On Being Lonely

Well, so much for taking a break from getting laid. After some time away from meaningless sexual escapades I've been venturing back into the confusing world of dating, one night stands, and emotional turmoil.

It hasn't been easy. I think for the first time in a long time I am absolutely prepared to give a piece of myself to another person. And maybe that's the reason I have found things so difficult this time. Suddenly, physical beauty, availability, and the willingness of a woman to pretty much do anything I want is no longer enough. Suddenly, I want HER. I want the person I see inside to be mine. Or maybe what I really want is for the person inside of me to be hers.

Either way, I honestly, truly, sincerely have no idea what I'm doing at the moment. One minute I fall hard for someone with a beautiful smile, only to retreat emotionally after making love. Half the time I am convinced the person I am caressing as they sleep will be unfaithful to me. The other half I spend trying to convince myself that what I really need is to get laid with just about anyone else.

What a mess.

The truth is that after years of doing my best to avoid being in a truly serious relationship I've come to realize that I am profoundly alone. And not in the I'm-at-home-on-a-Friday-night-and-noone-wants-anything-to-do-with-me-sort of loneliness. No. It's more of an existential loneliness, one that constantly laments not being able to share the essence of a new-found life with another like-minded soul.

Maybe this is just part of the transition. Maybe I'm just feeling my way through a dark room for a bit...until I find the light switch.

I hope so. Wish me luck.

On Getting Laid

[image: http://www.la2day.com/files]

Confession: when I am NOT in a relationship I am just way too focused on having sex. With as many women as possible. All the time. As in every waking hour.

THE SLEEZY ASSHOLE
For the record, I can't quite claim to be the sleezy asshole who constantly lies to chicks in order to hide the fact that I'm sleeping with other chicks. Been there done that. It's an unmanageable, exhausting experience I don't care to repeat.

Nope. I'm the type of sleezy asshole who comes clean with just how much of a sleezy asshole I am. If I am sleeping with you it's because I have sat you down and had The Talk:

“Yes, making love to you was amazing”
“No, I'm not dating anyone right now”
“Yes, I would love to come by again tomorrow”
“BUT no, I don't want anything serious”
“AND yes, I will probably sleep with other chicks.”

The Talk: Scenario A
“Not a problem? Great! See you tomorrow”

The Talk: Scenario B
“Not into it? That's totally cool. I really had a great time. It was nice meeting you.”

TAKING A BREAK
Recently, after a rather serious downward spiral in my personal life, I decided to shelve The Talk for a while. The bottom line is that I have a sneaking suspicion that tons of meaningless sexual escapades would actually undermine some of the progress I have made in other aspects of my life.

Over the past year and a half I have found a certain kind of peace that I never knew was possible. It's a fledgling kind of peace, always struggling to solidify and define itself. Always striving to teach me that I am more than just a piece of paper, more than just a career, more than just a bank account, more than just a selfish asshole. This is a peace that is meaningful to me and I want to protect it any way I can.

This is not to say that I'm completely retiring The Talk. Old habits die hard. But I do think it's important to take some time to figure out how I can live my life without being consumed by something as fleeting and meaningless as getting laid.

I Need a Drink

All of my world is empty tonight. There are feelings somewhere still, but they have scampered off to places I no longer recall. I regret nothing. How could I? The alternative would be to live a lie I am no longer prepared to live. And to die as someone I am not.

You are inside me now. Never forget that.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need a drink...

