I’m sitting here with Shogo.
You guys remember Shogo. He did boot camps with me for a long time. He’s a social generation guy.
Anyway, we haven’t seen each other in about a year.
So we had a good LA kind of day.
We went and did restorative yoga with a yoga teacher who wouldn’t shut up.
These restorative yoga classes are funny. It’s restorative, you’re laying on a block, you’re laying in a position for 15 minutes. And the yoga instructor has to do a recital. It’s like, “I always think to myself, when is he going to shut up? Is he ever going to shut up?”
Why does he keep talking, when I’m really just trying to meditate here and not listen to somebody?
Then we steamed. That was fun.
We showered at Equinox and headed to the foot massage place. First we had to stop by the vapor store because we live in California and they’ve still got vaporizers.
Anyway, the foot massage place was awesome. It was a place down the street from me. For $20 they pound your feet for an hour or give you a full-body massage. I’m not quite sure exactly how many people live in one house, for them to pay the rent. I always feel so guilty that they’re charging so little, but hey, I give a big tip.
As usual when friends get together, our conversation turned to women. I said to Shogo, “I’ve got to tell you, over the last couple years, I’ve tried to date age appropriate.”
That is women over the age of 40.
“But to tell you the truth,” I said while we were driving, “it’s all fucking broken. Like little pieces.”
Whenever I go on a date with a woman over 40 I almost want to bring a broom and a dustpan.
By the end of the date I can sweep the little bits into a dustpan and put them back together again.
I don’t know what it is, but I am meeting more women over the age of 40 who are terrified of intimacy, even though they crave it the most.
They’re terrified of love, even though that’s what they want the most. And they’re broken into little pieces.
Shogo told me about some 27 year old he met. She asked him, when are you going to come back to New York, I want to see you.
I love it. Women under the age of 30 are vulnerable.
It’s a beautiful thing to see that vulnerability. As a matter of fact, I crave vulnerability. I desire vulnerability. But all I’m getting is fucking shattered pieces of glass thrown at me every single time I go out on a date.
I show up as myself, authentic and real. They love it, and then all of a sudden it becomes a game of cat and mouse.
Or it’s not really cat and mouse, it’s more like beach glass and walking.
I tell you something. Women complain all the time about men. They’re always complaining about men over the age of 40. How they don’t want to commit. Men over the age of 50 are this and that, but tell you the truth, most people I’m finding are fucking broken into little pieces.
Why are we all so afraid? I remember in our 20’s everything was vulnerable and fun and exciting.
I’m fun.
I want vulnerability. I want to enjoy myself. But every single time I connect with somebody and I try to get deep with them, they break into little pieces all over the place.
It’s like a fragile little doll that I need to put back together and glue all the pieces. Remember that? Did you ever shatter a doll when you were a kid, or your sister’s doll?
And you had to take crazy glue and put the pieces back together and this poor psychotic looking doll had all these edgy little pieces on its face?
Well that’s what I feel like with so many women lately.
It’s time to become vulnerable and open again.
Stop the madness. Go for it. Stop distrusting everything. Get out of your story.
You have a really evolved, awesome guy standing in front of you.
Stop breaking into little pieces and thinking the worst.
This has been brought to you as a public service announcement, from men who are tired of scraping up the fucking pieces.
All you women are emailing me nonstop about the unevolved guy you’re with. Well, that’s because of who you choose. You choose the unevolved guy because it’s safer for you.
The evolved guy scares the living shit out of you. In turn, you’d rather be broken with another broken person.
