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Sam wasn’t what you’d call a “people person.”
He once apologized to a vending machine for taking too long to choose between Doritos and Cheetos, then bought both out of guilt.
Social grace? Never heard of her.
Social grizzly? Now we’re talking.
So when he spotted the flyer, “Bear Lovers Meeting – All Welcome!” stuck to the campus bulletin board between ads for roommates and kidney sales, Sam felt something he hadn’t experienced since discovering David Attenborough had a YouTube channel.
Pure, unadulterated optimism.
He arrived five minutes early, wearing his vintage Yellowstone T-shirt and carrying a notebook, pen, and a printed list of fun bear facts in case there was a trivia round.
The room smelled like vanilla and tax-deductible therapy. A disco remix of Staying Alive played softly in the background, while a circle of men sat in the center, already radiating an energy best described as “flannel-forward.”
“Hey there!” boomed a man whose beard looked like it filed its own taxes. “You new to the scene?”
“Yes! I’m Sam. I’m what you might call a bear enthusiast.”
That got a few chuckles.
“Cool, cool,” Beardzilla replied. “We love seeing fresh faces. Especially ones that appreciate a little fur.”
Sam practically glowed. “Did you know polar bears aren’t actually white? Their fur is translucent and their skin is black!”
Silence.
Beardzilla blinked. “That’s… uh, kinky.”
“Right?!” Sam exploded with enthusiasm. “And evolutionarily speaking, it’s genius! The black skin absorbs heat from the sun while the hollow hairs create these tiny air pockets for insulation, which creates this perfect thermoregulatory system that allows them to survive in—”
“Whoa there, tiger,” Beardzilla interrupted, holding up a meaty hand. “Save some facts for the rest of us. Why don’t you grab a seat and we’ll get this party started?”
Sam wedged himself between a guy built like a brick wall and another who clearly identified as a sentient redwood with a CrossFit addiction.
As he settled in, he noticed a rainbow flag with a paw print hanging on the wall.
Interesting choice for a conservation group, he thought. Very inclusive. Progressive wildlife enthusiasts. I like it.
“Let’s do our intros,” the bearded leader said. “You know the drill. Name, mood, and ideal type this week.”
“I’ll start,” said a guy who looked like he deadlifted grizzly bears for fun. “Derek, thirsty AF, and this week I want a gym bro who cries during Pixar movies.”
“Clay here. Emotionally fragile. Give me a trucker who bakes sourdough and whispers poetry to wilted houseplants.”
“Joel,” said another man with the expression of someone who’d given up on everything except looking good while doing it. “Dead inside. Craving a man whose thighs could crack coconuts and my trust issues.”
It was Sam’s turn next.
He stood like he was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “Hi everyone! I’m Sam. I’m feeling pretty optimistic! And I like all bears equally because discrimination based on species is scientifically unfounded.”
Collective head-bobbing ensued.
“I mean, grizzlies are obviously the classics,” he continued, warming up, “but honestly? I think sloth bears are criminally underrated. Did you know they have this incredible specialized feeding technique where they use suction to vacuum up insects? It’s like nature invented the world’s first organic Dyson! Wild stuff, right?”
The silence that followed was so complete you could hear someone’s beard growing.
Ray, the head beard in charge, cleared his throat. “Welcome, Sam. Knowledge is sexy, right?”
“Damn right,” someone muttered.
“Now,” Ray continued, “this month’s theme is ‘Bear Identity in the Modern World.’“
Sam’s face lit up like he’d just been officially anointed Forest Fire Prevention Ambassador by Smokey Bear himself.
“We’re doing a discussion circle,” Ray explained. “What does it mean to be a bear today? What challenges are you facing? What do you love about the identity?”
“Bear identity,” Sam repeated under his breath, opening his notebook. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
Derek jumped in first. “Okay, real talk? I love the bear scene. The body-positive, beard-positive, carb-positive energy? Beautiful. But sometimes I feel like if you’re not thick enough, you’re not valid, you know?”
Clay added, “And God help you if you trim your chest hair. I did it once and was treated like I kicked a puppy.”
Derek gasped. “You trimmed?!”
“It was one time!”
Sam raised his hand. “Sorry, just to clarify, are we talking about actual bears?”
Everyone turned.
Ray offered a kind smile. “We’re talking about bear culture, Sam. As in, the queer subculture. But you’re welcome here too.”
Somewhere inside Sam’s brain, a slow Windows XP startup sound played as everything finally clicked.
