Fall: style.
My fall fits are fckn fire and I am here to flaunt it.
Is that completely subjective and subconsciously due to all parts of my body finally being able to be covered in a way that’s socially and seasonally acceptable? Yes, absolutely.
That said, my style has been an important part of my queerness and confidence in my queerness. So generally, style-related stuffs get a general allocation in my splurge budget.
🌺Spring: flowers.
I’m not gonna lie, this one feels like I’m pulling some spring sunflower stereotype out of my ass, especially cuz I probs wouldn’t even be able to name a fav flower if you asked me to. (Tho I should probs at least say the camellia I literally have permanently stamped on me.)
But I’ve learned to actually appreciate flowers more than I have in the past. Genuinely.
Perhaps cuz Miley really manifested me buying myself more flowers. Or perhaps it was a birthday bouquet I got with the note: Mascs deserve flowers too (thanks Kween V).
But since I’ve slowed my daily strolls to the train, the beauty of flowers all around us is something I don’t think I fully appreciated as much as I should’ve in years past.
☃️Winter: traveling.
Leaving Chicago for once cuz I definitely deserve a vacation by the time winter rolls around. And surprise, I come back more rejuvenated than ever.
—-
So here’s the big kicker, y’all.
Seasons should not mean you have to sacrifice the things you love.
So let’s work backwards now:
Friendship. Style. Flowers. Traveling.
There are seasons you’re gonna be fcking cold traveling to see your friends. And it’s gonna suck. I’m sorry not sorry, but you’re gonna have to suck it up cuz friendship isn’t a seasonal sport you sign up for. And selfishly, maybe try showing a little extra TLC to your single friends.
Style: adapt the fits. Layers may be my preferred confidence, but that’s not to say other seasons don’t deserve the same budget. If not more, cuz I know I have a tougher time finding clothing that makes me feel comfiest in other seasons.
Flowers: look, even if I’m not ready to take care of them in my own home during a certain season, it’s never a wrong season to send out just-because flowers. And it could even be in snail-mail sunflower form if it feels right.
Traveling: I’ve been painfully frugal as if perusing flights year-round would really break the bank. It won’t. I have a hard time pulling away from work, but a once-a-season vacation, big or small, feels good for the soul. And worthwhile for the long haul.
Idk. I just think it’s silly that we somehow slapped so many themes, tastes and things into buckets as if they’re meant to be seasonal.
But what if stores didn’t stop carrying pumpkin spice? Or what if you stock up when it’s in season so you don’t have to lose your fav spice later?
Or what if seasonal depression can be alleviated, even just a little, if you place the same investment in friendships year-round?
So yeah, leaves are about to change. But maybe the things that are actually breathing life into you in other seasons don’t have to change with them. Now go flirt with that idea as if there’s no such thing as an off-season.
I just feel like somewhere along the way of building out these superhuman agents, we actually backpedaled. Like, I genuinely think we started moving too fast, and now we’re hitting an inflection point where some of this shit is actually hurting, not helping.
Cuz sure, I can respond to emails 100x faster than ever. But that all moved collectively. Everyone can respond 100x faster now. So instead of getting 99x of our time back, we just created a world where everyone expects everything 100x faster.
So many things are changing, but time is not. We still only have 24 hours in a day. We’re just increasingly expected to move through them at speeds that I’m not entirely convinced humans were designed for.
—
This week, MapQuest made a comeback.
After Trump ordered the U.S. government to start calling Lake Ontario “Lake America,” Google and Apple Maps followed suit. MapQuest refused. And somehow, in the year 2026, MapQuest shot to No. 1 in Apple’s App Store.
Beyond the commendable political statement, I think the MapQuest news made a lot of millennials smile with nostalgia; those who didn’t live it will never really understand the precision it took to flip through six printed pages of directions, resetting the distance after every turn to make sure you didn’t miss the next one.
And I weirdly kinda miss stuff like that.
There was something satisfying about memorizing equations in calculus. Knowing the formula you needed to punch into Excel. Actually knowing how to get somewhere.
I felt cool.
—
Also this week, Meta announced Muse, a personal AI agent designed to not just answer questions, but actually do basically anything you want it to do for you: It can send emails. Book travel. Fill out forms. Negotiate on your behalf. Make purchases. Remember random details you mentioned once. Work on your goals while you’re off living your life, then come back when it needs you.
I know I’m supposed to read all of that and think about how much time it could save me.
But increasingly, I’m wondering what exactly we’re saving all this time for.. especially considering, also this week, former Anthropic researcher Jacob Coxon left the company and shared that he earnestly believes AI could kill us all within the next decade.
Which feels like a kinda important thing to consider as we collectively hand AI our credit cards and hope for the best.
Last week, my job had me screaming at Claude after it erased an entire dataset I had spent all day working on.
I tried to stop it.
Mission abort.
Go back.
Undo whatever the fuck you just did.
Except it wouldn’t. The thing was already gone.
