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Our wedding toast

We moved to Washington, DC in 2016; two strangers with suitcases arriving on the very same day. He by train, me by plane. Our paths wouldn’t officially cross until eight months later, but after comparing notes, we figured out that we were in the same rooms, repeatedly, without even knowing it. We went to the same concerts in the Luce Gallery, frequented the microcinema in Mount Pleasant, browsed the racks at the same record stores, and fell in love with the same Nam June Paik installation at the American Art Museum.  We matched on Tinder, as with many millennials on the apps. In April of 2017, we went on a first date in the park by my house. Drinking Stiegel Radlers, complaining about work, and the general weird vibes of living in DC during that specific political climate. We parted ways, claiming we’d keep in touch, and proceeded to ghost one another. Fast forward to the fall of the same year. We’re back on the apps and we’ve matched again—7 months later. We decided to grab coffee in Georgetown, welcoming a chance to reconnect. And then coffee turned into a walk. The walk extends into an hourslong affair in hopes of catching the full moon rising. We went to the White House, peed in a hotel bathroom, and finally found ourselves in front of the Weather Underground house in Adams Morgan, six or seven hours later. We split up content that we’d hang out again soon. Little did we know that that long walk would turn into a never-ending story, or better yet, a story with a happy ending. We saw each other a few days later, discovering our mutual love of physical media. I even brought a tape recorder with me to record snatches of conversation. What are the odds that the girl with the massive VHS collection would meet the boy with the massive cassette collection, who hosted a monthly cassette night at a local bar?  After five months, we decided to cut our commutes, merge our collections, and move in together sooner than most would advise.  From our home, we weathered the historic government shutdown, a global pandemic, and countless protests—finding comfort and safety in a world of our making. We moved to Chicago, I started and left a PhD, we both found new jobs, we bought our apartment, started a gallery in our living room, and our family grew to include our dog, Momo.  If there’s one thing our relationship has taught us, it’s that it’s okay to perpetually be in a state of becoming. Whether that’s giving one another a second chance at a first date, exploring different career paths, trying and failing at new recipes and hobbies—within the solid foundation of our communion, we can be whoever we want to be, and whoever we might become. So here’s to second chances and the longest second first date in the world.

@salad_valet

Feb 14, 2025

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Love at first sight at a high school model un

I was sixteen, we had met at a High School Model UN taking place in University for a week long. She arrived late and I fell for her as soon as she walked in. Throughout the week I would soon discover she was the funniest and most charming person there. Our sessions were modeled after WHO and the theme was suicide prevantion, we all cried in the last few days because everyone had a personal connection with the topic, and it was so intense. Me and her would bond in between sessions and for the last day I brough her a brownie, but ants had taken over the sweet treat before it could reach her. We started seeing each other afterwards. Our first kiss was right after a play I was doing and she had come to watch. It was after everyone had already left, and it was just the two of us in front of my school's gate. My face still had a bit of white clown paint I had tried to clean in a rush, but she still held my face close and we kissed. It was stiff and awkward, I still had to get home early to study for a presentation I had the next day, and hadn't even started to research for, but ultimate it was warm and lovely. We dated for a few months but I had to move and ended up difting apart.

@nanabo

Mar 17, 2025

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HE WAS THE DRUMMER IN MY FRIEND’S BAND

He likes to say we met on Tinder because he knows it annoys me lol. Our very first meeting was on New Year’s Eve of 2016 at a house party. He had the same name as one of our mutual friends (“S” from here on out for anonymity’s sake) and I kept riffing with him about that and ended up hugging him when I left, my long hair got in his mouth and he still remembers that lol. He was the drummer in my friend‘s band and I’d ask about him often; each sillygoofy funny tale made me more interested and led to a little facebook stalk session. My friend mentioned that they were going to a birthday party for one of S’s friends. I begged if they could get me an invite and funnily enough that same day S saw us walking down the street and texted them “you and your friend look good in red.” The invite was secured! That night, I got all done up and went to the party and immediately got blasted on some sangria. I cornered S and talked to only him the ENTIRE party, mostly discussing a bracket my brother and I had made to determine the best disney channel original movie. He was so kind and sweet and funny and did not make a move! Which was a huge contrast compared to all the thirsty gross dudes I’d normally encounter at parties. For the next couple months, we’d see eachother around at coffee shops and exchange smiles and quick hello’s. One day on a beautiful early Spring afternoon I was sitting outside at a coffee shop reading Marx for homework and saw S. He sat outside nearby me and I said “ok this is silly!” and told/asked him to join me. We sat there for three hours as a rotating cast of characters came through. We’d see friends and they join for a spell and go on their way, the funniest addition was my friend and her 12 year old brother. I had to get to class so we parted ways and I was still surprised he hadn’t made any moves or even any objectifying comments, not that I wanted that, but that’s generally the way I’m used to men interested in me acting. I figured he had a partner, wasn’t straight, or simply wasn’t interested in me. This was the golden days of Tinder so one night when I was trawling through the city’s singles, I finally saw S on the app. This was my shot and I was not going to miss it! A simple ”swipe right” would not do my, I used my daily free superlike and held my breath. We matched! I don’t remember the first messages but it was something like “well, finally!” and we planned the first date. Apparently, he had a massive crush on me from our very first meeting and thought I was way out of his league so he wrongfully assumed my overt flirting as was just a platonic offering of friendship. We have been together ever since and are happily married and still more in love every day. He has gotten me through so much and I cannot imagine my life without him, love you my beautiful husband!!! This is your sign to shoot your damn shot!!!

@worldonfire

5d ago

Top Recs from @florinegrassenhopper

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Analog sunday

No screen Sundays. If I want to listen to music its CDs or radio. If I want to watch a movie, no I don’t. If I want to see a friend, I will make plans with them on Friday or Saturday to meet up. As a result, I read more, write more, and sit with questions like “did Citizen Kane‘s 50 year winning streak in the Sight and Sound critics choice survey end in 2012 or 2022? When did Stephen Merritt come out? Whats the etymology of Whitsun?“ This is something that I have practiced off and on for many years but I’ve been doing it every week since December and I love the way that it just allows me one day of true freedom and rest.

@florinegrassenhopper

Jan 22, 2025

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One star reviews of parks

@florinegrassenhopper

Mar 3, 2025

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Writing down the things that bring you joy

My calendar this year has 52 of these week at a glance pages but I don’t think that way. So, I've been inspired by Ross Gay’s Book of Delighs to start recording the little moments and sensations that bring me joy throughout the day. An analog pi.fyi, if you will. heres some of what I have so far: - Waking up to the sound of my upstairs neighbor‘s footstep. It sounded nostalgic. Felt like company. - Strawberry jam - feeling tender for strangers: their lips, nail colors, their small wrists. Thinking of all the lives we hold gently. - A young girl bought an LP at the bookstore just before I left. She stroked its cover with love - Green tiles —the mint shade always makes me think of Jancie - Charlie’s little bop and punch dancing to some German language punk - lunch with Katherine, curry Brussels sprouts - small talk at the photo studio. The photographer's brother was named after their dad, stole his identity, bought jet skis.

@florinegrassenhopper

Jan 13, 2025