Three weeks ago, while Panama and I were doing a talk at Princeton University, I shared the story of how, although we first met in 2004 and started VSB in 2008, we didnβt meet in person until our three-year anniversary party in D.C. in 2011.
The more I tell that story, the less sense it makes. Itβs geographically absurd. D.C. and Pittsburgh are a four-hour drive apartβa trip that seems even shorter because Breezewood, Pa., exists between them as a convenient halftime to break it up. It takes longer than that to go to Costco. That it took seven years for us to actually see each other was ludicrous.
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It also, of course, is a meta-commentary on the sorts of relationships fostered by the internet, the ubiquity of which is so singular that itβs become atmospheric. Anyone attempting to shoehorn a distinction between digital life and βrealβ life now is a clueless anachronism. We just didnβt have to see each other in person to know and trust each other and didnβt feel a need to force a meeting, instead allowing it to happen organically.
The bulk of the senselessness of that story, however, is mined from the fact that Panama is one of my best friends now. Considering what weβve experienced together, us seeing each other for the very first time in 2011βjust seven years agoβfeels absurd-er. We founded and sold a business.Β
A list of the places weβve been to together includes Los Angeles (twice), New Orleans (twice), Chicago, Stanford, Yale, Harvard and Princeton. Weβve met each otherβs families and been to each otherβs homes. He met my wife before she was even my girlfriend; I met his fiancee years before they had children and got engaged. He helped carry me down the steps at Ozio when I blacked out during my bachelor party in 2014, and I, well, made sure he at least stayed hydrated at his. He would have been a groomsman at my wedding if I had them. (Wedding parties are expensive, and I was still broke-adjacent then.) And Iβm looking forward to Friday when Iβll be a groomsman at his very lightskint African celebration.
Anyway, just as he had a head start over me with children, I have a four-year head start with marriage. If marriage were a Ph.D. program, Iβd be close to defending my dissertation around now. This officially makes me a marriage expertβwise and resourceful; sensible and shrewd; perceptive and pragmatic; astute and sagacious.
This wisdom has equipped me with the ability to deliver poignant, sapient, applicable and timely advice. Iβm a motherfuckinβ marriage maven. A black-ass marriage Yoda. Because of this, Iβve decided, in anticipation of his wedding, to give Panama the greatest gift I could possibly give him: A collection of best practices Iβve gained from experience, combined with a few nuggets of especially handy advice that helped me.
Without further ado, hereβs everything I can possibly say to help ensure that his marriage is a long and fruitful one:
And if thereβs one thing I totally, absolutely, definitely need to tell him β a relevant and unique insight about marriage β itβs this:
Also, just because Iβm feeling jolly and magnanimous, hereβs a list of other people they should maybe listen to about their marriage:
I hope that helped.
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