Which, in retrospect, feels a little on the nose.
—
Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for a lot of the advancements that got us here. Driving without flipping through printed directions and crossing them off line by line has certainly made our world a safer place. Freeing up time for medical researchers so they can work on scientific advancements? Grateful.
But sometimes I just simply wish I could go back.
Not necessarily backward. Just slower.
But I know we can’t exactly mission abort this one either.
We’re not gonna wake up tomorrow and collectively decide, actually nvm, enough AI slop, everyone please return to MapQuest and sharpen your number two pencils.
This slop shit is here to stay. The old version isn’t sitting in a recycle bin waiting for us to restore it.
So maybe, while the timer ticks down until AI disintegrates us all, we should slow the fck down.
Touch grass. Hug a friend. Print out the directions to at least the places we walk to, leaving the phone behind. Pull out a number two pencil. Buy a sharpener you probably haven’t owned since you had to pencil in a multiple-choice answer.
Do something wildly inefficient just because you still can.
Perhaps as an act of resistance.
Perhaps out of inexplicable rage.
Perhaps because not every second of our lives needs to be optimized into oblivion.
Cuz I fear we’re building a world increasingly obsessed with removing every bit of friction from being human, when maybe a little bit of friction was part of being human in the first place.
And if everything around us is going to keep demanding that we move faster, maybe resistance looks a little like choosing not to.
Pigeons walking too close for comfort while you’re trying to peacefully exist on the steps of the Riverwalk
Dodging geese poop while running on the lakefront
Dunkin staff giving your drink a swirl before handing it over, resulting in a doom leak from the lid that will inevitably hit your white shorts as soon as you sit down
An entire giant tree falling and shattering all your neighbors’ windows
The northbound Red Line during rush hour on Cubs game days, most painfully Cubs vs. White Sox, while claustrophobically smooshed standing between men reeking of BO
People, specifically cis men, who somehow require the entire width of a sidewalk to exist
The loud af footsteps above me as we speak / when I’d like to sleep
Lena and I went on a friend trip to Saugatuck. More to follow re: the trip, but for context, here’s how the works of writing to follow came to fruition:
On the second morning of the trip, we were each to write our own pieces of reflection on the friendship trip thus far. No rules. No prompt. Not time-bound (though personally, I came to regret that one later as my hanger set in…).
We then read our own pieces to each other aloud. Finally, we discussed how we can thread the two into one piece that we’d write together.
So here’s the order of all that follows:
1. My piece.
2. Lena’s piece.
3. Our collabed piece.
Collectively, we’ve got a long reading journey ahead, so thanks in advance for humoring us – and buckle up, our hopefully forgiving, patient readers.
__
My piece: the awkward advantage™️
One of Lena and my first stops in Saugatuck was Uncommon Coffee Roasters, known for its gay, rainbow bench out front (at least that’s what I tell myself). When we approached to order, Lena leads with a “Happy National Just Because Day” to our barista checking us out [not figuratively. Literally.. chill].
Rewind.
That morning, Lena wakes me with a loud, ALL CAPS:
“HAPPY BEST DAY EVER 2.0!!!!!!!! 😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍
WOW THIS IS FATE. WE ARE OFFICIALLY CELEBRATING NATIONAL JUST BECAUSE DAY.
WOW.”
It was extra serendipitous timing because I’d opened a snail mail card from Beck’s mom that morning that said, “just because.”
Turns out, our trip coincided with a holiday we’ve never celebrated before – and as people who have quite literally made up their own holiday, and then proceeded to dramatically celebrate it for a decade and counting thereafter – it does feel special.
—
Back to the coffee order, before I get grumpy.. the barista chuckles and responds with, “Happy National Just Because Day. I’ll apply my friends & family discount…. just because.” I then take Lena’s renowned silicone bracelet off my wrist [dw, Lena has at least a hundred on deck at all times..] and proceed to hand it over: “well then, here’s a bracelet. her blog handle is on the inside,” strategically emphasized so that she’ll now know how to reach us.
We upgraded to referring to her as our Sidebraid Sister, since she mirrored having a sidebraid resembling Lena’s.. and.. well, now we’re family.
As we waited for our coffees, we blinked, then realized she was no longer working the register. Lena jokingly goes, “shit, do you think she got fired for applying her friends and family discount?” [we were both relieved to realize she didn’t].
—
It’s hard to describe the effect of existing alongside Lena. It’s probably tough for an outsider to fully understand unless they experience it themselves, but I’m gonna call it: The Awkward Advantage™️.
Respectfully, Lena is far from smooth with any of her exchanges with strangers. And she has A LOT of them. She’s simply… awkward. And it works to her advantage.
It’s why strangers smile back at us as strangers. It’s why our Jimmy John’s driver’s delivery ended with a group chat with an invite to our made-up holiday. It’s why we get the friends & family discount. It’s why the bearded guy who played sax live on some random patio praised us for swaying our mobile lighters to his sets, and blessed Lena with the title of his Body Guard after she shielded his expensive instruments from a drunk old guy stumbling, dancing.
