The Tandem Girls: The Friendship That Rewrote the Rules

Sarah Amoros
Apr 17
4 min read

Updated: Jun 19

This is a story of confidence, chaos, and coming home to me.

It’s taken me a long time to step back and say, “I’m proud of her.”

Hi… I am her :)

Peace Wasn’t My First Language

Peace doesn’t come knocking. You have to hunt it down. Choose it. Over and over again—even when it costs you comfort, even when it makes you the “difficult” one. So when I felt the call to move across the country—far from familiarity, far from everything—I listened. Even though it scared the hell out of me. Because I’d rather be scared and true than safe and small.

Be afraid and do it anyway. Be freakin’ brave.

The Roadtrip That Rerouted Everything

The day I left, my best friend Tori pulled up with snacks, a playlist, and a heart of loyalty. She didn’t flinch when I told her I was leaving. She didn’t say, “Are you sure?” She just said, “Let’s go.”

As we passed Lake Erie we flicked on a Mel Robbins Podcast. The topic? confidence. And it was like Mel had bugged our car. Every word hit. Every sentence felt like a mirror. We kept slapping each other’s shoulders like we were catching truth midair. Tori needed confidence to build her business. I needed confidence to start my life out west. And when Mel said, “Saying no to others means saying yes to yourself,” it cracked something open. I realized that disappointing others might be the only way I’d ever stop disappointing me.

The Boldness of Choosing Yourself

Not everyone chooses themselves. Not everyone walks away from comfort, even when it’s suffocating. But I did. I traded certainty for self-trust. I packed up my life, my fear, and my curiosity—and I hit the road. A single girl with no plan B and no applause. Just a best friend in the passenger seat and a deep knowing in my gut. And somewhere along the way, I realized—not everyone will understand, and that's okay. They don't have to.

The Sisterhood That Saved Me

Tori is more than my best friend. She’s my tandem girl. My person. My chosen family. She’s the kind of woman who helps pack your boxes while you unpack your mind—gently. Who drives across the country with you and doesn’t complain once. Who lifts heavy things—furniture, feelings, fears—and makes it all feel lighter. When our tire blew out mid-trip, we didn’t spiral. We just pulled over, figured it out, and laughed while we waited. Because when the friendship is rooted in emotional maturity, everything is solvable. Everything is softer.

There’s no envy between us. No competition. No whispers behind backs or side-eyes across rooms. Her success doesn't shrink me. My healing doesn't intimidate her. We don’t bond over bitterness. We bond over belief—in ourselves, and in each other.

Our friendship is tandem. Even when we are apart in other states, we are still tandem—supporting one another’s dreams and goals. We’re strapped in, attached, but also able to live our own separate lives. As our college track coach used to say, we’ve always been “attached at the hip.” (Shout out Coach Cole, we love you) And somehow, even in post-college adulthood, we can still feel each other’s presence on our hip bones—states away. That is the beauty of us.

The Friendship That Rewrote the Rules

Before her, I didn’t know friendship could feel like this. I thought closeness meant chaos. That being loved meant being useful. That trust had to be earned through pain. I thought loyalty came with gossip and “girl code” came with conditions. But Tori taught me that real connection isn’t built on shared wounds—it’s built on shared growth. Because of her, I’ve learned how to be curious instead of guarded. Because of her, I’ve made strangers into family. Because of her, I’ve adopted softness—and let it stay. She changed the way I form every relationship now. I don’t choose people who drain me. I choose people who see me. People who care about what lights me up, not just what I can do for them. People who remind me that my passions don’t just matter to me—they matter to them too.

And… I SEE OTHER PEOPLE.

What This Journey Taught Me

aka Life Lessons From the Passenger Seat

Confidence isn’t a feeling—it’s a verb. A decision to keep showing up.
Let your “No” echo—it’s yours. Disappointing others might be the first step in never disappointing yourself again.
You are not the manager of anyone’s reactions.
You don’t have to be everything to everyone—but don’t be the one letting you down.
Alignment is energizing. If it’s draining you, it’s not for you.
****The right circle will get smaller—and realer.****
Confidence is your pen. Your story waits for you to write it.
Fitting in is overrated. Being you is the assignment.