So Deadpool 2 is amazing and the embodiment of “I didn’t know I wanted to see that until now.” Ryan Reynolds might just replace that Hugh Jackman-sized hole Logan left in my heart. Although, we’ll see how much of that I need after this 150 mile trip up north. As far as whim decisions go, this is up there.
My impetus is literally from a conversation with the guy that washed my car last week. After reciting my story about the fateful whim decision that got me in the Midwest in the first place, I guess he was inspired to let me know about a place where the views and the women mirror each other in breath-taking beauty. Say no more fam.
Granted the pursuit of pretty women is hardly motivation (partially lying here). The tentative plan is museums, food, and maybe a brewery if cider’s in the picture. But such a trip does deserve an overnight effort, so I’ve decided to check out Air BnB for the first time. My host seems nice enough, 3 cats or not. But I won’t be surprised if I’m missing an organ or two on return (if I return). I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll take my chances for a third of the price of a hotel. No need for luxury with solo scouting missions.
It was suggested I download some meeting apps to connect with folks this Memorial Day weekend and it’s not a bad idea except for the part where I’m not keen on it. I’m just as excited as I am anxious about this endeavor, but I’m starting to realize this trip is more so a realignment thing than a “vacation.” I’m not burned out from anything in particular, but I have noticed my creative outlets have been ignored for too long. This blog included. I just thought of a name for such a trip: Muse Missions. It’s time to add some gasoline to this small hearth of passion I’ve got going.
Or I fall into some random group and drink myself silly until I leave. Either are good options to be honest. I’m beating around the bush here though. Admittedly, I’ve been having pangs of “damn, where’s my honey dip?” a lot more often. I don’t know if it’s the weather change or the fairly attractive woman I peeped at the range today, but I feel a small desire developing, much to my chagrin.
Dating is ass. Well, let me quantify that. Entering scenarios with the intent of finding someone to date is lame. I’m totally open to stumbling into a wholesome romance situation. But happenstance may not be on my side this time around as forming connections as an adult is a chore. Hence the appeal of these dating apps. Cuts a lot of the guesswork out of “is this person single?” and “are they stable enough to deal with on a regular basis?” Cheaper than the bar, I suppose. Although I much prefer lounges to bars as the atmosphere smells less of coital desperation and more of enjoying existence with the company of spirits or people. Here’s finding one in this new land.
Thoughts of how much cooler my experiences would be with a +1 are creeping up more than I’d like, but it’s an indicator, at least to me, that I won’t have any trouble with commitment. Not that I ever did because I’m very singular with things I deal with regularly. If it works and I like it, I’m not going anywhere. Simplicity is my jam. Plus I’m lazy, hence my disdain for swiping for hours on end just to pick 10-15 candidates. What a waste. I can’t expect something for nothing though and that’s the shitty part about this dynamic. Most things don’t happen without some force behind it.
Knowing that, I still don’t know what I want to do . It’s a choice between hopping back on the pale, shallow dating horse to gallop into spending a stupid amount of time being picky or staying the course, keep doing what I’m doing and remain alert to opportunities for some wholesome connections at the places I frequent. In the defense of the vanity apps, I was in a totally different space in life at that time. Maybe it’s worth giving some of the more wholesome apps a shot with 2018 Me. Or I can continue riding this #sitback2018 train until it eventually derails.
Regardless of my first-world struggle in the romance game, I have a feeling I’m going to find something on this trip that’s totally off-script. What that is, fuck if I know. But that’s kind of the point of this terrestrial journey right? Running those decisive scissors through the threads of fate. All while trying not to impale yourself in the process. Huh, so that’s what they meant by “don’t run with scissors,” go figure.