The Dogs, the Jungle, and the Joy: My Costa Rica Queer Expat Life Reboot

Some people move abroad to “find themselves.” I moved to the jungle and accidentally found four dogs, a surf habit, and a version of myself I actually like.

This is not a spiritual awakening post.

There will be no references to cacao ceremonies.

But it is a story about how I left the hustle, found the ocean, adopted a dog (okay, two), and wrote a Broadway-style musical in the middle of a tropical rainforest.

So yeah, maybe it is a little magical. Just with more bug spray.

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The Dogs Picked Me (Literally)

I live in Costa Rica now with three very small, very sassy rescue dogs:

• Maggie (Magnolia): my OG ride-or-die who moved here with me

• Rose & Daisy: sisters I adopted locally after they were found abandoned in the jungle

• Iris: the newest jungle rescue. We saw her flower name online and knew she had to join the family.

 (Yes, all floral names — I’m aware that’s deeply gay.)

The truth is, when we got Daisy and Rose, I was only going to adopt one dog.

But at the adoption event, when I placed Daisy back in the pen and turned to leave, she launched herself from the top rail — tiny puppy body airborne — and landed squarely in my chest.

I wish I were exaggerating. She chose me. I brought both her and her sister home. Then we got Iris, the 3 month old puppy, because at this point, why not?

Now, they run the house. I’m just the shirtless guy who opens cans and funds their plush toy addiction.

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Surf, Sweat, and a Story That Finally Came Out

I moved to Costa Rica for a lot of reasons — burnout, politics, a toxic work environment, the Trump administration, needing air — but I stayed because it gave me something I didn’t know I was missing:

Stillness. Breath. Joy. Creative ignition.

There was a moment — standing in the ocean, salt-stung and shaky, catching my first real wave — when I realized: Oh. I’m actually doing this.

Something cracked open in me. Something that had been held tight by emails and deadlines and trying to survive the world.

Soon after, I sat down and finally wrote Speakeasy — the Broadway musical that had been living in my brain for 30 years. And then I finished Notes From a Sissy, my queer Southern memoir of survival, sass, and sequins.

Costa Rica didn’t just give me a life reboot. It gave me my voice back.

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The Queer Expat Life Is a Flex

I chose Costa Rica because it’s one of the few countries in Central America that recognizes same-sex marriage and has anti-discrimination protections. I knew I wanted to be somewhere I could be my full, fabulous self — not just tolerated, but welcomed.

And guess what? I’ve found it.

From queer expats to locals with big ally energy, I’ve built a new kind of chosen family here. One that includes morning surf meetups, jungle hikes, and the occasional drag brunch in the tropics.

Also yes, I still have a permanent U.S. address (calm down, HR people), vote like it matters (because it does), and stay connected to my roots — but this life? This reboot? This was for me.

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This Isn’t an Escape. It’s a Homecoming.

Sometimes people ask, “Are you ever coming back?”

But the better question is: What did I come back to here?

I came back to myself. My joy. My art. My energy. My weird, gay, wonderful self that had been buried under years of proving, pleasing, and pushing through.

I still work. I still write. I still lead. All fromm my Costa Rica queer expat life. But I do it now with the windows open, the jungle howling, and four dogs asleep at my feet.

And honestly? That’s the real flex.

💬 Want to follow the fun?

• → Read how I left the grind and found joy in the jungle

• → Meet my musical Speakeasy (yes, written in the jungle)

• → Explore Notes From a Sissy, the book that tells it all

• → Subscribe for updates, stories, and dog cameos

• → Follow me on Instagram for jungle life and shirtless surf joy