Hello hello! If you missed our favorite links from Monday, check them out. Highlights include the shorts we both love, a great playlist, and a summer pasta recipe.
Written by
. Edited by .I’m an obsessive reader, which means my vocabulary has always been big. In middle school, I quickly realized it wasn’t cool to say “platitude” instead of “cliche” or “serendipity” instead of “luck,” and I started a habit that's taken me the rest of my life to undo: before I say anything, I mentally replace any SAT words with smaller words. It’s like the opposite of the thesaurus.com essay trick.
At some point in my twenties, after I slipped up a few times and people didn’t bat an eyelash, I had the opposite realization: it was cool to use the perfect word. Or at least, it wasn’t uncool. That’s when I started stopping myself before replacing a word and instead using the one that first occurred to me. (If this sounds complicated, it is.)
My young adult identity — like most — was decided by the majority vote. I knew anything that separated me from my peers was dangerous. But now that I’m past the turbulence of my teens and early to mid-twenties, no one’s looking around to make sure everyone else stays in line. On the contrary, I think they’re drawn to the people taking risks and having fun.
Now that I’m past the turbulence of my teens and early to mid-twenties, no one’s looking around to make sure everyone else stays in line.
I’ll give you another example. When I met Sam, one of the early things that made me go nuts about him was his dancing. The first time I saw him dance was at a pretty standard Boston bar with a bunch of his friends. I expected a little side-to-side rock, maybe some shoulder rolls and hip action if he was particularly bold.
He floored me with elaborate moves that had him traveling across the floor: spins, booty drops, and, at several points, what looked like a step-ball-change.
It wasn’t a Step Up-worthy routine. It was more attractive because Sam was clearly not a professional dancer, just an extremely enthusiastic one.
A few weeks ago, I was picking out an outfit for a show. Out of habit I grabbed a pair of jeans, then saw a retro navy-blue jumpsuit I’d last worn to a wedding. Way too much, I thought. Then: Huh. It could look good with sneakers.
It did look good, and I wore it. The friends we were going with showed up in jeans. I felt a moment of doubt, then reminded myself: Enthusiasm is never uncool.
As I’ve written about before, I’ve been challenging myself to pursue friendships in a way I haven’t since college. Repeatedly putting myself out there, opening myself up to being rejected, has felt deeply uncomfortable. My ears literally creep up to my shoulders as I write a text asking someone to hang out or prepare myself to walk into a group of near and total strangers.
I make mistakes. I’ve said the wrong thing, cracked jokes that didn’t land, raved about the book I was reading for a little too long. Sometimes I get in my head, replaying these moments and imagining others’ judgement.
My ears literally creep up to my shoulders as I write a text asking someone to hang out.
To stop myself from spinning out, I remind myself: enthusiasm is never uncool. Trying is never uncool. And the pay-off of being vulnerable is that the people in my burgeoning community are seeing me fully, in all of my unedited, cares-a-lot glory.
Sam’s parents have a house on Cape Cod. Six summers of beach days, and I’d rarely ventured further into the ocean than my knees. The water is freezing. I was content to read on my towel.
Last summer, Sam told me he was going in for a dip, and I surprised us both by saying I’d come too. I started running at the tide, soon outpacing him, and didn’t stop until the ocean had completely swallowed me up.
At every point along the way, my body asked me to turn back. A minute later, as it adjusted to the temperature, I was glad I hadn’t listened: the cold became invigorating. Sam was right behind me, and soon we were frolicking in the waves: splashing, laughing, jumping on each other with the enthusiasm of kids.
Bonus Content:
I couldn’t leave without showing you The Jumpsuit. More wearable than you’d think :)
Platonic Love is an entirely reader-supported, affiliate-free publication — meaning we don’t generate any revenue from the links we share so that you feel 100% confident in our recommendations. If you’re enjoying the newsletter, please consider showing your support by liking, commenting, and/or upgrading to a paid subscription. Have a great weekend!