Jack

Reflections (3): Relationship Checklist

[image: fotothing.com]

JACK'S LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIP CHECKLIST


2006
*Super hot
*Brilliant
*Great in bed (i.e., adventurous in every way)
*From the right kind of background [i.e., someone from a “good family” (i.e., good values) who comes from a certain “class,” and is of a certain “race”]
*Subservient to all of my needs and aspirations
*Willing to put up with any and all of my indiscretions
*Willing to accept that, while I am a “great catch,” I am emotionally closed in some very fundamental ways
*Willing to accept that I will spend a significant time with my friends on a regular basis


2009
*Super hot
*Brilliant
*Great in bed {i.e., adventurous in almost every way [threesomes and other joint third-party activities are now, sadly (but prudently), excluded]}
*From the right kind of background [i.e., someone from a “good family" (i.e., good values) and who is of a certain “race”]
*Willing to accept that I will spend a significant time with my friends on a regular basis
*Anti-materialistic, anti-consumerist and a strong supporter/adherent of a simple living lifestyle
*Not afraid to embrace adventure and world-travel
*Passionate lover of music, literature, and film
*Open to yoga, meditation, and deep spirituality



I guess that's progress.

[On Love post]

[Reflections introductory post]

Reflections (2): The FUCK post

After leaving a highly-paid job, giving away money I don't really need, and selling/donating most of my worldly possessions, I have come to a place in my life where meaningful clarity is attainable. I still have a long way to go but as of now there are certain things that are crystal clear:

FUCK people who claim to garner even an ounce of happiness from purchasing yet another “thing” they don't really need, EVEN AS they head out to a job they actively despise JUST SO that they can have the cash (or credit?) to purchase that very “thing” in the first place.

FUCK business suits, conference calls, billable hours, and making partner.

FUCK people who measure their self-worth by the size of their house, the make of their car, how far they have climbed the corporate ladder, the schools they attended, the restaurants they frequent and/or the people “they know.” These poor, insecure assholes are living in a dreamworld with shaky foundations, their lives ever-dependent on how they measure up against every other poor, insecure asshole in their sad little world of pretentious make-believe.

FUCK having 2 weeks of vacation a year.

FUCK the adrenaline rush you get when you answer a partner's question at 11:00 pm via Blackberry.

FUCK people who can't wait to tell you how late they worked the night before.

FUCK money. Seriously.

FUCK chicks that are suddenly more open to banging you once they realize you have money.

FUCK dudes who are suddenly more respectful when they realize that you attended Harvard Law School.

FUCK office politics, gossipy associates and awkward conversations with senior partners at firm functions.

FUCK having a house so large that you are forced to hire a cleaning person. If you think about it, you are pretty much FUCKED because you don't have the time to clean the place yourself BECAUSE you are working 80 hours a week in order to afford that large house in the first place.

FUCK that horrible feeling you get on Sunday when you know that you have to start all that office bullshit again on Monday.

FUCK that horrible feeling you get on Saturday when you know you have to work on Sunday.



FUCK me for having taken so long to figure it all out.


[Reflections introductory post]

On Sexism: Women Should Know Their Place

[Image: www.adrants.com]

“I would never hit a woman in my life…but I’d shake the shit out of her!” Chris Rock.

Since the inception of Adventures in Voluntary Simplicity I have worked hard to create a forum for readers to express their views openly and without fear of censorship. That is why I’ve decided to devote an entire post to the issue of sexism as it relates to this blog.

While I don’t think this post quite fits the “voluntary simplicity” rubric, I think there is some value in allowing readers the opportunity to express their views on this topic. The reality is that, rightly or wrongly, poor old Jack has been occasionally accused of being downright sexist, both in thoughts and deeds. As a refresher, here are some posts where this sentiment might have come up:

Picture If You Will

Last Night’s Call

A Day in the Life (Part 1)

On Marriage

Dear Mom: FUCK YOU

And let’s not forget the commentary in response to the provocative “Girls Riding Mechanical Bulls are Hot” post. I definitely dug that discussion.

So, where do I come out on this? At the risk of polluting the discussion that may follow, I will say the following:

1. I don’t see myself as sexist in any way. I have, even through some of the darkest, most frivolous times in my life, been a dire-hard supporter of woman's rights. Being sexist is wrong. Period.
   
