This is my journal entry from November 21, 2025, part of my daily autobiography Divorce Day — my real, unedited days, published in order.
I played tennis with a tennis partner again this morning. We had played a couple of weeks ago and ground through three full sets in about two and a half hours, so this time felt merciful by comparison. After dropping the kids off at school, I arrived at the courts and, thankfully, we managed to finish three sets in under two hours. We both had stretches where we completely forgot how to play. He took the first set 6–1, I came back and won the second 6–2, and then he crushed me in the third 6–0. Still, it was a solid workout, and we both enjoyed the effort. I headed home afterward, took a shower, and sat down to work on my Eventbrite events.
Over the next three hours, I created nine more events, then ate a massive salad and got ready to pick the kids up from school. Somewhere along the drive, I noticed that I didn’t feel good. I was grateful in that moment that I had resisted the temptation to go back on dating apps after writing a book called It’s Not You, It’s the Dating Apps. That book keeps reminding me, very clearly, that those platforms are not for me and that there are other things I need to be doing. After picking the kids up, I reflected on how I was feeling and realized that the activity I had just spent hours on wasn’t really the best I have to offer. What I keep noticing is that when I’m doing something meaningful, something that turns me on and feels aligned with who I am, I usually feel good. When I drift away from what I’d call my most joyous self, the bad feeling shows up fast. The switch can happen almost instantly.
As I sat with that, I thought, maybe the core idea here is that books are it, and this frantic creation of events isn’t going to work the way I want it to. I decided I’d give the events some time to sell and see what happens, but I also found myself spiraling into thoughts about how worthless my books might be. I’ve self-published all of these books and haven’t made any real money from them so far. Still, I held onto the possibility that something worthwhile could come out of all of this. I brought the kids home, spent a little time with them and my ex-wife, then headed to my AA meeting. Once again, only a handful of us showed up, and we wrapped things up early. I had already said goodnight to the kids because I was planning to go to a local kirtan ceremony that evening.
After the meeting, I gave two of the guys a ride home since they needed it and it was on the way to the kirtan anyway. I hadn’t really planned to go straight there—I wanted to have a snack and pack up my table—but that plan fell apart. I dropped both of them off at their houses, feeling about as tired as I usually feel during the day. My mood was low, and it all seemed to spiral out of those hours spent creating events and wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do with my life. How am I going to make enough money to afford a $3,000-a-month house that we’re going to look at again tomorrow, this time with the family? With nothing better to do and no real alternative in front of me, I kept driving toward the kirtan, figuring I might as well get there early and see how it feels.
I called my sponsor twice today, and he didn’t answer either time. I arrived at the venue about twenty minutes early and sat in my car for a while, and slowly I started to feel a little better. Getting there had required a full internal negotiation. Right as I was about to turn onto the final street, I was ready to bail. I thought about just going home, relaxing, hanging out with my ex-wife and the kids, maybe spending time with my mom. I told myself I didn’t need this prayer-chanting shit tonight. I assumed it probably wouldn’t involve meeting anyone, probably wouldn’t be that good, and honestly, I just wasn’t feeling it. Still, I was already there, so I figured I might as well pull into the parking lot and see how it felt. After sitting there for a few minutes, I said, fuck it, and got out of the car. Maybe I’d feel better doing this. I seriously doubted I’d feel any better if I just went home.
As soon as I got out, I saw the host of the ceremony struggling to carry way too much stuff. He dropped a surge protector and was trying to scoop it up awkwardly with his sandal, so I picked it up for him. We walked in together, and I started to feel a little better almost immediately. This time, I brought in just a handful of my books, maybe fifteen of them, carrying them in one hand and setting them on half of a table. That felt right. The woman I met from the spiritual community was there with her boyfriend, and she had her full herbal remedies setup out. I was feeling slightly better, though still not great. I figured that if I was going to feel bad, I might as well feel bad here. At least there was a chance I’d meet some new people or give away a few books.