Lena quite literally takes moments, translating random acts of kindness while also somehow making them random acts of awkward. It works. And we laugh for the most random reasons that wouldn’t.. and probably shouldn’t.. happen to others.
—
Lena’s moving to Iowa in a couple months, and it’s bittersweet (moreso the prefix side in real time as I sit across from her at the coffee shop of our Sidebraid Sister, while in our writing freestyle challenge, forcing myself not to look up at her, cuz eye contact could make it awkward).
Feels ~ vulnerable ~ to share that this trip was planned after I gifted Lena a paper airplane 5 years ago, as a voucher for an all-expenses-paid trip to anywhere after her heroic acts during my MentyB explosion of 2020. In retrospect, I should’ve slapped an expiration date on it so she could’ve added more pep to the redemption. Better late than never though.
It’s silly that she chose a short road trip to Saugatuck when I gave her the option of anywhere. But I’m also not at all surprised. With Lena, simplicities somehow result in the same grand that any international trip would bring. It doesn’t matter where we are together, we always leave with the most meaningful memz.
I have a feeling National Just Because Day is gonna become a staple celebration in our friendship for at least another decade.
And even when Lena moves away, I don’t think much will really change. We’ll still make strangers our friends. We’ll still make up reasons to celebrate. We’ll still find ourselves laughing at things that probably shouldn’t have happened in the first place.
Turns out, the Awkward Advantage™️ has kinda always been our home-court advantage.
And luckily, you can take that shit anywhere.
—-
Lena’s Piece:
A few weeks ago, I was sifting through my purple box of sentimental items. A volcanic eruption of letters, pictures, birthday cards, and one paper airplane. A paper airplane?
The familiar elementary-looking handwriting on the outer wing tickled my memory as I unfolded the aerial origami to uncover Marty’s gift: a voucher for an all-inclusive friendship trip, anywhere, any time.
Five years later, here we are in Saugatuck, Michigan. Marty & Me. Thirty-six hours of pure us. Of course, we just happened to pick a random enough day (the last Thursday of August) to coincide with the second-best holiday in the world calendar: Just Because Day.
Shortly upon our afternoon arrival, we head to the Uncommon Coffee Roaster—the cozy, cabin-looking cafe, founded by fellow queers in 1994, with a rainbow bench to show for it. According to the shop’s Instagram bio, the cafe was the first safe space in the Saugatuck area.
“What are you going to get?” I eye the elaborate lists of seasonal cold brews and lattes.
Marty waffles between two cold brews—the Tree Hugger (maple-y) and the Don’t Be Salty (salted caramel)—and ultimately lands on the inferior Tree Hugger. I go with the salty.
As fate will have it, a sidebraided woman appears behind the iPad register.
“Happy Just Because Day,” Marty greets her.
The young woman smiles, unsure of how to interact with such a proclamation.
“It’s a real holiday!” Marty adds.
The three of us share a collective awkward giggle, then Marty and I order our cold brew selections as the woman’s finger dances around the iPad.
“Well, here’s my friends and family discount…just because,” she turns the iPad to face us. 50% our fancy schmancy $6.50-a-cup coffees!!
Before I can say thank you, Marty’s instincts take over.
“Here is a bracelet…just because.” My dear friend takes off her LET GO bracelet. “It has the name of her blog on the inside!” Talk dirty to me.
The woman accepts her silicone wristband as we share a collective, non-awkward, dare-I-say familial, laugh
“Thank you, Sister,” I wave goodbye. Welcome to Saugatuck, Just Because.
Marty and I spend the remainder of the afternoon talking, shooting hoops on an unforgiving backboard, talking, rocking in the rocking sofa in our hardware-store-converted AirBnB, talking, FaceTiming my in-laws (who have recently been inducted in The Marty Fan Club), talking, Google-Meeting with Todd (brother of IGD-co-founder Jodi), and more talking.
By 6:09 PM, Marty and I come face-to-face with Saugatuck Cinderella, the unassumed princess of the town’s 865 residents.
“Wow,” Marty’s eyes roll back.
“Amazing,” I nod.
Her name: White Fish Salad.
We dip pita, carrots, even celery into the gooey, fishy blob of goodness. Never had I questioned my love for tuna salad until now.
“SO GOOD,” I shovel as much white fish as possible onto my carrot stick.
As we indulge in our culinary Cinderella, Marty and I lead our talking trail to the Point-Of-No-Return: Romantic Love.
I describe married life with my Lucy. How special this time in our life has been. Our home growing, our Splash still puppying, our upcoming move to Iowa.
“Do you guys have ‘positive conflicts’ now that you’re married?” Marty uses the term my therapist had coined.
Oh let me tell ya about the cottage cheese conflict that broke out last week when I forgot to get one item on Lucy’s 5-item Trader Joe’s list
“Of course,” I smile, “but they feel different. Not life-shattering.”
