Lately, I've been trying to rewrite my personal philosophy on life. Things are going great right now with work and my finances. I'm at a very unhealthy weight though, and have started working out to get back in good enough shape to start working towards an awesome fitness goal, like a triathlon or adventure race. Anywho, while looking at the things I want to accomplish I've started to realize just how much time I've wasted giving my precious time to people who never appreciated it or reciprocated. A lot of these people were women I had relationships with, falling somewhere in the spectrum between FWB and LTR. I used to worry so much about finding love, but I've finally come to terms with the human nature I've seen. It kind of hurts knowing that the "White Picket Fence" life most likely will never exist for me like it does for many of my friends back in the Midwest, but I've been taking my own path for so long I think it's time to embrace it and really thrive. I wanted to express my perspective as an ode, and wrote out a little poem when I got off work. It felt good to get these thoughts down.

An Ode to us Single Men Born in the Late 80s

Oh what a joy it was, living before the ‘net.

Our parents prepped us for a world that soon the world’d forget.

We didn’t have a pocket of answers, unknowns were met with a shrug.

Our time was spent with early mentors, like Rocko, Arnold, and Doug.

There didn’t seem to be much of a worry, about how we’d turn out.

Our soccer moms and trophy dads led lives that would be our route.

But things began to progress, and our young gaze became the prize.

Screens began their great attack, their goal to conquer our eyes.

Boxes of X and Stations of Play, their bounty sated our thirst,

Became escapes from normal space, where masculinity had just been cursed.

“Man up,” “Be Nice,” “Grow a pair. “But don’t articulate what you want!”

You’re weak, You’re poor, You’re creepy, those we pine for began to taunt.

It’s not enough we learn rejection, screenshots now capture our shame.

How dare we try to win in this world, maybe we’ll read “The Game.”

The pill was red, it beckoned us, we swallowed with a frown.

We negged, we kino’d, we peacocked, secretly lamenting all over town.

Our fake personas sauntered, giving the girls all our fake smirks.

The worst part about our successes were all the stupid social tuning worked.

AHA! We thought. We’ve found the secret. It’s time to find my mate.

The silly actions we memorized would surely lead to a great date.

But more progress came along as we left college, war, and home.

The Tinder caught fire on our phones and sex began to roam.

Now we needed new and better tools to ply our ever shifting trade.

We got filters, angles, and pro-shots in an arms race to get laid.

Then the Insta came in hot, its prophecy began to unfold.

Attention became a currency, and the Unknown the new cuckold.

Now all eyes are locked to the top, the best of the best of the best.

Those without a following are taught to put their balls under arrest.

Now we need a personal brand, a six pack, a lambo and six-figures too.

“You’re a pretty awesome guy… buy all my premium snaps for $99.92!”

So here we are, in our thirties, now the jesters of our domain.

We’re basic dudes staring out at the rules, and not seeing much to gain.

“Where have all on the good men gone?” a new refrain emerges.

We roll our eyes and keep on walking, their queries don’t tempt our urges.

For now we’re content, to build our life and fill our banks with treasure.

We’ve decided to live an amazing life, one that society can't seem to measure.