Everything&Nothing: A Collection of Thoughts

Every few months, there’s another think piece or viral post blaming unwanted pregnancies on a “lack of sex education.” It’s one of those lines people repeat because it sounds compassionate — like we’re just one PowerPoint presentation away from fixing decades of bad decisions. But come on. Let’s be honest. Nobody over the age of twelve doesn’t know how babies are made. Everyone knows what causes pregnancy. Everyone knows where STDs come from. It’s not a lack of education. It’s a lack of accountability. --- The Lie of Ignorance People love to pretend that recklessness comes from not knowing better. It’s a convenient excuse because it softens responsibility. “They just didn’t know.” “They weren’t taught.” “We need more education.” No. Most people know exactly what they’re doing. They just hope they won’t have to deal with the outcome. We act like everyone needs a graduate course in biology to figure this out, when the average fifteen-year-old can find porn faster than they ca...

I saw a post the other day that’s been floating around online — a guy supposedly made a fake Tinder profile using the photo of an extremely attractive man. Nobody knows who the photo actually belonged to, but that wasn’t the point. What mattered was the bio. It read: > “I have a criminal record because I was abusive to women.” No sugar-coating. No excuses. Just a blunt confession — the kind of thing you’d expect to end a dating profile instantly. But instead, within 48 hours, that fake account had racked up over 800 matches. When I first saw it, I wasn’t shocked — just curious. I questioned how real it was, sure. Maybe it was a social experiment. Maybe the numbers were exaggerated. But even if it wasn’t real, I had no trouble believing it could be. Because everything we know about human behavior — and dating apps — says it’s completely possible. --- Looks First, Logic Later If the image used in that article is the same one from the Tinder profile, I get it. You could eas...

There’s this conversation that never dies: “Money doesn’t matter in dating.” Yeah, sure. And abs don’t matter at the beach either, right? --- The “If You’re Broke, Don’t Date” Reality People swear money doesn’t matter, then side-eye you the moment your debit card screams DECLINED. 1 in 5 daters say financial stability is more important than appearance. Translation: you can be ugly, just don’t be broke. 46% of Gen Z admit they’d choose financial stability over love. Imagine Romeo sliding into Juliet’s DMs like: “Sorry girl, but you don’t got that 401(k).” And 51% of singles would dump someone for “financial incompatibility.” Which is just a fancy way of saying: “Your Amazon addiction is not my problem.” --- Who Marries Whom, and Why It’s not just about who swipes right. It’s about who actually sticks around after the honeymoon phase (and by honeymoon, I mean those first three DoorDash dates). Husbands who make much more than their wives? Divorce rate is lower. Wives who make...

One of the most infuriating things about hearing white conservatives cry about affirmative action, “woke hiring,” or the Civil Rights Act is this: they have no clue those very laws are the reason they still have jobs. These are the same people who rant about “reverse racism” while waving their MAGA flags, but without anti-discrimination protections, a whole lot of them would be completely unemployable. --- The Civil Rights Act Didn’t Just Protect Black People When the Civil Rights Act of 1964 outlawed discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin, it didn’t stop at protecting minorities. It covered everyone. That means white people, too. And when you’re the majority demographic in the U.S., guess who ends up reaping the most protection? Yep—white people. They benefited by sheer numbers more than anyone else. --- Veterans and Political Affiliation The irony cuts even deeper when you look at MAGA veterans and right-wing employees. Veteran status: Laws...

I keep telling myself I’m not desperate for love. But then again… I’m also desperate for love. It’s complicated, like my relationship with carbs or my commitment to going to the gym “next week.” Here’s the thing: my little brother, twelve years younger than me, just got married. He’s barely old enough to rent a car without paying that under-25 tax, and meanwhile he’s already found his forever person. I’m 37, creeping up on 40, and my biggest romantic accomplishment this year was splitting an Uber Eats order with myself. It feels like life is one big game of musical chairs, and the music stopped years ago. Everyone else is paired up, sitting comfortably, holding hands and sipping pumpkin spice lattes — and I’m the guy still standing, holding a plate of nachos, wondering how the hell I got left out. And don’t get me started on people’s advice. “You’ve always got friends!” Yeah, because what I really want is more dudes to argue with me on Discord about why pineapple does belong on...

All I wanna do is love you, sweet girl of my dreams. Not in the storybook way, with fireworks that fade by morning, but in the kind of quiet devotion that leaves no doubt when the smoke clears. You are the peace I never found in a thousand sleepless nights, the one thing my heart recognizes without second-guessing. Sweet girl, I’ve seen enough of this world to know most things break, most things lie, most things leave. But you— you feel like the one thing that could anchor me, the one thing worth standing still for. So I don’t offer perfect. I don’t offer forever in glittering words. I offer the truth of me— raw, flawed, unshaken— and a love that will not run. Sweet girl of my dreams, let me be the arms you fall into, even when the world has nothing else to give.

Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t care what grown adults choose to do with their lives. You want to sell pictures of yourself online? Go for it. You're not my daughter, my sister, or my partner—your choices are none of my concern. But I refuse to sit quietly while society plays dumb and acts like it didn’t build this OnlyFans circus from the ground up. For the past decade, we’ve been force-fed this narrative where sex work is now “empowerment.” OnlyFans became the main stage for this hustle, with every post accompanied by a round of applause and a “Yasss Queen.” But here’s the kicker: when men dare to consume the very content these women proudly post, they’re immediately labeled perverts, creeps, and predators. Somehow, the paying customer is the villain, and the supplier is a goddess. Let me ask the uncomfortable question: if OnlyFans is a legitimate career path, why is the paying customer a pervert? You don’t call people perverts for buying coffee from Starbucks, do you? The ...