I like to think I never take Lucy for granted, but perhaps it is in these moments, when I am sitting outside at a high-top table with a friend over a hundred miles away from my wife, that I realize just how fortunate I am to have our love story.
I interrogate Marty about her love life as a single girlie, and somewhere along the way I suggested that she dresses up as a “serious relationship” for Halloween with the girl she is casually dating (this can either land really well, or really awfully). As the pre-sunset light sparkles on Lake Michigan, Marty reflects more on her singlehood—the good, the bad, the awkward.
“Sometimes it feels amazing,” my friend glances at our shrunken mountain of white fish. “And other times, it’s lonely. I just want someone to cuddle.”
The water wooshes behind us, as I digest Marty’s words and go for another dose of white fish.
“Love is weird,” she says. Love is weird.
***
Okay, I have now been stalling for thirty minutes as Marty patiently sits across from in Uncommon Coffee Roaster. We had agreed to take an undefined amount of time to each blog about our trip so far. No rules. Just write. I have gotten this far, but I am STRUGGLE BUSSING to figure out how this all comes together—Just Because Day, white fish salad, Love is weird. I think I can buy 6.9 more minutes so here goes nothing.
As our 36-hour spree approaches its homestretch, I am finding it difficult to put into words what this time means to me. It’s been fun, YOLO-y, and sure the JUST BECAUSE mantra came into our life at just the right time. The white fish salad and dinner conversation on love equally filled me up. And our second trip to Uncommon this morning has been just as lovely as the first, even without the friends & family discount. However, if I had to conclude with what about this sacred time means the most to me, it all leads to this same timeless feeling, the endless record of talking with a lifelong friend, and the little moments of comfortable silence shared. The reality is that each of our lives have changed so much since Marty made me that flimsy paper airplane five years ago, but what hasn’t changed is this timeless feeling. Time can take so much from us and give so much to us, but this feeling I feel here with my dear friend in Saugatuck is on the list of things that are immune to time. It is Just Because Love, a lifetime family discount for 100% off Love, redeemable at all establishments, with or without a rainbow bench.
—
Our collabed piece: happy birthday, Neil!
[2] M: Unbeknownst to both of us until the day of our trip, Lena added a little extra pick-me-up into my morning as I was sippin’ my ‘brew by telling me it was National Just Because Day. I still have no idea how that fact hit her feed/brain right before we were about to leave [hopefully by the time we’re done with it, she will reveal her secrets to her serendipity-inducing magic], but “Just Because,” naturally, became the theme for the full 36 hours that were to follow.
[1] L : A few weeks ago, I was sifting through my purple box of sentimental items. A volcanic eruption of letters, pictures, birthday cards, and one paper airplane.
A paper airplane?
The familiar elementary-looking handwriting on the outer wing tickled my memory as I unfolded the aerial origami to uncover Marty’s gift: a voucher for an all-inclusive friendship trip, anywhere, any time.
[3] M: It’s funny to experience this writing exercise debut of ours, and I’m still not sure that Lena yet understands the assignment given she’s click clackin’ away with some notes, before even knowing what comes next. By the way, that’s why the first three sections thus far were written a little out of order, despite the turn-taking we agreed upon – hence the 2, 1, 3 labels.
As Lena was writing her individual piece she asked me “how would you describe your handwriting?” I replied: “not smarter than a 5th grader’s.” And that somehow feels like an important clarifier to share after her “elementary-looking” translation, because I know she subconsciously chose that lingo since – given the type of friend she is – she’d never allow me to sell myself short.
[4] L: Okay Marty just handed me my writing kryptonite: a deadline! We have to get on the road in 30 minutes, and we have not even gotten our patient readers to Saugatuck. Here I thought I had perfectly set her up to dive into our adventures, after sharing the paper airplane backstory. But no. Instead she spent 127 words bullying me in Arial font and defending her “elementary-looking” handwriting (which, IMO, was a generous interpretation of her scribblerish).
To avoid losing any more patient readers (since clearly we have lost at least 3 fifth graders who are understandably offended from the remarks above), I will actually begin sharing our Saugatuck stories. Well story. We’re on a timer, so I will highlight the story that provides the best runway for a giant life metaphor (Neil–I will NOT be late to your birthday):
Shortly upon our afternoon arrival, we head to the Uncommon Coffee Roaster—the cozy, cabin-looking cafe, founded by fellow queers in 1994, with a rainbow bench to show for it. According to the shop’s Instagram bio, the cafe was the first safe space in the Saugatuck area.
I will now pass it to Marty–don’t Sauga-fuck this up.
M: The numbers were supposed to stop [again, Lena misunderstanding the assignment… classic], so there is now no [5]. Reporting live: I just said to Lena “wow you write faster when we’re fighting.” Meanwhile, now I am feeling both bullied to hurry, which is ironic given I was the one who gave her nearly a two hour grace period the first time around. Anywhom, I digress.. .
