Field Note
The Summer Camp Syllabus for Grown Men
Designing a season of queer play with nothing more than a spreadsheet and sincerity.
Last summer I created a syllabus for my friend group. We do not have a leader. We barely have consensus on which sparkling water is allowed at meetings. But the energy in June was feral—everyone wanted connection, and no one wanted to plan it. So I opened a spreadsheet, poured some sweet tea, and wrote us a camp schedule.
The rules were simple: every week a different person hosted. The activities had to be analog, ideally outside, and cheap enough that cost never became the reason someone stayed home. We ended up with ten weeks of wonder.
Week by week, the magic unfolded
- Week One: Stargazing orientation. Telescopes borrowed from the community college, blankets layered on the soccer field, a playlist of queer ballads whispered through a Bluetooth speaker.
- Week Three: Chosen family potluck. Everyone brought a dish that told a story. Someone's grandma's macaroni. Someone else's first attempt at vegan ribs. We filled index cards with the recipes and taped them to the wall.
- Week Six: Service project. We packed harm reduction kits for a local outreach group. We labeled each bag with a handwritten note: You deserve mornings full of possibility.
- Week Nine: Queer adult swim. Two hours at a pool we rented via a neighborhood app. No phones allowed. Floaties required.
How to build your own syllabus
- Name the season. Summer Camp was fun, but call it what your group needs—"Monsoon Meditations" or "Autumn Practice." A name becomes a promise.
- Assign the caretaker role. Each week, one person is in charge of logistics. Another is in charge of snacks. Another is the designated joy documentarian.
- Write a field report. After each gathering, note what worked and what needed adjusting. By August you have a manual for repeating the magic.
Why the syllabus matters now
Queer adults are starved for rhythmic, low-pressure ways to be together. So many of us are still recovering from years of isolation, from the economies of nightlife, from the grind of being "on" all the time. A syllabus gives us structure without rigidity. It lets introverts plan their energy. It gives extroverts permission to invite widely.
Start small. Set a budget. Create a shared photo album. Let the experiment breathe. And when you are tempted to cancel because half the RSVPs are "maybe," remember this: the people who show up will make the night worth it.
Thanks for wandering along. When you’re ready for a tangible souvenir, the merch table is stocked with limited runs and hosted checkout links.