“Oh,” he said, feeling heat rise on his cheeks. “Oh no. Um… I identify as a biology major.”
The guy next to him, Sentient Redwood, burst into laughter.
Sam looked up, panicked. “Hi?”
“I’m Tony,” the tree said. “So what’s your favorite bear fact?”
Desperate to feel competent again, Sam blurted, “The sloth bear’s mating call is basically just screaming into the void.”
Derek snapped his fingers. “Same.”
“Classic,” Tony said with a serious nod.
“Thanks. What’s your favorite kind of bear?”
“The kind that stumbles into the wrong meeting and steals the show anyway.”
Sam’s soul briefly left his body.
Ray held up a hand. “Alright, we’re gonna pause there. Great discussion tonight, everyone. Thanks for showing up and being real.”
“Wait,” Joel said. “Tony hasn’t spoken yet.”
Tony shrugged. “I’m good.”
“No, you have to share,” Derek said. “The straights stole the lumberjack aesthetic from us, and we need you to reclaim it.”
Ray chuckled. “The floor is yours if you want it, Tony.”
Tony sighed like someone who’d been cornered by inevitability. “Fine. Bear identity, for me, is... feeling comfortable in my body for the first time in my life. And knowing I can take up space without apologizing for it.”
He glanced meaningfully at Sam, who immediately tried to hide behind his notebook.
Ray clapped his hands together. “Perfect! And on that note, snack break! Coffee and cookies on the back table. Please be civilized and don’t stage any cage matches over the last cookie this time.”
Derek groaned dramatically. “That was one time and Jerry started it!”
As everyone migrated over, Tony motioned toward the refreshment table. “Wanna grab a cookie and tell me more about bear mating calls?”
Sam hesitated. “Is that a euphemism?”
Tony let out a low laugh. “Only if you want it to be.”
“I don’t. I genuinely just like talking about animal behavior.”
“Great. I’m all ears then.”
They reached the snack table, which featured exactly two options, oatmeal raisin cookies and something suspiciously labeled “Raw Energy Bites.”
Sam recoiled. “Are those… birdseed meatballs?”
“I ate one last week and hallucinated a conversation with my high school guidance counselor about cryptocurrency,” Tony shared, grabbing a cookie. “She told me to invest in flannel futures.”
“Did you take her advice?”
“Look at me,” Tony gestured to his outfit. “Do I look like someone who ignores prophetic visions about flannel?”
Sam laughed.
“There we go,” Tony said with a smile.
“Huh?”
“You’ve been on the verge of short-circuiting for the past thirty minutes. I was beginning to think that was just your default setting.”
“I’m not socially defective, if that’s what you’re implying,” Sam protested. “I’m just calibrated for different environments. Like libraries.”
Tony held up his hands. “Didn’t say you were. I like awkward.”
Sam blinked. “Oh.”
“So how did a literal bear nerd end up at gay bear group therapy?”
Sam looked down at his cookie. “There was a flyer. It said ‘Bear Lovers Meeting.’ I assumed it was a wildlife club. I even brought a list of facts.”
”Like a literal list?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sam pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to Tony, who took it and read aloud. “‘Bear Facts: Number One, bears can run up to thirty-five miles per hour, which is faster than you can run, so don’t try it.’“ He paused. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
“I believe in practical education.”
Tony continued. “Number Two, a bear’s sense of smell is seven times stronger than a bloodhound’s. Number Three, a group of bears is called a sleuth or sloth, depending on whom you ask and how fancy you’re feeling.’“ He grinned. “I feel like there’s judgment in that last one.”
“I just report the facts.”
“Number Four, bears are excellent swimmers, which is terrifying if you were planning to escape by water.” Tony chuckled. “Number Five, the spectacled bear is the only South American bear and it, quite frankly, deserves more recognition.”
He looked up. “You have some strong opinions about bear representation, huh?”
“I do. I believe all bears should have an equal right to bear representation,” Sam said matter-of-factly.
Tony stared at him for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. “Did you just make a bear pun while defending spectacled bear civil rights?” he asked, wiping at his eyes.
Sam’s face turned red. “It wasn’t intentional.”
“Even better.” Tony folded up the list and handed it back. “You know what? I’m keeping you.”
“Excuse me?”
“As a friend,” Tony clarified quickly, seeing Sam’s panic. “Unless you’re into the other thing. But I’m not making assumptions about your sexual orientation based on your accidental attendance at gay bear night.”
“I—” Sam started. “Honestly, I don’t really even know what I’m into. I’ve been so focused on studying bear mating rituals, I forgot to figure out my own.”