I ended up talking with a friend’s partner, and it turned out he knew a former close friend of mine, someone I had been close with years ago. He and I had done a couple life coaching sessions, a men’s circle, and even a viral GoldenEye stream together. We started reminiscing about him, and it felt surprisingly good to talk with someone who knew him back then. We both missed him and really appreciated the role he played in our lives. I found myself wondering whether he ever still thought about us, because we clearly still thought about him.
When the ceremony started, nothing special happened for me right away. I sat down in a chair on the back left side and realized I wasn’t really feeling the singing tonight. I decided I’d just try to receive, let whatever good vibes were there wash over me without forcing anything. I noticed that my mind wasn’t as toxic as it often is, which felt like a good sign. Maybe I could actually have a decent time. During the first song, I alternated between closing my eyes and letting the sound sink in, and opening them to look around the room. That’s when I started noticing a woman a little to my front right, a couple of rows up on the blankets. She didn’t seem to have come with anyone, and she was gorgeous. She had brown hair tied back in a small ponytail, green yoga pants, and a grayish long-sleeved shirt. I remember thinking, wow, this girl is beautiful. Who is she? I’d never met her before. I had seen her walking around a bit earlier, but sitting there by herself, she kept pulling my attention back to her.
During the second song, she stood up and started dancing in front of me. At that point, I thought, holy shit, this girl is hot. I kept wondering who she was, and I could feel some energy coming back into me. I started to feel a little better. Her partner played a slow, relaxing third song on the guitar, which I appreciated, and by the time the fourth song started, it felt right to stand up. I got up, placed my hands out in mountain pose, and focused on receiving whatever was there. I didn’t feel like dancing or singing, but I was open to taking in the good vibes.
As I kept noticing her, I found myself silently asking her, almost pleading in my head, please come dance in front of me again. And then she did. At first she moved slightly off to the left, but then she drifted back and ended up dancing directly in front of me, maybe an arm’s length away. I felt like I was about to pass out. She was unbelievably beautiful, and the way she moved was mesmerizing. I kept alternating between closing my eyes to feel the music and the energy, then opening them just long enough to steal another glance at her, barely able to believe what was happening.
At some point, people began forming a line, all standing shoulder to shoulder with their arms around one another. She moved to the end of the line. Instantly, a scene from Battlestar Galactica flashed through my mind, where the captain of the Pegasus tells Starbuck that when the time comes, don’t flinch. I thought, this is it. There was maybe a two-second window before someone else stepped into that spot next to her, and I took it. I moved right beside her and put my arm around her shoulder. She slid her arm along my lower back, resting it around my waist, and my whole body lit up. I was so turned on I felt dizzy. It was overwhelming, electric, almost unreal. I hadn’t spoken a word to her. I didn’t even know her name. I just kept thinking, what the hell is happening right now?
After our little love line kept dancing, another woman stepped in beside me, making it easier to just blend back into the group instead of being stuck on the end. When we finally had a moment, I asked her name, and she told me. From that moment on, I was fully committed to talking to her as much as I could. We sat back down as the host wrapped up the event. Then I noticed the guy sitting next to her—mid-sixties maybe, with full-length gray hair down to his shoulders—leaning in and starting a very deep, animated conversation with her. I decided to be polite and give them space, even though my mind was already rehearsing what I wanted to say to her. This week, I told myself, I’m not hesitating. I’m going to walk right up to her, tell her how gorgeous she is, tell her I can barely pay attention to anyone else when she’s around, and see where it goes. No matter the outcome, I was too curious not to follow through. I had to see what would happen.
That guy could really talk. I sat down, stood up, wandered around aimlessly, feeling awkward and useless. Thankfully, the woman I met had her back turned to me most of the time, sparing me the self-consciousness. Eventually, I got pulled into a conversation about my books with three women, all of whom ended up taking a copy. Then, finally, the guy stood up and moved away, leaving her alone for a moment. Almost perfectly timed, the women I was talking to wrapped up their conversation just as she stood up from her yoga mat. I thought, good timing, ladies. Thank you. I moved over to her immediately and started talking. The guy reappeared out of nowhere, trying to reinsert himself into the conversation, but I managed to get just enough words in. I told her how beautiful she was, how excited I was to finally talk to her, and that I had waited until she was free because I wanted to respect her conversation. I told her I’d really like to talk more.
