At some point during the pandemic, it became normal to do everything through a screen. Meetings, therapy, catch-ups, even birthdays. We were "together" — just in little rectangles, muted half the time, waving goodbye before closing the tab and walking ten steps to the kitchen.

And sure, Zoom helped us keep the wheels turning. It gave us access, flexibility, and a reason to put on a decent shirt (at least from the waist up). But as someone who working while raising kids and trying to stay mentally afloat, I can tell you: this way of being connected is not the same as actually being together.

I didn’t feel it all at once. It was more like a slow leak. Over time, the virtual grind started feeling hollow. I was having conversations daily — with my team, with my co-founder, with customers, even with my kids' teachers on school calls. But I wasn’t connecting. Not deeply. Not in the way I used to over a long dinner, a beer, or just sitting next to someone in shared silence.

I missed the eye contact that doesn't freeze. The spontaneous "you won't believe what happened" stories that happen in real life. The ability to read someone's energy without them needing to explain it in bullet points.

Especially as a dad and founder, I started to feel this vacuum of presence. I was showing up everywhere... and still feeling like I was nowhere. There was no third place. Just work. Just home. Just the blinking cursor of a Slack message that didn’t feel like friendship.

We weren’t built for this much disconnection, disguised as convenience.

It hit me that for all the freedom remote work gave us, it also took away something we didn’t fully value until it was gone: shared spaces. Physical community. Shoulder-to-shoulder belonging.

That’s part of what inspired Founding Fathers Club. Not as a backlash to remote life, but as a reclaiming of what we need now more than ever: meaningful friendships, built face-to-face, with people who get what we’re juggling.

I don’t want to only know your calendar. I want to know your quirks, your questions, your what-keeps-you-up-at-night stuff. I want to meet the version of you that doesn’t need to be curated through a webcam.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that men, especially dads who are building things, need real-world community just as much as they need funding, sleep, or time.

We weren’t meant to isolate, and we don’t have to.