Tony nodded sagely. “A man of priorities. I respect that.”
From across the room, Derek called out, “Tony! Are you hoarding the new guy?”
“Maybe!” Tony called back.
Still beaming from whatever conversation he’d just left, Ray made his way over to Sam and Tony. “Sam, before you disappear into the night, I wanted to say thanks for coming. You brought a really unique energy to the group.”
“I brought confusion and a factual understanding of ursine biology.”
“Exactly,” Ray grinned. “Look, you’re welcome back anytime. We meet every Thursday. And hey, if you ever want to start an actual wildlife conservation group, I bet half these guys would show up just for the snacks.”
Clay overheard and wandered over. “Did someone say wildlife conservation? Because I have very strong feelings about deforestation.”
“And I have strong feelings about your feelings,” Derek added, appearing with a mouth full of cookie. “It’s very attractive when you get passionate about trees.”
Sam watched this interaction with the fascination of an anthropologist discovering a new social structure.
Tony noticed his expression. “It’s like a nature documentary, isn’t it?”
“A little bit, yeah. Except David Attenborough would have a field day with the mating rituals alone.”
Tony nearly choked on his coffee. “Please tell me you’re going to elaborate on that observation.”
“Well, for starters, the preening behavior is obvious. Derek’s been adjusting his flannel every thirty seconds since Clay mentioned trees. And Clay’s doing that thing where he’s pretending to be interested in something else while monitoring Derek’s reactions.”
“Go on,” Tony urged, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Meanwhile, Joel is exhibiting classic territorial behavior by positioning himself near the snack table while maintaining visual contact with potential mates. It’s actually very similar to how grizzlies establish dominance near salmon runs.”
“You just compared Joel to a grizzly bear at a salmon buffet.”
“If the behavioral pattern fits...”
Tony was quiet for a moment, studying Sam’s face. “You know what I think?”
“That I’m weird?”
“That you’re fascinating,” he answered, pulling out his phone. “Can I get your number? I want to hear more of your theories about human mating behaviors. Purely for scientific purposes, of course.”
Sam hesitated. “I should probably mention that my texting skills are on par with my people skills.”
“So you’ll send me random bear facts at 2 AM?”
“I prefer not to withhold critical information once I’ve acquired it. You never know when someone else might need it, and I don’t want the guilt of a mauling on my conscience.”
“Perfect. I’m an insomniac anyway.”
While they exchanged numbers, Ray called for everyone’s attention. “Alright, gentlemen, we’re wrapping up. Remember, next week’s theme is ‘Bear Visibility in the Workplace,’ so bring your corporate horror stories.”
As the group began to disperse, Tony lingered beside Sam. “So, what’s the plan? Are you going to pretend this never happened and go back to your regularly scheduled hermit life?”
“I was thinking about it. But then I remembered that bears are actually quite social creatures when they want to be. Maybe I should try following their lead.”
“Is that your way of saying you’ll come back?”
“It’s my way of saying I’ll think about it. And maybe I’ll stop assuming every animal-related meeting is about actual animals.”
“Probably a good life lesson,” Tony agreed. “Though in fairness, ‘Bear Lovers Meeting’ was pretty ambiguous.”
“I’m learning that context is everything.”
Tony shouldered his jacket. “Walk you to your car?”
“I took the bus.”
“Walk you to the bus stop, then.”
They made their way outside, where the evening air carried the scent of pine and the distant sound of traffic. Sam found himself surprisingly reluctant for the night to end.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked as they reached the corner.
“Shoot.”
“When you said you liked awkward... did you mean it?”
Tony stopped walking and turned to face him. “Sam, in the last hour, you’ve accidentally crash-landed in a gay support group, delivered an impromptu lecture on polar bear thermoregulation, made an unintentional pun about bear representation rights, and compared my friends to salmon-hunting grizzlies,” he said. “And somehow, that’s the most entertained I’ve been in months.”
“So... yes?”
“So yes. Text me a bear fact when you get home. Something weird.”
“They’re all weird. That’s what makes them great.”
“I’m counting on it.”
As the bus pulled up, Sam found himself smiling for the first time in weeks.
He wasn’t great at people. That was no secret.
But maybe, with the right person, he could learn.
After all, even bears had to figure out how to socialize eventually.
And as he settled into his seat and watched Tony wave from the sidewalk, Sam realized he was looking forward to next Thursday in a way that had nothing to do with bears.
Well, not the four-legged kind, anyway.
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Fear