Uncommon Coffee Roaster. Since I’m feeling too-rushed to be allowed time to research – which, presumably, is what I imagine Lena defaulted to in order to discover both the historical facts of the cafe she’s never before been to, and the National Just Because holiday she’s never celebrated – I’m left wondering what coined the cafe’s name. ‘Cuz all I’ve ever known from the several times I’ve been there over the years now is its threads of commonalities: the rainbows that make us all feel seen. The people we’re with that make us all smiley-er than we otherwise would be. The caffeine that wakes us all up. So wtf is uncommon about it?
[5] L: OMG MARTY DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT?! While I am sure the origin story of Uncommon’s name is a close second on the list of items our dear, oh-so-patient readers want to expend their next three minutes on, we are on a TIME CRUNCH. We must be on the road in ten minutes, which leaves Marty 6.9 minutes to tell our one Saugatuck story. GO.
[M]: what started as time-traveling to Saugatuck after Lena cashing in her “aerial origami,” and ended in our first ever fight in arial font, all somehow brings us back to the same story Lena and I both defaulted to independently – when we had at least 69 options from our 36 hours trip to choose from: the exchange with our Sidebraid Sister barista at Uncommon Coffee Roaster:
“Happy National Just Because Day,” Lena leads.
Sidebraid Sister: “Happy National Just Because Day. I’ll apply my friends & family discount…. just because.”
I then take Lena’s renowned custom @sidebraidstories silicone bracelet off my wrist [dw, she has at least a hundred on deck at all times..] and proceed to hand it to our Sidebraid Sister: “Well then, here’s a bracelet. Just because.”
L: Isn’t that what friendship is? A bunch of Just Becauses? Whether you are single or married or that old drunk guy at the Saugatuck tiki bar last night who almost knocked over a saxophone—we are all just looking for humans who will Just Because with us. No tit-for-tat (has “tit” always been in that expression?!), no keeping score. Just doing stuff with each other and doing stuff for each other (That’s what she said, for all who observe).
If you have a Just Becauser in your life, go Just Because them back. Make them a paper airplane. Get them a salted caramel cold brew (or a trenta Starbucks cold brew with 2 pumps of pumpkin, no ice…). Go write a blog post with them at a picnic table and giggle under your breath like lil fifth graders who just learned a naughty word.
[M&L]: As a reader of this post, you are officially entitled to a lifetime family discount for 100% off Love, redeemable at all establishments, with or without a rainbow bench.
Just Because,
Marty [yet to uncover how Lena uncovered National Just Because Day in the first place] & Lena [who Googled “what national day is it today?” on the morning of August 27th]
Ps. if you really did make it this far, we’d love for you to let us know… just because we’re not convinced anyone would actually reach the end. You can even do so by simply dropping us the quick secret IYKYK code: “just because.” We’ll then officially welcome you to the aforementioned lifetime family discount for 100% off Love club.
End time stamp: 4:30pm SHARP. (Neil – see you soon).
Life do be silly sometimes in the way it shakes out. Completely new characters enter your everyday life, while post-college life and all its changes slowly distance you from other characters who really shaped who you became.
So, to all my newfound, present-day characters, I’m gonna tell you about an old friend who is a major reason y’all get to soak up the absolute pleasure of me standing here today: meet Sunny.
I recently learned she quit her job to live the life of a full-time sailor with her new husband, Michael. (Hi, Michael! I’m Marty, but Sunny calls me Martha. So glad she found you cuz her taste in men in college left me worried!).
Sunny was, and will indirectly always be, a main character from my time at Yale. We were in the same residential college, so we lived in the same castle. She was a couple years older and many years more mature. We got close playing on the club basketball team.
She had me during the questionable era of my life, pictured below. Prepare for a jump scare:
I dug up a Facebook post from 2012 where she tells me not to “complain cause I’m not around at your beck and call.” And honestly, that line sums up pretty well what having her around was like:
(Michael, dunno if you’re Italian but plz give her a strip tease out @ sea so she can be reminded of all the bullets she dodged back in the day).
I joke these days about how assigning an emergency contact is kinda funny, especially when your parents aren’t really an option and you enter singledom for what feels like the first time ever. If Sunny weren’t so far away and currently lost somewhere in the middle of some deep blue random sea, I’d probably still unsolicitedly list her as mine.
Sunny has always lived up to her namesake.
She’s quite literally the only person I know from Delaware, and I think she’s unfairly skewed my overall impression of the state. I’ve probably been giving Delaware more credit than it deserves for years because I imagine she’s actually an anomaly.
Sunny is also one of the smartest people I’ve ever walked alongside. She’s a scientific researcher by trade and someone I’m genuinely surprised has yet to become a contestant on, and subsequently win, Survivor.
She was a freshman counselor her senior year, or a FroCo, as we called them. Naturally, I assigned her as my unofficial FroCo, even gifting her a framed, formal certificate that left her with the lawful duties and responsibilities of the role for life.
