ALL THE FAILS | DR. OREN TEPPER

When I moved to New York in 2015 and started raising children, I met so many husbands who I’d chat with at kid parties or maybe even share a tuna tartare with on double dates, but none of them were real friends. Most of the time, I didn’t even save their numbers on my phone. They were relegated to that in-between place where you have to scroll backwards through a text thread to get context on who the fuck is writing you. I don’t care about most husbands. I tend to only have interest in wives.

But Oren was different. I wasn’t just sharing an avocado toast with him at Serafina because I was friends with his wife, or because our husbands worked together, or because our kids were roughly the same age. I also wasn’t just blowing up his phone because I wanted Botox, a prescription refilled, or an opinion on my falling face. Oren is a true friend in every sense of the word. He is supportive, generous, and beyond empathetic.

He read my novel when it was nothing but a stack of papers that needed to be spell-checked. He called me non-stop when Sid fractured his skull and landed in the hospital. He has shown up to every event we’ve ever invited him to. He’s indulged my craziness and championed my ambition. Oren is the type of guy I’d want my daughter to marry. But since I only have sons, and he’s already married, I guess he’ll just be one of my best friends.