This is my journal entry from November 8, 2025, part of my daily autobiography Divorce Day — my real, unedited days, published in order.
Today is my ex-wife’s birthday, and I built a full schedule for myself so I wouldn’t just sit around wallowing while she and the kids go glamping. I was up early and over at the house first thing to spend a couple of hours with the kids and my ex-wife before they left. When it was time for them to go, I helped pack a bit—cleaned the grill, loaded it into the car, and said goodbye. Then I headed to power flow at my yoga studio.
The studio felt strangely quiet today. I didn’t see many of the people I usually recognize, though a few familiar faces were there. I moved my mat to get out of the sun and kept thinking about how packed and electric the room felt last week, compared to how sparse it was today. The energy was noticeably different.
Right after yoga, I headed to a speed dating event. I’d gone back and forth about whether I wanted to attend, mostly because it was at the Whiskey Exchange, but I decided to lead with curiosity, inspired by the book I’m reading, Seek, which is all about curiosity. I wondered what might happen if I just showed up. I put on the gray polo I’d picked up at a thrift store for six dollars, a pair of nicer shorts my sister bought me in 2018—still the same waist size I had in high school—and my Air Jordans. I drove downtown, found a parking spot right out front, sat in the car for a few minutes scrolling through dating apps, then got out right at 2:00 p.m.
Four guys showed up and one woman, who was at least fifty pounds overweight. Then two more women arrived, both also significantly overweight. That made four guys and three overweight women. Not exactly the dream scenario. One thing that helped was ordering a mocktail from the bartender, who’s six foot eight. I was so curious I had to ask. He made me a ginger-beer-based mocktail, and I asked a bunch of questions to confirm it was actually non-alcoholic. He said it’s basically concentrated root beer that tastes like ginger. It was good, and I sipped it slowly through the whole session.
The two women I ended up talking with were both doctors. The conversations themselves were genuinely good, especially with one of them, and that’s what made the whole thing frustrating. I kept thinking how compatible these women would be if I felt more physical attraction. One of them is a pediatrician with a relatively reasonable schedule. She played tennis and swam in high school. She likes to read. She’s very family-oriented. On paper, she’s incredibly compatible with me. And yet I just don’t feel the physical attraction I’d want, and I wish that came easier to me.
Part of me kept thinking that if I were attracted to a wider range of body types, dating would be a lot easier. Instead, I’m drawn to women I find physically attractive, which means competing with a lot of other men. Maybe someday my preferences will broaden, but right now this is where I’m at. I’m just being honest about that.
What made it even more annoying was hearing one of the women explain that she used to be very active in high school, but school and work took over and she didn’t have time anymore. That really rubbed me the wrong way. To me, school and work should never outrank taking care of your body. You live in your body all day, every day. Letting it slide that far because you’re busy just feels like badly misplaced priorities. I know there are different ways to be healthy, but for me, staying physically active is a high priority.
I only ended up talking to two of them. When the third rotation came up, I sat out. The remaining woman left before even talking to me, apparently deciding she didn’t want to spend twenty or thirty minutes in conversation. The sessions were long—this event was supposed to last two hours—so each conversation was a real time commitment. I figured she either wasn’t interested in me or didn’t want to invest the time. I didn’t take it personally.
I ended up having more fun talking with the guys than with the women. The two facilitators, a couple of the other men, and I stood around talking for another twenty or thirty minutes, laughing and trading stories. The facilitators mentioned they found the gig through an app called InstaWork and were getting paid $22 an hour just to show up and run the event. I had to laugh at that. I paid to be there, and they were getting paid to be there. What a deal. I took one guy’s referral code, and another man who had been speed dating gave me his phone number and told me about another event he was planning to attend.
At this point, I’m not sure how many more speed dating events I want to do. The quality of women hasn’t been great so far, and these events are a serious time commitment. Still, I drove home feeling glad I’d gone. My curiosity was satisfied, and I have another tantra speed dating event tomorrow, so the experiment continues.
When I got home, I immediately got changed and headed to the tennis club for the Good People Good Vibes charity tournament. I arrived and quickly linked up with an older man at my tennis club, in his seventies, who was ready to warm up right away. The tournament was a fundraiser for disabled kids, raising money for specialized bikes that cost about $2,500 each and dramatically improve mobility. The entry fee was pay-what-you-want. I donated $33 and felt pretty good about it—until I glanced at the donation sheet and realized most people were giving at least $50, with plenty dropping $100. It really drove home how relative generosity is. I’m often in the top tier when it comes to handing money to homeless people on the street, but for organized charity events, people really open their wallets. It’s interesting where each of us chooses to be generous.
The tournament was doubles. I signed up for the 3.5-and-below men’s bracket and immediately wondered if I should have gone for 4.0. That thought disappeared fast. As soon as we started playing, I began getting absolutely fucked. I was grateful I hadn’t signed up higher, because I ended up being the weakest men’s player in the entire tournament. Three courts, four players per court, rotating partners every match. I lost more matches than anyone else. If there had been a trophy for biggest loser, I would’ve taken it home.
At intermission, they brought out free food from The Root & Clay, which was fantastic—a plant-based chickpea sandwich with chips. I crushed one of those and felt revived. I was also relieved that this was doubles and not singles. Even though I struggled, we still got in around thirty individual games, playing no-ad scoring so every deuce ended on a single deciding point.
What really stood out was how bad I am at doubles compared to singles. My athleticism carries me in singles, but in doubles it’s almost useless. I have very little strategy, poor positioning, and not much instinct for teamwork on the court. Still, I had a good time. I didn’t get too frustrated, which felt like progress in itself. One of my partners, though, had the opposite experience. He’d swing wildly between playing incredible tennis and completely falling apart, showing the widest gap between potential and performance I’ve seen in a while. Even so, it was a good night. I showed up. I played hard. I laughed. I lost a lot. And I left knowing I’m still learning—on the court, in dating, and in life.
I see a guy from the tennis ladder at the tournament—the one I played with a few weeks ago—and I meet his girlfriend. I end up having a lot of genuinely good conversations throughout the night. It feels surprisingly comforting. My ex-wife and the kids are out glamping for her birthday, and I’m not there, but I’m also not alone. I have good company, laughter, and movement around me, and that matters more than I expected.
When I get home, I take the dogs out for a short walk, then fall right back into swiping hard on the dating apps. I can feel how inefficient and compulsive it is, and I know I need a better system for this. After the walk, I go see my mom for a bit, then head back home.
Once I’m back, I end up watching porn for the first time in quite a while. It’s extremely stimulating, and it catches me a little off guard how strong the pull is.
I remember how critical I’ve been of porn over the past few years, which made sense when I was married. Watching porn doesn’t line up very well with having sex every other night—or more. But now I’m alone in my own place, and suddenly I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe it makes sense now. Maybe it doesn’t. I honestly don’t know what’s true or false anymore in this area. What I do know is that it was very stimulating—more stimulating than almost anything else I’ve done lately. And now I’m curious what effect that’s going to have tomorrow.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.