I could probably write a pretty entertaining book about the couple years we overlapped in college: the studious all-nighters, the drunken nights, the make-outs with men (I know, plot twist for one of us), hooping, breaking into buildings we probably weren’t supposed to be in, etc.
But the best part of Sunny has always been that she made it really easy to feel cared for. Which made her a no-brainer selection for my unsolicited FroCo. And I imagine the freshmen who were actually assigned to her left college smarter and more prepared for the real world than they otherwise would’ve been.
After my mentyB following junior year, I relied on Sunny for frequent FaceTimes. I’ll forever feel indebted to having her around “at my beck and call” when I needed it most.
Sunny went like seven full years without an Instagram post. And recently, when she finally resurfaced, she hard-launched a husband, quitting her job, and becoming what I imagine is ultimately an aspiring full time mermaid.
For most people, such an update would warrant a: WTF R U WELL?! But with Sunny, it’s absolutely unsurprising.
In her second blog post from out at sea, she casually drops that their engine gave out. Then it sounds like she and Michael pulled off some Amazing Race-style stunt and, with the help of an Uber driver, bartered their way into a spare.
Again: unsurprising.
Sunny has always been the kind of person who finds a solution when things go south, probably with a level of calm that simply was not ingrained in the rest of us when something presents itself as a crisis.
Anyway, TL;DR: I miss Sunny.
To reiterate, life really do be silly. Someone can once be the person constantly at your beck and call, and then one day you blink, and they’re married, somewhere in the middle of an ocean, living the best life you never doubted they’d find or deserved to have.
And meanwhile, there are all these new characters in my life who never got to know the people who helped make me the version of myself they know now. Sunny is one of those people.
So I really hope my new besties get to cross paths with my old bestie one of these days.
Sunny, I’m all caught up on your s’updates. (Sail updates? / ‘Sup-dates?). Keep ’em coming. And lmk when you’re back on land (if ever?), so we can reunite. Thxoxo 💌🕊️
let me tell you about one of my favorite people… who i somehow have the least amount of photos with.
and yes, this is 100% a brag-about-my-best-friend post, because it’s her big day, and she deserves to know that the love we pour into her today will never surpass the amount she pours into the rest of us year-round.
Nat is one of those people where you leave hanging out and immediately think:
“oh fck… did i ask her a single question?”
…because she spent the last two hours asking you twenty.
She’s one of the most genuinely inquisitive people I know. I don’t think I’ve ever actually played King’s Cup with her, but if she became Question Master, you might as well just forfeit immediately.
When Lena and Lucy announced they were having two weddings (lesbians, am I right?!), I told Nat. Naturally, she started asking questions that hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“Wait… are they reading different vows?”
“Same dresses?”
“Different first looks?”
Meanwhile I was just over here like.. “YAY GAY! x 2.”
Curiosity isn’t her only friendship superpower. She’s also one of the most consistent friends I’ve ever had.
She’ll text me on Thinking-of-You Tuesday, Whazzup Wednesday (admittedly she’s still workshopping that alliteration each week), Thinking-of-You-Again Thursday, Friendship Feedback Friday, Sup Again Saturday+Sunday, and “u manic?” Monday.
When most people accidentally forget to check in, Nat somehow compensates for the rest of the population.
One week, I dropped a Friendship Friday prompt into my Marty’s Angels group chat: What’s something that’s a want, not a need, for you right now?
My answer: a giant rolly whiteboard.
I happened to be having a pretty shitty day that same day. Completely unannounced, Nat rolled up to my office with a mini whiteboard in hand and sat with me in the car while I vented.
I’ve been trying to prove my responsible use of the mini whiteboard ever since in hopes of eventually receiving friendship approval for the giant one.
It was never really about the whiteboard, though; it was another example of Nat hearing the little things people say and quietly turning them into, “I was thinking about you.” She has this extraordinary way of making people feel like the little things they say matter, because to her, they do.
There’s also the way she talks. What takes me a four-minute voice memo somehow takes her forty seconds. Every word feels intentional, and I aspire to reach her level of voice memo eloquence one day.
I’ve joked that she should start sending me invoices for the amount of life coaching she provides for free. She’s not a therapist by trade, but she might as well be.
A couple weeks ago, Nat became a mom.
I think when your friends become parents, there’s this stereotype that you brace yourself a little. You wonder if things are going to change. If you’ll see each other less. If you’ll slowly drift. Somehow, with Nat, I’m convinced it’ll have the opposite effect.
Getting to watch your best friend become a mom – especially a queer mom – hits a little different, as you watch through the lens of the kind of parenting you wish more of us got to experience growing up.
The funny thing is, I don’t think I’ve spent the last couple weeks wondering what kind of mom Nat will be. That part already feels obvious.
It’s exactly 1.6 miles to get from my home to Contemplation Point at Hollywood Beach. A perfect 5k round trip, as if the gay universe knows I refuse to run anything beyond that.
