Last Saturday, we decided to do a “Newlywed Game Night.” You know, the one where you guess your spouse’s favorite whatever. It started civilly. Mark guessed my favorite movie was The Notebook . (It’s Die Hard . He should know this.)

We sat on the couch. Mark put his head in my lap. “I’m sorry I leave my socks inside out,” he said.

We became fast friends. The kind where you text across the driveway: “Do you smell gas or is that just my cooking?”

When Sam walked into my house, I was standing in the kitchen holding a broken cheese grater and a bag of sad lettuce. Mark had left a half-empty mug of cold coffee on the windowsill. Sam looked at me, sighed like a 40-year-old dad, and said, “I see the chaos. I accept it.”

“Sam organized our junk drawer,” I replied. “It’s labeled. There’s a section for ‘cords nobody owns.’”

Silence.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go explain to Sam why I used his fancy level as a back scratcher. Like this post? Subscribe below for more stories about accidental adult friendships and the shelf that is definitely going to fall down tomorrow.

Sam and I tried to hang a shelf. Sam is an engineer. He measured twice. He used a level. He found the stud. I handed him a screwdriver, and he said, “No, babe, the Phillips head.” I felt seen and attacked.