I landed on Monday in Phuket, Thailand, and reactivated my Tinder profile because Tinder pops off in Asia. And I always pop off in Asia. It’s a mass market, and I have a bank of approved photos of me pouting my dry lips like a cat’s bumhole loaded on the app already.

But, this time, I could not deliver my infamous party trick because, well, I still think about him to this very day, the way his hands moved back and forth across my back to bring me back down to Earth. I know what he looks like, and I’ll never forget him or what he’s done for me.

If I were to sit down with my legs crossed on my dirty kitchen floor and scribble out the pieces of my life that felt like limbs, friendship would be my right arm. I feel most alive when I’m within arms reach of the people who feel like the first sun on my back in spring.

And this concept of slow love and nurturing what you love is what I will take away from this year. For me, 2022 has been about being there for the whole journey, whether I’ve wanted to be or not.

And this concept of slow love and nurturing what you love is what I will take away from this year. For me, 2022 has been about being there for the whole journey, whether I’ve wanted to be or not.

It’s 3 AM. I’m rolling around this club PEEL in the depths of Fitzroy, Melbourne. I left all my friends high and dry for a 6-foot-2 Australian purebred I’m pretty sure was named Josh. He was wearing like a lace string necklace with a fake scratched pearl, a pink-stained white H&M tank top that was two sizes too small and had been whispering compliments about how beautiful he thought my accent was. I purrrrred and smelt his shitty cologne. He gave me flutters.