The Day The Universe and I Have a Little Heart to Heart

17 01 2018

Over the weekend I was over at this lawyer’s apartment and I was intoxicated. I had met him for dinner a week prior, we had matched on Tinder months ago, we hadn’t not hit it off, though, we barely knew each other. I was there trying to get to know him. Let’s just say that I had somehow consumed a rare exotic mushroom and his bathroom wall became something more interesting to look at than pretty much anything else in his apartment, including him.


The thing is, if you slow down and pay attention, the universe will start communicating with you. In fact, the universe is always trying to communicate, it’s just most of the time we’re too busy to pay attention and we miss the signs.

In any event, we were watching music videos on Youtube from the 2000s. I had become restless. I had become slightly paranoid in that I no longer wanted to be there. I wanted to be with my friends. I wanted to be in bed. I wanted to be in bed with my friend who lived two blocks down the street, but I couldn’t be because it was 2 in the morning and I knew he was asleep and that his phone was off. I wanted to be pretty much anywhere else and I definitely didn’t want to be in my head anymore.

The Tracy Chapman song “Fast Car,” came on. The lyrics go something like,

“You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so we can fly away
We gotta make a decision
Leave tonight or live and die this way…”

And it seemingly kept repeating those lines, “leave tonight or live and die this way.”

I started yelling back at the TV (in my head, not out loud). I was like, “Tracy, yo, I totally get what you’re trying to say, but if I leave tonight in my fast car I am more likely to die THAT WAY.” She nodded like she understood and the song ended.

I thought the universe was done talking to me, and yet it had only just begun.
To really drive the issue home, “A Simple Man,” by Lynyrd Skynyrd came on next. I looked into the reflection of the window, as I did I saw the man I was hanging out with, he was eating and in his intoxicated state dropped his food on the floor. He seemed rather goofy in that moment. Bumbling. Derpy. I knew I couldn’t be with him forever. In fact, I didn’t know if I wanted to really be with him for another minute. The song continued, basically informing me that if I stayed with this derpy guy I would have a calm, simple, (potentially beautiful) life. I contemplated the message because I was just sitting there doing nothing anyway.

It seemed too serene, it seemed such a dull way to go. Combined with Tracy’s message from earlier, I would have a simple life and then I would die that way.

No, I said. That is not what I want.

In any event, I freaked out.

First I made him change the music. We listened to Jim Croce. We put on “Time in a Bottle,” which I have decided is officially my favorite song. He tried to dance with me. I was like, I CAN’T! Then, I went and hid in his bedroom and pretended to sleep.

While I was in there, my brain unfolded many things about time, the universe, infinity, the meaning of life etc.

Here’s what came to me.

Breath is a drug more powerful than any other drug. We keep coming back for it,
not just moment after moment, but through infinite time and space.

The meaning is indeed 42 (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy).

Life is a fart in the wind.. aka a joke.. aka a long-ass joke. If you’re not laughing, you don’t get the punchline.

There is no need to waste moments on derps, if you do, so be it, but it’s better to allow people to come into your folds that make you want to sing “Time in a Bottle.” to them and truly mean it.

“I’ve looked around enough to know
That you’re the one I want to go
Through time with”

It doesn’t matter if you die. We die every day when we go to sleep. We die every time we take a breath. The end is never the end, it’s only the beginning to something else. And yes, we can indeed choose who we want to go through time with both here and later, but there’s no need to be so serious about it all. The punchline is always the same, it’s the jokes along the way that make the difference.


Sex, Tinder, and More Than That

12 01 2018

On changing up my dating life patterns and getting something better than before

Since getting back on Tinder in October of this year, I’ve matched with over 300 people, had conversations with 30% of them, and gone out with maybe, maybe 10 different souls.


It’s strange to me because 300 seems like a pretty big number and yet, I feel more disconnected than I ever have in my dating life. It’s as if the more people I match with the less likely I’ll find anyone of quality.

I know, I know, Tinder was created specifically for quantity. It’s designed so you want to keep coming back because someone hotter and funnier and smarter could be just a swipe away.


I get that we’re all throw-away people to each other now.


That we find ourselves rating our worth on the number of matches we have.

Yet, even though 300 people potentially would fuck me based off of a couple of photos, that doesn’t mean any of them would ever like being around me.

Like many people, I enjoy sex. I also have a higher sex drive than most people, men and women alike. It’s often not difficult to find someone willing to sleep with me. Yet, no matter how much I enjoy sex, one night stands, fucktoys, fuckboys, fuckgrrrls (is this a thing?), no-strings-attached, friends-with-benefits–it’s all becoming rather tiring.

It’s time to go deeper with someone–not physically deeper–emotionally, spiritually deeper. It’s like we’re all afraid to actually get to know someone. We come with excuses that are worse than the ones that George and Jerry and Elaine always seemed to find. Hands are too small. Nose is too big. Beard is weird. He still eats Chef-Boyardee. She does this annoying popping thing with her toes. He texts too much. She doesn’t text enough. He sucks my nose when we’re making out. She pees a little when she sneezes. etc. etc.


But why the constant excuses? Is it fear? Is it FOMO? Is it actually justifiable and we should know they’re right from the beginning?


I’ve decided to slow down. To rid my expectations of other people. To attempt to learn something from everyone I meet. To stay curious and open to the exploration of other souls–and at the same time, my own.


The Tinder culture is addicting. It’s like junk food, it tastes delicious but it’s just a bunch of empty calories nothingness.


You keep wanting more but it’s not good for you. Instead of rotting your teeth though, it rots your soul. It makes you feel both wanted and rejected at the same time. It makes you think that the possibilities are endless and you should never settle. And of course you should never settle, but you should also not keep repeating a pattern that fails to live up to anything substantial or meaningful.


I’m not sure if it’s a waste so much as a distraction. A tool that we use to keep ourselves occupied, to keep opportunity available, to see just how fuckable we are on a surface level. Because we all want the possibility of connection, even if it’s just for a night, but many people, whether we want to admit it out loud or not, many of us want something more, something with legs, something closer to longevity.

Maybe all it takes is putting down the phone and looking around, interacting with people in real life situations. It at least seems more fulfilling to talk to someone face to face, see if anything is there, and act upon it if there is, walk away (quickly) if there isn’t?

All I know (which isn’t much) is that I have to stop thinking Tinder is the answer. To be honest, I can barely even remember the question, but I think it has to do with how we uncover love in its long form.

My plan is to create new habits and knock off the bad patterns regardless of how long it takes or how hard it is because I want more–and I’m going to get it.