Finding forever friends can be a lot like dating—if not harder, since there are few platonic equivalents for “I think you’re a hottie; can I take you out sometime?” You’re looking for a person who just gets you, who makes you feel safe to be yourself. Someone you can laugh and dream and travel and explore with. And, just like in romance, that fateful connection often starts with a meet-cute.
For the third year in a row, as part of our Best of San Diego issue, we asked our readers to share their personal stories for the chance to be featured in the mag. The first time around, submitters penned love letters to San Diego itself. Last year, they sent us tales of finding their romantic partners in the city. For 2025, we invited locals to tell us how they met their SD bestie and what makes that friendship so special. These are a handful of the memories that moved us the most.
Sarah & Mia, University Heights
Mia and I first met briefly in 2016 through a mutual friend who was revisiting San Diego. Our paths fatefully crossed again on Halloween night 2018 in the beautiful haze of Whistle Stop Bar‘s smoking patio. I was a blood-soaked Carrie; she was the Joker and official birthday girl. We bonded over horror movies, punk music, beach days, and our shared favorite dive bar. She is a therapist; she helped me decide to get my counseling degree that night. We were both in the early stages of a new self-discovery, both finding ourselves redefining paths. Our love of music led us to the realization of the same teenage dream: to play in a band. Why not? By the end of the night, we had decided—we, a couple of 30-somethings with no idea how to play instruments, nor any innate talent, but nothing to lose, were just crazy enough to start a band. People thought it was a joke, but we didn’t. Now, seven years later, two bands (hi, @witchfaceband), many shows, a few tours, and a million texts and phone calls later, here we are chosen sisters who barely remember a life apart.
Cameron & Sabrina, East Village
Picture this: a travel nurse, his dad, and a dog named Moses roll out of Columbus, Ohio, with nothing but a duffel bag of scrubs, no housing plan, and blind faith that San Diego would “just work out.”
Ten minutes into arriving in the city—yes, 10—we pulled into a random dog park in Little Italy. I instantly clicked with a long haired Dalmatian while my dad talked sports with her owner. That woman became my platonic soulmate before I even had a couch to crash on.
From that moment, we’ve been inseparable—stacking Bud Light towers at Gulls games, collecting passport stamps, and dancing through NYE in Chicago. We’ve lost our voices cheering on the Padres in Mexico City (LFGSD); faked a honeymoon across Europe (shoutout to Hyatt for the castle suite in Ibiza—and, yes, Amazon rings included; and survived three surgeries, matching tattoos, and more first dates than The Bachelor.
If platonic soulmates are real, mine came with a Dalmatian and the liver of a sailor—and just so happens to live in San Diego, the place where our besties story began.
Natalie & Anna & Moanna, Point Loma
It was a fine day to no longer be the new kid. A family moved in next door. They lumbered in, and the mother released them onto the grassy lawn in front of the condominium complex.
These new kids whizzed by on scooters. One of the boys spoke, asking if he could show me his trading cards. Later, I noticed his sister, Anna, following us. Shyness gone, I proposed a game with Anna. Soon, another girl from a condo down the row asked to join—Moana. Within days, the three of us were glued at the hip. The condo complex in Point Loma was our Treasure Island. We were pirates, roaming our slice of San Diego.
We played hide-and-seek behind large trash bins. We swung from vines on eucalyptus trees. We made bushes into a bonafide palace, brushing the dirt neatly with brooms. (We allowed Anna’s brothers to join, but only as housemaids.)
While growing up, we lived through each other’s highs and lows. We may have lived in a world created by imagination, but the fortune of our reality is we loved each other deeply and will for the rest of our lives.
Bonnie & Johnny, Bay Park
It was Lunar New Year (Têt) Eve 2025, and we were all gathered at a Pitch-A-Friend event at The Rabbit Hole. During a break, Johnny noticed a red envelope on my table and said, “Chúc Müng Nâm Mói!” (Happy New Year in Vietnamese). We learned two key things in this initial encounter: We are Vietnamese and we are both from Alabama. What are the odds? Even more small-world moments: We lived in Montgomery at different times, he likely sat outside my brother’s recording studio, and my dad has played at Vietnamese parties in Huntsville, where he’s from (the Viet community is small—could our dads have met at some point, too?). Since then, this chance meeting has evolved into an inseparable friendship: countless game nights, shared meals with an evolving new friend group, adventures to Joshua Tree, and never-ending admiration for each other.
In our culture, the word “duyên” refers to this idea of people who meet for the first time but have an inexplicable, deep bond from past lives, as if they were fated to meet in this lifetime. Our meeting, then, was actually our long-awaited reunion of two besties here in San Diego.
Mike & Kristi, Mission Valley
As a San Diego State student in a terribly boring Shakespeare class, my wandering eyes caught a hot blonde girl a few seats in front of me. Every day, I worked to build up the courage to talk to her, and every day, her RBF turned me into a turtle and I just slid past her into my seat. An entire semester came and went with zero interaction, and I just chalked it up to an L.