Within five minutes of talking to her, we had exchanged phone numbers. Then the gray-haired guy was back. He said he hated to interrupt, which almost made me laugh out loud, because it looked exactly like he loved interrupting. I hadn’t interrupted earlier—that was the whole point—but apparently “hating to interrupt” didn’t stop him at all. On the surface, I stayed polite, friendly even, but underneath there was a clear awareness of what was happening. I saw him trying to get in my way, and I let him, mostly because I felt confident that at the pace things were moving, I was going to close this out anyway. So I figured, go ahead, take your shot.
He led her over toward the edge of the water and sat there talking with her for another twenty or thirty minutes. She was supposed to help clean up, so I stepped in and did it for her. I put tables away, moved chairs, carried my books back out to my car, went to the bathroom, and still, when I came back, he was talking. I couldn’t believe it. Finally, with only about ten minutes left before we had to be out of the venue, I decided I hated to interrupt too. I walked over and just stood there, saying nothing, positioning myself to her left and his right. She glanced at me a couple of times and smiled. He didn’t look at me at all. I stood there thinking, I hate to interrupt, bro, but here we are.
Eventually, he ran out of steam. It was obvious she’d had enough of listening to him, and he finally backed off and made space for me. That’s when I thought, all right, let’s see if I can pull what some of the guys in those books call an instant date. My plan was simple: walk her out to her car and talk with her as long as she was willing to talk with me that night. We headed out together, and she had a nice blanket with her that she carries around. I had thought there might be a little beach we could walk along at this location, but instead there were two benches overlooking the water. We stood there talking by one of the benches for about twenty minutes, and then she asked if I wanted to sit down. The bench was wet, but thankfully she had brought her blanket, so we spread it out and sat.
We ended up sitting there for about an hour. As we talked, I kept thinking, this is exactly why I was willing to be patient earlier. I had a feeling that guy could have his time talking to her, because I was going to be the one with her at the end of the night. The conversation was incredibly deep, touching on all kinds of aspects of our lives. She told me she’s a private person, so I’m not going to put the details of those topics here, but it was one of those rare conversations that feels open, honest, and real. At some point, we started holding hands. She placed her hand on top of mine and showed me what she likes about a massage. I had set that up by asking her what she thought about safety and attraction.
She talked about liking safe men, and I told her I understood that. I also said that while women want safety, there’s also an attraction to men who make moves and pursue, and that sometimes that element can feel a little dangerous. I asked how she saw the balance between boundaries, respect, and safety, and mystery, romance, and making moves. That opened the door for her to explain that she hates it when a guy just lunges at her. She said she would much rather a man ask if he can kiss her instead of creating some awkward, aggressive moment. She also said she prefers holding hands before kissing. So we held hands, sitting there on that bench by the water, for about an hour.
She got me emotional enough that I was tearing up a little while talking about my early sobriety. By the time we wrapped up, it was around 11:45 p.m., which meant we had spent a little under an hour and a half together, probably closer to an hour and twenty minutes of just the two of us talking. Eventually, she said she needed to use the bathroom, and since there weren’t any around, it was time to head out. I walked her back to her car, and she gave me a hug. I could feel very clearly that this wasn’t the moment to try to make out or even ask if she wanted a kiss. Ending it with a hug felt right, like it completed the experience without forcing anything.
Right before we parted, she said something that really stayed with me. She told me she didn’t feel like she knew me well enough to say it, but it was what she was feeling anyway. She said she was proud of me. I had shared my story about AA and sobriety with her, and she explained that she’s looking for a man who has his life together. She doesn’t want a fixer-upper. At this point, I’m not a fixer-upper. I have my shit together. That’s what she left me with: “I’m proud of you.” She also said she would wait for me to reach out to her, which immediately had my mind planning how that was going to go the next day.