2. I am, however, aware that I have chosen to embrace a journey that may ultimately realign most if not all of my core beliefs. I can’t discount the possibility that the person I am today won’t be derided by the Jack of tomorrow.
3. I sincerely believe that the bulk of readers who believe I have sexist tendencies are either (a) misinterpreting my often imprecise narrative; (b) not regular readers (in which case they are reading posts in a vacuum and don’t see that I am trying to move away from certain patterns of behavior); or (c) sexually repressed and/or easily offended.
   
4. I absolutely abhor political correctness. It corrupts discourse and is a short-cut to thinking.

And speaking of political correctness, here’s a little bit of wisdom to brighten up your day:

“What's the first thing a woman does when she gets back from the battered women's clinic?
The god damned dishes if she knows what's good for her.”

“A man is driving along in his car when he suddenly gets pulled over by the police. The man pokes his head out of the window and says "what seems to be the problem officer?" The cop looks bluntly at him and says "are you aware that a woman fell out of your car about 2 minutes ago?" The man let out a sigh. "Thank you for that, I thought I had gone deaf!"

And for good measure, here’s one of my favorite Family Guy segments of all time:

Stewie and Horse Sperm

Sharing similar gems about how men might be ignorant, dirty, and all-around assholes is definitely welcome.

Enjoy.

Girls Riding Mechanical Bulls are Hot

I’ve been in Memphis all of 12 hours and I’ve already fallen in love with this place. This city is teeming with history, fantastic music and just enough Jack Daniel's to make you forget your troubles. And boy are the memories kicking in. Anyone remember this song?:

“Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain
W.C. Handy -- won't you look down over me
Yeah I got a first class ticket
But I'm as blue as a boy can be

Then I'm walking in Memphis
Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale
Walking in Memphis
But do I really feel the way I feel”

So, of course, the first thing we did last night was head down Main Street toward Beale. Along the way I noticed how welcoming Memphis was to out-of-towners:

After gorging ourselves on ribs and fries we met up with Elvis at a joint on Beale. And what do you know…the dude was more than happy to sing a couple of tunes before leaving the building:

To cap off the evening, we headed down to Double Deuce to watch drunk girls ride a mechanical bull at a slow rhythmic pace. Hands were touching boobs, unmentionables were shown, several wardrobe malfunctions were instigated, and liquor was everywhere:

Seriously, my dear reader, can life get any simpler?

-------------------

Next up, the requisite pilgrimage to Graceland, a dip into the history of Sun Records (any Johnny Cash fans out there??) and, of course, a drive over to the Lorraine Motel.

Day in the Life (part 6)

Jack leaves the office in a hurry. He wants to get home in time to catch a netflix movie on his laptop.

Not so long ago, he might have left his bike at the office for a chance to indulge in the wonders of alcohol consumption with some of his lawyer friends. Sometimes it was at a bar in Adams Morgan. At other times, Chinatown did the trick. If it was warm, the Georgetown waterfront was the place to be. Regardless, there was nothing like drowning away the evening with a glass of beer in your hand, good conversation and hot chicks all over the place. And there was nothing like indulging Monday through Saturday, if at all possible.

But that was before Jack’s big epiphany. After a couple of years indulging in all things excess, Jack began to feel that something was very wrong. At first he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He was making tons of money, had a bunch of ‘friends’ he could count on, and he was as promiscuous as his free time allowed. “What else could I possibly want?” Jack asked himself.

His first reaction was to indulge even more. He went to more bars, slept with more women, partied until all hours. One day he found himself on a bathroom floor reeking of tequila. Looking up at the ceiling he realized what had been bothering him for so long: he was horribly unhappy.

It was such a simple but powerful epiphany. It was as if he had been using his bare hands to dig sand out of a hole, only to find a shovel at the very bottom. In time, he would come to discover the beauty of simplicity and the happiness that comes with a simplified, deliberate life.

But that’s a story for another day.