Next semester, I walked into my Spanish class early (because I had another class let out early, not because I was an honor-roll student) and the only person sitting in the room, alone, was the angelic hot blonde with RBF. Once again, I froze. Fortunately, she didn’t. She asked me to sit next to her, because, as I later found out, she recognized me and knew she’d need a partner and figured I was the most comfortable path. I know this now—because the hot blonde with RBF is my wife with whom I live in San Diego and have two kids. And that’s how I met my SD (and forever) bestie.
Macaria & Nikki, Scripps Ranch
How and when did we find each other? You’ll get a different answer depending on which of us you ask. She’ll say second grade, when she noticed me on the playground, pigtails flying through the air as I played on the swings. She thought I looked cool and wanted to be my friend but was too shy to say anything. I’ll say we became friends in fourth grade when we had the same class. (What I really mean is I didn’t know she existed until then.) Regardless of when it started, it still lasts. We were a perfect dorky match, our friendship forged over Friday nights at the since-torn-down Vista bowling alley. We didn’t actually bowl, just followed her mom around and ate fries, gossiped about important school crushes, and tried to look cool. Two decades later, we’ve given up on trying to look cool, but I sometimes still wear pigtails.
Rowena & Ashlee, Del Sur
You must have seen me and my San Diego bestie around town—it’s hard to miss us. We’re as odd a pair as they come, sharing stories over baskets of fries and rounds of martinis at Mister A’s, Buona Forchetta, Polite Provisions, The Crack Shack or Georges at the Cove.
Ashlee is a proper Southern belle who won’t answer the door without perfect hair and a dazzling smile, while I’m a five-foot-tall Filipina whose Chicago roots left me no-nonsense and vodka-forward. She gave me a makeup pouch that said, “I like vodka and maybe two other people,” which sums me up to a tee.
We met in our daughters’ first-grade class, and it was bestie love at first sight. Our daughters are now in high school, and we’re more family than friends. She’s taught me empathy, how to toast life’s highs and lows with Champagne, and that every day deserves a good laugh. I taught her the joys of vacation itineraries in Excel.
In 20 years in Chicago, I never found a friend turned familv. Turns out, mine was waiting in a 4S Ranch classroom—fries, martinis, and all.
Eadeh, Abby, and Nathalie, Mission Valley
In the summer of 2024, my world shattered when my best friend Hayley passed away. But before that heartbreak, God quietly began sending me the people I’d need to survive it.
On New Year’s Eve, Hayley convinced me to go out in North Park. That night, I met Nathalie on a packed dance floor. We squeezed into a tiny bathroom stall together and have been inseparable ever since. She blended into my friend group instantly. We’ve already traveled the world together, made dinners at home, and spent holidays side-by-side, and we are both very proud (and extra) boy dog moms. She’s my soulmate in chaos, laughter, and adventure.
Then, in March, while fostering a Tijuana street dog and her puppies through The Animal Pad, I took two of the pups to La Puerta for happy hour. A girl at the bar—Abby—immediately fell in love. She wasn’t looking for a dog, but she adopted one of the puppies… and we adopted her. She fit into our lives like she’d always been there. Abby is my soulmate in softness, kindness, and connection and the perfect match to me and Nathalie’s “delulu.”
Looking back, I know Hayley and God sent them. San Diego is where I lost—and found—my soulmates.
Kimberly & Lexi, Pacific Beach
My sister and lexi met in the “Are we dating the same guy?” Facebook group—because, well, they were! But instead of drama, it turned into an unexpected friendship. When my sister showed me Lexi’s profile, I immediately noticed her Pomeranian and joked,”You guys should just ditch the guy and be friends.” That’s exactly what they did—and soon after, Lexi and I hit it off, too. We bonded over our love for our dogs, being picky eaters, going to the gym, and figuring out single life in San Diego. Now we’re roommates in Pacific Beach, and I couldn’t imagine the city without her.
PARTNER CONTENT
Caroline & Bernie, Torrey Highlands
My first serious boyfriend at 15 years old was so excited for me to meet his lifelong best friend, someone he had known since elementary school. The year was 1998, the venue was Moonlight Beach, and we had planned for a late bonfire that night. I arrived around 5 p.m. and met Bernie, an Encinitas surf rat with a loud laugh and palpable energy. He immediately proceeded to pour our entire supply of rummaged wood crates into the bonfire pit before the sun even showed a hint of setting. I loudly proclaimed, “Who is this asshole?”
He jovially responded, “Don’t worry, it will all work out!” It did. He magically found more wood. In my inevitable junior year relationship separation the following year, I won Bernie in the custody battle, and we have since not only been best friends, but he’s been an uncle to my children, we’ve been at each others weddings, and we call each other for advice on a daily basis. We like to explore old haunts and local shows together, as well as new parts of San Diego. He’s driving me to a medical procedure in two weeks!
