Here’s the problem, in a nutshell: I’ve done too much.
I’ve been to every continent except Antarctica. I hiked the Swiss Alps. I hitch-hiked in Ireland and kayaked in Cinque Terre. I taught AIDS awareness classes in southern Africa. I visited a refugee camp. I saw a man who had been dead for a day. I started a business. I trained a therapy dog. I spent days in a Peruvian orphanage. I moved to a new city and started a new life–three times. I chased a giraffe and was chased by a giant beetle. And I took a group of Thai prostitutes to dinner and listened to their stories.
And now I expect to find a man who I have something in common with.
The more I date, the more I am struck by how few people in my generation (and how few Americans in general) have done anything. Or even want to do anything.
I get asked all the time how I can afford to travel, or to start my business, or to move from place to place. And the simple answer is that I make these things my priority. I forgo the new shoes and the glass of wine and the appetizer and the expensive car…and instead I take myself to Switzerland with my best friend, who has also forgone shoes and wine and so forth.
This is not just about travel, though. It’s about living life. It’s about doing the things you want to do. You want to go back to school? Do it. You want to ride a motorcycle down through South America? Make it happen. You want to volunteer at the hospital? What’s stopping you?
The problem is that we’re so focused on things instead of experiences. Our culture is a culture of cars and clothes and picket fences. But at the end of your life, will you really look back and say “wow, I’m glad I bought that cocktail dress?”
I’m not knocking cocktail dresses. I happen to like them. But you see what I mean?
I’ll give you an illustration–one you’ve seen before: I get email after email and read profile after profile from these men online and so many of them have one thing in common…they feel the need to list their belongings. At first I just thought they were stupid, but then I thought it was sad. Is it all they have?
“Hi, I’m Jon. I have a car, a house, a job, a blender, a toaster…”
Seriously? Who gives a crap, Jon.
What have you done and what do you know, Jon?
Have you traveled the world? Written (and published) a book? Researched the human brain? Climbed the highest peaks in Colorado? Learned how to tango? Picked grapes in a vineyard? Moved across the county on a whim?
No. You’ve just been out drinking every night.
That’s what my generation seems to do. And don’t get me wrong…I’m not against drinking by any means. In fact, I’m a wine snob. What I’m pointing out is that drinking isn’t worth all your money or all your time. When you look back ten years from now, would you feel prouder knowing you’d partied every weekend or that you’d gone an African safari, taken an art class, started a blog, raised a puppy, volunteered for an organization you believe in?
I guess this is the point: you’ve only got so many years on earth. Don’t you want to do the things that matter, to leave a legacy, to look back and think that you had a full, rich life? And don’t give me that bullshit about not being able to afford the experiences you want. Don’t buy those shoes or drink that bottle of wine right now and I guarantee you, you can make your dreams happen.
Like Rolf Potts says in his book, Vagabonding, “Out of an insane duty to fear, fashion and monthly payments on things we don’t really need–we quarantine our travels.”
It’s not just about travel. Maybe you don’t want to travel. Fine. But what do you want to do? Learn Spanish (which is spoken all over the U.S.)? Teach a class? Start a business? Design a home? Do that. Do something. Be interesting.
That’s where I’ll leave you. Be interesting.
Especially if you want to date me. Also, stop telling me how many cars you have. No one effing cares.
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