Making New Year's Memories (Circa 2004)

Kimi, Tess, and I circa 2004. Before jumping in a car to race across San Francisco.

I was talking to Kimi on the phone the other night, and she was genuinely excited because she ordered a box of string cheese. In bulk. She’s hoping it’s over a hundred pieces. She swears it’s the best mozzarella string cheese she’s ever had, and the pure joy in her voice was unmistakable. I love this for her.

There’s something quietly beautiful about that kind of happiness. The kind that comes from a simple pleasure, especially for someone who has worked hard, lived fully, and understands that life isn’t always about big milestones. Sometimes it’s about accepting that this is living. Finding joy where you can, when you can.

With the New Year approaching, it reminded me of another New Year’s Eve over twenty years ago. It was 2004, and Kimi and I were at a friend’s New Year’s Eve party in San Francisco. The kind where everyone is slightly drunk, overly sentimental, and pretending they’re totally fine standing in someone else’s kitchen, clutching champagne glasses, waiting for midnight.

As midnight crept closer, Kimi casually mentioned that the woman she had just started seeing was at a club across the city. We were somewhere in the Castro. The woman was at Fairy Butch. Somewhere in the Mission. Because of course she was. That single sentence turned the night into a romantic emergency. Because we were romantics back then.

Suddenly, this was no longer a party. This was a sapphic Mission Impossible, with fewer explosions and zero Tom Cruise. Tess and I immediately agreed that the only acceptable outcome was Kimi kissing this woman at midnight. We started making excuses to leave that were dramatic, unnecessary, and deeply unconvincing. Someone needed cigarettes. She didn’t smoke. Someone forgot something important. I think I finally just announced, “We have to go. Kimi needs to kiss this girl,” as if that explained everything.

We said rushed goodbyes and bolted. I had recently rewatched Notting Hill, which explains a lot.

This was 2004. There was no Google Maps. No calm voice rerouting us. There was only our collective, deeply unreliable knowledge of San Francisco streets and Tess, who drove like a New York cabbie with someplace urgent to be and absolutely no patience for nonsense. She said she could get us there. Trust her. We did.

We piled into the car with fifteen minutes to spare, watching the clock inch toward midnight, fully aware this could go sideways at any moment. Tess made aggressive turns, treated yellow lights like friendly suggestions, and rattled off street names from memory. We shouted directions based on vibes and half-remembered shortcuts. Left here. No, not that left. Okay fine, this left. Traffic was chaos. Streets were blocked. The city felt like it was actively working against us. At some point we accepted that the only viable plan was to drop Kimi at the curb, shove her toward the club, and let destiny sort it out.

We screeched to a stop outside Fairy Butch with minutes to spare. Kimi and I jumped out and disappeared into the line. Tess and her girlfriend at the time went to find parking and ended up kissing in the car at midnight, which feels right. Kimi sprinted inside, adrenaline fully engaged. Now all she had to do was find one woman in a packed club before midnight.

No pressure.

That night, the universe was on our side.

Against all odds, they found each other. They kissed as the ball dropped. And 2004 became 2005, and in that moment we were absolutely convinced we had personally intervened in fate.

I wish I could say they lived happily ever after, however they were together for eight years. Kimi’s breakup with the woman she once kissed at midnight was painful. As breakups usually are. But now she’s happily single and finding genuine joy in string cheese, which is honestly abso-fucking-lutely wonderful for her.

Time has taught me this, having beautiful memories with someone doesn’t mean you forget why the relationship ended. Sometimes people love each other and still aren’t ready for each other. Sometimes timing matters just as much as feelings. And that’s okay.

What I know now, and what I’m carrying into this New Year, is simple:

• Don’t stay where you’re not wanted.

• Don’t beg someone to choose you.

• Don’t make yourself smaller to be loved.

You deserve to be with someone who cherishes you. Someone who chooses you freely, again and again. Someone who would race across the city just to kiss you at midnight. And who has a best friend who wants that kind of love for you, too.

You are not an extra in your own life. You are the main character. You are the prize. And that person willing to run across the city? They’re out there. Don’t settle for anything less while they’re on their way.

Take care of yourselves and take care of each other!