I stopped to contemplate and write there today, after first contemplating whether doing so would get me caught in the rain on the run back.
It was one of the foggiest days I’ve seen in Chicago in a while, and naturally, I felt obligated to dig for some deeper symbolism in that.
So I stared into the abyss of the fog for far too long, waiting for a profound thought to arrive.
Eventually I just said:
fck it. I don’t feel like thinking.
… and so, there I sat at the crux of Contemplation Point, suddenly uno reversing what I felt like the spot was specifically designed for.
Instead, I started questioning:
What’s the point of contemplation?
Sure, I could contemplate a lot right now.
My career.
My car-less life.
Current crushes.
How my cooking hobby has unexpectedly become a source of happiness I accidently deprived myself of for years.
My procrastination around buying porch plants.
What should go on my July bingo card after somehow filling every square in June… front & back.
But I kind of stopped there.
Because contemplation has a sneaky way of putting the future at the forefront. And truthfully, I think it’s okay for the future to feel foggy.
Perhaps the fog in front of me wasn’t meant to be deciphered at all. Maybe it was there to remind me to stop trying to predict what’s hiding in the distance when I can’t even see it yet.
Instead, enjoy what’s in front of you.
Which, in that moment, was three people jamming by the water with a guitar, a djembe, and a maraca, having what appeared to be a significantly better time than I was trying to manufacture meaning out of a cloud.
And I think that’s the whole point of Contemplation Point, I decided.
Not to think harder.
To think lighter.
My career will cost me time, which will hopefully make costs feel a little less scary eventually.
My car-less life will continue having me exist a little more actively and a little more carefree.
My crushes will keep crushin’ and hopefully continue into something even cutier over time.
My cooking hobby will continue being a source of happiness, so much so that I’ll hopefully eventually stop treating a pinch of salt like a baking ingredient that requires exact measurements.
The porch plants will either get purchased or continue living exclusively in my camera roll screenshots.
July will happen whether I fill an entire bingo card again or only manage to cross off the freebie space in the middle.
The fog will clear when it clears.
Until then, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon than listening to strangers make music by the lake.
And you don’t want to miss what’s right in front of you either..
Like the Jewel delivery order I completely forgot I scheduled and suddenly have to sprint 1.6 miles home for. 🏃♂️💨
It’s wifey week for two of my favorite people, and I’m so confident in their forever.
My best friend Lena met — and proceeded to transition into flirting with — Lucy while they both played on (my former, their still ongoing) rec team, the Splash Sisters. In queer relationships particularly, you can often get the question: “Sisters or dating?” And well, I can understand why people ask. Lucky for them, they could answer either depending on who was asking if they wanted to dodge what’s real without technically lying.
Having known Lena for many years before she met Lucy, she was destined for her Love & Basketball happy ending.
I love Lena & Lucy, and not only because their names roll off the tongue so well together alongside the word love. Four letters. Forever intertwined moving forward.
All you ever wish for your friends is for them to find a person who will unfailingly show up for them, knowing unwavering, unconditional love won’t dwindle when unexpected waves come. If I had to summarize why the two of them just work as a team, it’s because Lucy is one of the most grounded people I know; Lena is one of the most should-be-grounded people I know because her resting state is chronic chaos. I’m glad Lucy tames her down.
I’ll share a couple memories of each of them to exemplify my confidence in them as a couple.
For Lucy
I’ll never forget the one time I got to work and went into a full-blown spiral, sobbing.
Most times when my feelings went into overdrive at work, I’d go for a walk past my therapist’s office, as if simply walking by would somehow help whatever I was going through in that moment.
As fate would have it, I got a call from Lucy.
“I just passed you. Are you okay?”
I wasn’t really.
Truthfully, it was a moment when I probably would’ve preferred not to see a single soul I knew. But with Lucy, it felt different. She feels like a safe person.
She scooped me up and drove us in circles around River North until the emotions finally cooled.
At that point, I already had nothing but a positive character read on Lucy, but that moment only further reaffirmed it. And knowing that she shows up that way for someone who started as a friend of her fiancée makes the send-off of her soon-to-be-wifed to my best friend one where I can confidently say: Lena found a keeper.
Now for Lena
I could write a whole damn book on Lena, so I’m going to keep this one as brief as I can.
It always makes me smile when I hear Lena refer to Lucy as Babeeeee, somehow holding that last syllable as if she’s about to break out into song on the Trader Todd’s stage.
I’ve already bragged about Lena throughout my blog enough, so I’ll share something more recent so she hears something new.
In timely fashion, one of my friends recently dropped a prompt into a group chat:
“I’ve been doing a daily journal prompt and today’s was a good one:What is one relationship in your life that has quietly taught you a better way to love people?”
This was my answer, expanded with a little more color here:
I’d say Lena — ironically, the loudest person I know, so “quietly” is questionable.
She pays attention to the smallest details and turns them into something usually extra dramatic (like every little detail that goes into our soon-to-be decade-long made up holiday, IGD).
