I watched my friend cry at a Portuguese coffee shop

Hey, PrideNomad,

I wasn’t planning to write this today.

But I just got off a call with my friend Marcus… and I can’t stop thinking about what he told me.

Marcus moved to Lisbon 8 months ago.
He’s a successful marketing consultant. Makes good money. Has his shit together.

Yesterday, he was sitting at this little café in Príncipe Real…
Watching an elderly Portuguese couple at the next table.

Two men. Maybe 70. Holding hands. Sharing a pastry.
Laughing about something dumb.

Just… existing.

And Marcus started crying.

Right there in public.

Because it hit him:
He’d never seen that before.

Two old gay men.
No fear. No performance. No “Is this safe?”

In America, he said, you just don’t see it.

You see young queer people. But queer elders—free, public, happy?

That’s still rare as hell back home.

“I realized,” Marcus told me,
“I wasn’t just looking at them. I was looking at my future.
And for the first time in my life… it didn’t scare me.”

Look—

I know you’ve been hearing a lot about Portugal lately.

The cost of living. The climate. The visa programs.
Yeah, yeah.

But here’s what nobody tells you:

Portugal doesn’t just let you live cheaper.
It lets you live lighter.

You stop scanning every room.
Stop calculating risk just to hold someone’s hand.
Stop managing how visible or invisible you should be today.

You stop holding your breath.

And that’s when life begins.

Another friend, Jessica, said it like this:

“In Seattle, I was always the lesbian.
Here in Porto? I’m just Jess.”

That’s not a small thing.

That’s everything.

But here’s the truth:

Most people never leave.

Not because they don’t want to.

But because they never give themselves permission
to even explore what leaving could look like.

They get stuck in the research loop.

They convince themselves they can’t afford it.

They wait for things to get better back home…

…even as the rights we once took for granted
get rolled back one law, one headline, one election at a time.

That’s exactly why we created the Portugal Soft Landing Plan.

It’s a test.

A trial run.

A 6-month, no-burn-bridges experiment
to help you find out if this life could be your life.

And right now?

It’s $97.

Next week it doubles.

Because this is a test for us too.
If we keep offering it, the price will land somewhere between $197–$247.

But this first version?

It’s for the early movers.
The ones like Tom, Billy, and Sandy who snagged theirs within hours of us releasing it.

The ones who don’t need a year of hand-wringing.

The ones who know how expensive it is
to keep saying “maybe someday.”

Here’s what you get:

✅ The exact visa path that gives you up to 6 months in Portugal—no commitment required
✅ Trusted housing listings in Lisbon and Porto, filtered for safety, value, and LGBTQ+ friendliness
✅ Real-life budget breakdowns from actual queer expats—both “pasta and wine” and “treat yourself” versions
✅ Legal + financial checklist to keep your home country life intact while you explore
✅ Community connection guide—groups, fixers, and links so you don’t start over alone
✅ Bonus cities you probably haven’t heard of (one with beaches locals say are even better than the Algarve)

PLUS: An early digital copy of our book No Closets. No Borders.

But the real win?

It’s not a checklist.

It’s what happens after you land.

When your shoulders finally drop.

When you hold hands on the metro and no one stares.
When a stranger smiles back instead of looking away.
When your nervous system catches up with your dreams

and you realize:

This is what peace feels like.

And you didn’t even know you were missing it.

If you’re even thinking about leaving…

This is your sign to take it seriously.

Not to blow up your life.
Not to make some dramatic leap.

Just to explore.

Before you shrink a little more.
Before the next law passes.
Before the next “maybe someday” becomes another year of staying stuck.

The Portugal Soft Landing Plan is ready.

And the test price ends this week.

👉 CLAIM YOURS NOW

This isn’t about passports.

It’s about permission.

To imagine something freer.
And to give yourself the tools to try it.

Love you. Mean it.

—Ken

P.S. Portugal’s not perfect. No place is.
But it might be perfect for you, right now.

And you’ll never know unless you go find out.

👉 GET YOUR PLAN BEFORE THE PRICE GOES UP