A Day in the Life (part 1)

Jack wakes up to the sound of screeching. That damn alarm is still stuck between radio stations. He’s told himself for months now that he should tune that damn thing to something more listenable, like NPR. Hell, one of those hokey “sounds of the rainforest” CDs would be less painful. But he knows that the screeching has been doing its job; as soon as he hears it he is up for good. And being up for good is precisely what Jack needs right now. He is a lawyer without a purpose. And he needs a reason to get up in the morning.

Jack rolls over and almost hits the chick’s head. “Shit!” he tells himself. He forgot she was there. She had called him last night asking the usual: “I was just having a drink at Bar X, blah, blah, blah; “sooo…what are you doing tonight, blah, blah, blah?; “well, I was just thinking…if you weren’t doing anything…blah, blah, blah.” So Jack had invited her over. He had been bored and didn’t really have any plans. And getting laid gave him something to do. At least he could feel something. Even if it was just for a little while.

Jack gets out of bed slowly, being careful to avoid her. He steps lightly on the hardwood floors and walks directly to the bathroom. The linoleum is cold under his bare feet as he turns on the lights. The image in the mirror is almost too much to bear. “You can do this,” he tells himself softly. “Just put one foot in front of the other.”

He runs over to the hamper and picks out a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. As he leaves the bathroom he grabs his backpack and an ipod. Before he can walk down the stairs he hears a groan behind him. “Hey,” she whispers, “don’t you want to come back to bed?” Jack looks over with some compassion. “No. I mean, I can’t. I have to go to work.” He then turns around and walks down to the first floor. “She’s been here before,” he thinks to himself. “She can drop the keys in the mailbox.”

He quickly puts on his bike helmet, grabs his bike and is out the door.

Picture if You Will

I’ve been a bit sporadic with posts these past couple of weeks. I think that’s partly due to how crazy things are at work at the moment. Never underestimate how the reality of the “material” can compromise your desire for change. It’s hard to focus on personal growth/shedding the old to make way for the new/simplifying/downshifting when you have billion-dollar deals on your desk that need attention.

But that’s not the whole story. I feel like I’m in a holding pattern, waiting for specific dates to show up on my doorstep, just so that I can cross something off my list. The worst part is that I’ve caught myself counting the days and noting how many months I have left till December 2009. It is just not healthy. I’m in a rut and it really sucks.

This week was particularly bad. Things on the romantic front took a turn for the worse with someone that I’ve come to care a great deal about. I spent all day yesterday with buddies drinking up a storm all over the city. Spending tons of cash. Feeling sorry for myself. Suddenly everything was spinning out of control and I couldn’t give two shits about The Plan, The Enemy, and, most of all, myself.

PICTURE IF YOU WILL

Picture if you will, my dear reader…

Jack and his friends charge into the bar, like wild bulls. They spot a crowd of girls in the middle of the bar. Jack turns to his friend and says “Dude, they are HOT.” Jack’s friend nods and knows what comes next.

Jack makes his way over to the one in the middle; the porcelain centerpiece; the one all the other girls always congregate around. He’s a bit coy this evening. “Hey. I’m Jack. What’s your name?” She responds hypnotically, “Hey Jack, nice to meet you! I’m External. External Validation.” Jack raises an eyebrow. “You know, I know this is going to sound like a line, but you look super familiar. Do you know Apathy? He was my roommate in college.”

Within a minute Jack’s friends join the party and that shameful, empty business can start all over again. He buys them shots. He mentions a certain law school’s name. He talks about his ‘portfolio’. He buys more shots.

All the while External Validation stares at Jack, full of adoration. Or is it pity. Jack doesn’t care. All he knows is that she is everything he ever wanted.

EPILOGUE

Jack watches the cab pull away. He walks inside his beautiful townhouse, cursing under his breath. It’s 7:00 am and he is still drunk. The emptiness is drowning him. He turns on his laptop, opens up Word and begins typing:

“I’ve been a bit sporadic with posts these past couple of weeks…”