Tom Had MySpace. I Have CruiseHuddle. And Unlike Tom... I Actually Answer.

If you're old enough to remember MySpace, you definitely remember Tom.

Long before Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, or whatever app is currently convincing teenagers that eating laundry detergent is a personality trait, there was one guy who was automatically everyone's first friend. It didn't matter who you were. It didn't matter that your profile had animated glitter cursors, a background that could trigger epilepsy, or a Nickelback song that assaulted unsuspecting visitors the second the page loaded. Tom was already there, smiling in his white T-shirt like he approved of every terrible decision you made.

He became one of the internet's first recognizable faces. Everybody knew Tom, but nobody actually knew Tom. He never posted. He never answered messages. He never chimed into conversations. He was more of a mascot than a person—a reminder that a real human had built this weird little corner of the internet before quietly fading into the background.

I've been thinking about Tom a lot lately.

Not because CruiseHuddle wants to become the next MySpace. Sweet baby Jesus... absolutely not. The internet already has plenty of giant social networks where you spend half your time watching strangers argue about politics and the other half wondering why the algorithm thinks you desperately need to watch another guy pressure-wash a driveway.

CruiseHuddle exists for a completely different reason.

Cruising is one of the only vacations where people genuinely want to meet strangers. Before you've even printed your luggage tags, you're wondering who's sailing with you, who's organizing trivia, who needs a dinner group, who's planning excursions, or who's going to be sitting next to you at the piano bar after one mojito too many.

And here's the crazy part...

The cruise industry has gotten incredibly good at helping you book a vacation with 4,000 complete strangers, while doing almost nothing to help you actually meet any of them.

That's the gap Matthew and I wanted to fill.

MySpace let you rank your Top 8 friends, which probably ended thousands of friendships and at least a few marriages. We'd rather help you find eight people worth sharing a dinner table with. Less drama. Better lobster.

But somewhere along the way, CruiseHuddle became something I never expected.

It stopped feeling like software and started feeling like a neighborhood.

Members weren't just using features anymore—they were helping invent them. Every week I get emails that begin with, "This might be a dumb idea..." and end with me disappearing into the Dungeon for an entire weekend because now I absolutely have to build whatever brilliant thing you just suggested.

CabinShare happened because of conversations with members.

Confirmed Listings happened because you wanted more trust.

Roll Calls evolved because you deserved something better than a Reddit sub run by a guy named Gary who bans people because you used too many emojis. Go fuck yourself Gary!!

Honestly, if you look around CruiseHuddle today, a huge percentage of what you see didn't come from me. It came from this community. I'm just the caffeinated idiot sitting behind a keyboard at two in the morning wondering why a feature that worked perfectly ten minutes ago has suddenly decided to catch fire.

That's exactly why I never wanted CruiseHuddle to become one of those companies where the founder disappears the day the product launches.

You know the type.

You submit feedback through a contact form. An AI thanks you for your "valuable input." Somewhere, a ticket gets assigned a number. Then it quietly dies alone in a database while nobody ever speaks to you again.

That's not CruiseHuddle.

If you email CruiseHuddle, there's a very good chance you're talking directly to me.

Report a bug and I'll probably fix it before breakfast.

Suggest a feature that makes me blurt out, "Holy shit... that's actually brilliant," and don't be surprised when you see it on the site a week later.

Some of you actually apologize before asking for features.

Please stop.

Those emails are my favorite part of the day.

CruiseHuddle isn't built inside a corporate boardroom where executives debate quarterly growth charts over catered sandwiches. It's built because cruisers keep saying, "Wouldn't it be cool if..." and I apparently have absolutely no self-control.

Do I break things?

Occasionally.

Okay... more than occasionally!!

If you've ever met our famous "We're Making Waves (aka Jay is breaking shit)" maintenance page, congratulations—you've witnessed one of my live performances. I'd rather build fast, listen constantly, and occasionally embarrass myself than become one of those platforms that's perfectly polished, professionally managed... and completely dead inside.

What I actually miss about the early internet isn't MySpace itself.

It's the feeling that there was a real person on the other side of the screen.

Today, most companies hide behind logos, AI chatbots, outsourced support, and press releases carefully written to say absolutely nothing.

I'd rather just be Jay.

Ask me which excursion is actually worth the money.

Ask me whether the drink package makes financial sense. (Spoiler: the math gets weird after margarita number six.)

Ask me how CabinShare works.

Ask me why adding video uploads at midnight felt like a fantastic idea.

I won't always have the perfect answer.

But you'll always get a real person who genuinely gives a damn!!

Maybe that's what I miss most about Tom.

Not MySpace.

Just the feeling that someone was there.

Tom was everyone's first friend.

I'm not trying to be everyone's first friend.

I'd much rather be your cruise concierge—the gal who helps you find your people before you board, celebrates when you make lifelong friends (or something a little more interesting), and keeps making CruiseHuddle a little better every single day because this community has earned nothing less.

CruiseHuddle started with Matthew and me.

Today, it belongs to all of us.

And honestly?

I can't wait to see where we take it next.

Well...

After coffee.

Definitely after coffee.