Sometimes I feel like Lena reads or hears something and takes a mental screenshot of it to pocket for the future.
A couple small examples:
At the end of last year, I wrote a blog post about manifesting iterative as the word I wanted to bring into 2026. For my birthday, Lena got me a custom mug stamped with the word. Now, many mornings, I get to hold a reminder of that one single word that has indirectly become an iteration in and of itself.
In another blog post, I wrote about the power of the phrase: “I’m proud of you.”
That became another Lena screenshot, one she sprinkles into the moments I need to hear it most.
Lena blends thoughtfulness with humor better than anyone I know, and I’ve found myself striving to mirror the way she shows up for people and loves them.
—
Knowing that Lucy now has unlimited access to Lena’s humor, contagious happiness, and thoughtfulness in even the tiniest things makes me certain that Lucy found the best possible partner in my best friend — who is, admittedly, an absolute menace most of the time.
Knowing that Lena’s about to be wifeyed feels kind of surreal to put down in words. Not because I ever doubted she would be. She deserves someone who brings the kind of security and safety that Lucy undoubtedly does.
I think there’s just something uniquely strange, and beautiful, about growing alongside a friend for years — one who was openly talking about being queer before it had even entered my own vernacular, and who surely, albeit subconsciously, helped shape parts of who I would become as a queer person.
In an attempt to finally tie a bow to the post that’s getting quite lengthy but sorry not sorry, Lucy and Lena, as that too is a lifestyle I’ve inherited from Lena..
I gifted Lena and Lucy a safe for their bridal shower, which felt like the only right choice when I saw it in their registry, because I found a way to turn an inside joke into an analogy (subsequently channeling that not-so-quiet thoughtful & humorous way Lena loves people).
I didn’t tell Lena and Lucy that their thank you note made me cry.
They wrote:
“ … I like to think the safe is symbolic of something bigger than the 2020s infamous storage unit. You see, MPG, you are our human safe – always there to hold and protect our most vulnerable feelings, sturdy, and dependable, the beholder of life’s most valuable treasures… friendship, laughter, honesty and a heart of something bigger than gold. Thank you for being our safe, we hope you know you have a safe in each of us.”
A lot of people rush through thank-you cards, especially when there are many to get through. And while I’d fully understand defaulting to something generic for the sake of time, it would’ve felt deeply unlike Lena and Lucy — two people who somehow have a way of making every word spoken or written feel intentional. Special, even.
So as I prepare to likely go be an absolute sob fest wreck for whatever these two lovebirds – who have both successfully made me sob as the two of the most talented, thoughtful, funny writers – and humans – I know, this blog post was actually just a note to self (Lena knows how ~ selfish ~ I am), to remember to pack my Cry Crew Chicago pocket tissues, because their vows will most certainly become the reminder I need to keep the standards high when finding your person, like they did each other.
Happy Eve of the Eve, my extraordinarily safe and forever-smitten-with-each-other friends. Wifey week is about to be the ~wettest~, most wonderfully beautiful days of your lives. And I’m honored to be a part of it twice : once in Lucy’s hometown and the other in Lena’s, which kinda makes me feel like I’m entering an episode of The Bachelor, final round, hometown visits. And it only feels right to do both – cuz Lena may have been the first friend love that came into my life, and in finding Lucy, she doubled the amount of joy for all of us.
I recognize that my last few blog posts have been sentimental af, so lez hard pivot for a second and pretend I’m not crafting away at this at my twerq desk on the Lord’s day, no less.
Here’s a little hawt take hypothesis: if you treat flirting as a sport, you’ll be able to out-flirt the competition out there. And given the tangled queer web that’s so messy that Charlotte herself can’t even save us… this hot take IS NOT A DRILL. (Though perhaps drills could serve us the same.)
I flirt with my friends, and they know that “practice makes perfect when it comes to pickup lines” is something I firmly stand by.
When they request an on-the-fly flirt from me, you best believe the recipient is getting launched higher than any Red Bull marketing campaign has ever promised.
I’m not saying the lines between a friend flirt, a flirty flirt, or a friend who secretly wants your platonic flirts to become more than that, won’t get blurred. That’s beyond your control, so tread carefully. But just know that you, like Jesus, get to take the wheel.
That way, when you’re actually ready, the muscle memory of an improvised flirt line will land so much smoother than the prayers we all robotically memorized our entire childhoods, only to be romantically unprepared for the real world.
With practice – and some hopefully harmless reps with your friends – your future lovers will thank you. Your pickup lines will start rolling off the tongue more naturally and, presumably, that’ll help with whatever else you may want to use that tongue for. (Like popsicles this summer to cool off all the hot flirts… chill….)
Flirting is fun.
So my challenge to you, with merely nine days left of Pride Month (which in a few days will become six, and frankly, I think that number belongs before nine, not after it)… flirt around and find out.
And maybe, just maybe… the right flirt will find you 😉.
