The Grass is Greener Where You Water It

My friends were laughing—really laughing.

I’d just told them about the time I had a threesome with a cute woman and her chihuahua (not really, but the chihuahua made for a great punchline). They were rolling.

“Really!?” they asked, hanging onto every word.

I followed up with a couple more woeful dating stories. More laughs. More drinks.

But Dee wasn’t amused.

Dee’s one of my best friends, and she’s heard all my stories. She’s watched women come and go. So, while her husband and our other friends were enjoying my misadventures, she just rolled her eyes.

I get it. My dating choices have never been my strong suit.

Still, I let it go. The stories were for my boys, and we were enjoying some cold craft brews.

The Reality Check

A week later, my buddy Ronaldo pulled me aside.

“Hey man, you might want to make your dating stories sound… less fun. Some people think you’re out there living the life, and it’s causing issues elsewhere.”

I’m not great at social cues, but I got what he meant.

To some, my life looks great—exciting, free, spontaneous. But things aren’t always what they seem.

Work Life: Not as Glamorous as It Sounds

Yes, I work for myself.
Yes, I make my own schedule.
Yes, I do what I want.

But here’s what that really means:

It’s my first year freelancing full-time, and it’s fucking hard.
I’m barely making it. One bad month could put me on the street.
No steady paycheck. No benefits. No security.
I work harder now than I ever have—ever.

Sounds great, doesn’t it?

Dating Life: Not as Fun as It Sounds

I really am trying to find someone.

I’ve had my share of fun, but it hasn’t been without some truly shitty experiences:

Most dates? I’m just paying to talk to a stranger who’ll forget me in a week.
Weirdest moments? A girl cussed me out in public. Another asked me to fuck her in my car (a Toyota Corolla—spoiler alert: it wasn’t happening).
Craziest? One girl licked my asshole. Another wanted me to choke her out in front of Yogurtland.

Yeah, not exactly the “winning” life.

The Lonely Truth

I don’t have someone to come home to—just an empty bed.
I live in a shoebox of an apartment.
Work-life balance? Never happening.
I don’t have anyone who loves me the way I want.
I miss who I was when I was in a happy relationship.

Boo-fucking-hoo, right?

This isn’t about sour grapes. It’s just the unfiltered reality.

I could keep dating for fun, but honestly? I’m done.

And I have been for a while now.