What is her type?
“Badies,” she says, offering that she’s a sucker for a girly girl with a nice smile, who can also be “a bit of a bro.”
“Me and T, we differ on that,” Williams chimes in. “I like very feminine, submissive energy. I don’t need my woman to be my bro.”
“And that’s good because we don’t like the same girls,” Hiedeman says.
Neither one is seriously seeing anyone right now, though last month, they did stream themselves going on a double date.
“But that was just for fun,” Williams says. “That wasn’t looking for love. I’m not looking for no love; T’s always looking for love.”
“If love finds me, it finds me,” Hiedeman admits.
“If love finds me, I don’t want to be found!” Williams says. “On God. The perfect girl can fall in my lap and I’m gonna be like, ‘Yeah, nah, not right now. We can have fun though.”
It is not lost on them that not everyone feels as safe or empowered to live so freely. “Me and Courtney are blessed,” Hiedeman says. “My family [and] all my friends were super accepting of who I was, so that made it so much easier for me to be me. I know that everybody doesn’t have that luxury. We try to inspire people to be who they are, if they don’t have support elsewhere, because again, I know that path is not the same for everybody, or as easy.” Thus, what started as a way for Hiedeman and Williams to further connect with fans and monetize a friendship seemingly made for the camera, has morphed into something far more meaningful. Yes, they want to share their fun-filled lives as professional athletes and best friends, but what’s most important, they say, is that that they do so while wearing their gayness and masculinity on their sleeves.
