I attended a close friend's wedding. It was our first time meeting in real life.

• Two years ago I responded to a thread in a Facebook group to be "accountability buddies."
• Genevieve and I matched up and became fast friends; we have talked on Zoom almost daily since.

I didn't anticipate liking Genevieve as much as I did. We met through a Facebook community for freelance writers in December 2021 when someone in the group posted seeking an accountability buddy. Quickly, the discussion was flooded with replies. Some raved about how an accountability partner had catapulted their career. Many raised their virtual hands to say they wanted in.

I hoped that with an accountability partner I could finally show up on social media to humblebrag about my first six-figure year as a freelancer or get The New York Times to accept one of my many pitches.

More important, after two years of pandemic life as a writer — a career that was isolating even before we were worried about masks, social distancing, and how to score a sourdough starter — as a card-carrying extrovert, I was desperate for connection.

Our conversation flowed easily

Genevieve met my criteria: female and interested in finding an accountability buddy. I messaged her, and we scheduled a phone call to see whether we were a fit. In the intervening days, I envisioned dollars flowing into my bank account and the dream bylines I'd accrue once I had an accountability buddy.

But when I called, she didn't pick up. She was obviously a flake, I thought. Then, she texted me. She was sorry; she'd mixed up the time zones, and could I talk later that day? She seemed genuine. Why not?

Our conversation flowed easily, considering we were two strangers essentially on a blind friend phone date. We talked about our niches, goals, and what we hoped to get out of an accountability partnership. Our areas of expertise were different enough that we wouldn't be competing for the same clients but similar enough that we could help each other brainstorm solutions for finding new clients, pushing back on restrictive contracts, and hunting down unpaid invoices.

We agreed to meet over Zoom at 9 a.m., Monday to Thursday, to discuss our goals, agendas, challenges, and wins.

We had a lot in common

Though we initially stuck to talking about work, it was obvious we had a lot in common. Right away, we noticed each other's cute, quirky coffee mugs. Soon, we discovered a shared love for the same pen and a common obsession with the same movie. Both of us are middle children; we each have a sister and a brother; and — perhaps relatedly — we are fans of therapy, self-discovery, and mental-health TikTok.

For nearly two years, on an almost daily basis, we've celebrated each other's wins, given each other on-demand pep talks, and helped each other craft sensitive client emails.

So when Genevieve invited me to her wedding, I didn't think twice about whether I'd attend. Even though it would be our first time meeting in real life, she was the "coworker" I'd longed for — and a close friend.

We met for the first time in person at her wedding

The first time we saw each other was outside the ladies' room before the ceremony. Aglow in her wedding gown, Genevieve was even more radiant than I'd expected. Hugging her for the first time felt like embracing an old friend.

Even though I didn't know anyone at the wedding besides my husband, I didn't mind. He and I fell into easy conversation with other guests, and I got to know Genevieve on a deeper level after chatting with her sister over hors d'oeuvres and hearing heartfelt and hilarious toasts from her friends and family. Though it was the first wedding I've attended as a nondrinker, it was also one of the most joyful.

My accountability buddy, it turns out, hasn't been a magic ticket to The New York Times or earning six figures (yet). But in Genevieve, I have something more valuable than money or prestige. I have a camaraderie that's hard to come by as a solopreneur and the joy of sharing my morning coffee with a friend who really sees me — and I don't even mind that it's through a screen.