My phone buzzes. Again.

It's the group chat. Six gay men, one chat, zero organization.

247 unread messages

I open the app with a heavy sigh. What do I find?

Mark sent a photo of his breakfast at 7:43. Avocado, naturally. Then a poll: Brunch Saturday?

Tom responds with three question marks. Dennis sends a GIF of a dancing cat. Sander says: I can't, long story.

The long story never comes.

Robin asks if anyone likes his new sweater. Twelve photos follow. From every possible angle.

The brunch that never happens

We've been trying to plan brunch for three weeks. Three weeks.

First Saturday worked. Then it didn't. Then Sunday. Then someone had a date.

Mark suggests a new date. Tom has yoga. Dennis is visiting his mother. Sander says again: Long story.

I suggest we just pick a date and stick with it. Everyone reacts with a thumbs up.

Nobody shows up.

The silent ones

Every group chat has them. The silent members.

Ours is Pieter. He hasn't said anything since March. We don't know if he's still alive.

Sometimes he sends a heart under a message from two weeks ago. Then we know: he's reading. He's judging. But he's not participating.

Pieter is the mysterious cat of the friend group. Shows up when he feels like it. Disappears without explanation.

The evening drama spike

It always happens around eleven at night.

Someone's had a rough go. A date who ghosted them. A coworker who said something stupid. A barber who cut too much.

The chat explodes. Supportive messages. Angry emojis. What a jerk! And: You deserve better, hon.

By the next morning, it's all forgotten. We're talking about brunch. The brunch that never happens.

The voice messages

And then there are Dennis's voice messages.

Four minutes long. About nothing. He starts with okay so listen and ends with anyway, that's basically it.

Nobody listens to them. We all send a heart and hope we're good. Sometimes it turns out to be important. Then Dennis asks: Didn't you hear my voicemail? And we all lie and say we did.

Yet I love them

I complain. A lot. But this chaos is my chaos.

Six men who are never on time. Never actually organize brunch. Always talking way too much about nothing.

And yet I know: if something terrible happens to me tomorrow, that chat will explode. With love, GIFs, and four-minute voice messages.

And then I think: forget the brunch. I already have them.

Even Pieter. Whoever he is.