When I got back into my car, I noticed something different from a similar experience I’d had about a month earlier. Instead of feeling euphoric, I felt kind of sad. I already missed being with her. There was also a sadness in knowing that the next phase is always uncertain. There’s a real chance that this could drop off, that this might be as good as it gets. I don’t know the odds of me texting her the next day and her being genuinely excited to go out and follow through, but there’s a significant chance it doesn’t make it past that point. At the same time, I thought back to just a couple of hours earlier, when I didn’t know this woman at all and she was dancing in front of me. If you had told me then that I’d spend an hour and a half talking with her one-on-one, holding her hand, and sharing intimate parts of our lives, I would have been terrified and euphoric just thinking about it. And yet that’s exactly what happened.
That was my best-case scenario. I wouldn’t even say hooking up would have been better, because a woman I respect wouldn’t want to have sex with me immediately after meeting me. This was it. This was exactly what I could have hoped for. The woman I met was very physical in a natural, comfortable way—touching my arm, mirroring me, being open, encouraging, and giving clear positive signals. From our conversation, it felt like we were highly compatible, even though there are certainly things that would need to be discussed and possible reasons she might not want to go out again, or reasons she might worry that I wouldn’t text her. Still, the compatibility felt strong. I kept thinking, what’s the best that could happen? And the honest answer was right there. If she were my new girlfriend, that would be incredible. This was exactly the kind of woman I could imagine as my next girlfriend, my ex-wife, the mother of future children. This was it.
What feels so good as I start driving home is the reflection that this is what the Universe can do. I call my mom on the way home since I didn’t get to see her that day, and I tell her some of what happened. From that wider perspective, it feels like the Universe has a practically unlimited supply of women like this. I think back to just the day before, how excited I was talking with the woman from the spiritual community, and how I even got a few minutes with her again tonight. She told me she liked my outfit, said the shirt looked good on me and matched my eyes, which I wouldn’t have thought of on my own. Driving home, it hit me: this is two days in a row where I’ve had hours-long conversations with women I felt very compatible with and genuinely enjoyed being around.
Of course, she has a boyfriend, which is a very real limitation right now, and it remains to be seen where things go with the woman I met. Still, it all feels like it happened so fast. The woman I met even expressed some concern about how recent my divorce and separation are. At the same time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that women are sort of circling me right now, and eventually one of them is going to decide to step in close. My responsibility is to make sure I get to choose who’s in that circle and who’s actually eligible. I’m grateful that I’ve kept my space open, because she is incredibly beautiful, and there’s so much about her that I already love. What I notice, though, is that the excitement feels grounded. It’s more like, this could go really well, rather than some frantic, uncontained high.
Even if nothing else ever happens with her, this night was beautiful as a standalone experience. At the very least, it feels like we planted strong seeds of friendship. What stands out to me is how much I loved her response and how much I liked my own behavior. I clearly communicated my interest in her. I made authentic comments about how taken I was with her, and she responded positively. I was patient while that guy talked her ear off, trusting that my moment would come, and it did. Sitting with all of that on the drive home felt really good.
By the time I was getting ready for bed, I had so much energy that I was literally shaking. This whole night felt like another reminder of how close I came to missing something really special. I had seriously considered not going at all. I couldn’t even have comprehended how much joy I would have missed by staying home. Missing that conversation would have sucked. What I’m intending now is to keep putting myself in position for moments like this to happen going forward. I’m especially glad I didn’t give in to the temptation to swipe on dating apps, because I’m almost certain the energy of doing that would have sabotaged this night and the connection I had with her. I’m excited and a little nervous to see what happens tomorrow. It feels like I’ve just gone up the first big hill of a roller coaster. The drop is coming next, and it’ll be fun either way. I’ll see how it goes.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.