  This Independence Day, let’s talk cost. Because every firework is a receipt, every flag is a price tag—and freedom? That shit ain't free. It was bought, sold, and leveraged like a subprime mortgage. Patriotism in America is just capitalism with fireworks. Every July 4th, we drape ourselves in flags made in China, buy red-white-and-blue Doritos, and pretend that a grill on sale from Home Depot is a show of national loyalty. Walmart rolls out 'Freedom' deals, Amazon pushes 'Independence Essentials,' and Budweiser drops commercials more emotional than a Hallmark funeral. Meanwhile: - Firework shows are funded by defense contractors like Lockheed Martin and Raytheon - The average 10-minute fireworks display costs cities $15,000–$100,000—while public schools beg for pencils - Politicians wave flags while slashing veteran benefits and gutting SNAP programs - The “support the troops” crowd can’t name a single VA reform they backed - The average American househ...

  Every nation has its myths. Ours just happens to be bulletproof, student-debt-backed, and statistically full of holes. Welcome to America: home of the brave, land of the statistically embarrassing. We lead the world in: - Incarceration rate - Military spending - Gun deaths per capita And trail behind in: - Healthcare access - Paid parental leave - Education quality Let’s throw some fact grenades: - 70% of Americans live paycheck to paycheck - Medical debt is the #1 cause of bankruptcy - Black maternal mortality is 2-3x higher than white women - CEOs make 400x more than the average worker - The U.S. spends more per capita on healthcare than any other nation, yet ranks 30th in life expectancy - The U.S. has over 400 million civilian-owned guns—more than people—and still can't figure out school safety - 1 in 6 children in the U.S. lives in poverty Meanwhile, we celebrate Independence Day without blinking at the irony: - 1776: Declaration of Independence is si...

  They say America is the land of the free—but only if you read the fine print, dodge the red tape, and survive the algorithm watching your every move. You’re free to protest—unless it’s too loud, too Black, too queer, or too inconvenient for white suburbia. You’re free to vote—unless your polling place mysteriously closed, your ID is questioned, or your district was carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Let’s talk about "freedom" in the modern sense: - Freedom of speech? Sure. But employers monitor your social media and cops trap protestors in confined spaces using a tactic called 'kettling'—just for chanting too loud or too long. - Freedom of movement? Unless you're poor, undocumented, or Black in a traffic stop. - Freedom to exist? Ask trans youth in certain states if that still applies. And then there’s economic freedom—aka, the myth of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, which is hard to do when they sold your boots to pay off student loans. “We ...

I didn’t lose her. She was never mine to begin with. What I did lose was time, energy, thoughtfulness—and, if I’m being honest, a little bit of dignity—trying to get close to someone who never really opened the door. Back at the end of April, I finally asked out a woman I work with. Actually asked. No games, just: “Hey, I think you’re pretty. Wanna go out sometime?” She said she’d like that. The next day, she tells me to keep it quiet at work and drops this curveball: her kid is on house arrest and needs 24/7 supervision. That sounded... complicated. Part of me considered backing off. But I figured—how would I feel if someone walked away from me over something I couldn’t control? So I stayed open. Figured we could at least talk, maybe grab lunch, hang out at work. She started calling me after she got off work—couple times a week. Our convos flowed. She mentioned one day she doesn’t always stop to eat, so I started bringing her snacks. Nothing major. Grapes, a muffin, an ene...

  “This is the life I’ve earned.” I’m 37. Single. Broke. Living at home. Driving a car I didn’t want. And despite everything I’ve done, this is where I ended up. I work hard. Always have. My parents drilled that into me. Doesn’t matter if I like the job or not—I give 100%. Every time. No shortcuts. No slacking. Just clock in, show up, do the work. I've done it at retail stores, restaurants, corporate contracts, HR firms, freelance gigs—you name it. And after all that, I’m still making around $17/hour. This… is the life I’ve “earned.” I’ve got a degree in Business. Minor in HR. I’ve worked in recruiting. I know the tricks. The buzzwords. The algorithms. I’ve read all the blog advice people throw around like gospel. And it doesn’t work. It’s a corporate game where the most “optimized” résumé wins—not the most capable person. And the worst part? Everyone has something to suggest like I’ve never tried the obvious. “Just network!” Oh, thanks. Never thought of that. 🙄 In college, I d...

Something Had to Die Yesterday ...and it was my Snapchat. Because it was either that, or those stupid fucking plants. I’ve put too much time, energy, and money into something that now just feels like a slow-motion failure. Not because I didn’t care. I did. Maybe too much. But effort doesn’t always mean success—and that’s a hard pill I keep choking on. I’m not trying to become some master grower. This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. It was just supposed to work. But I overdid it. Made the wrong calls. And now I’m left watching something struggle to survive that I can’t fully fix. Snapchat just seemed like the safest thing to destroy since I hardly use it. The plants didn’t do anything to me—I did it to them. So I let the app go instead. It’s what I had to do to keep from becoming hateful and killing something out of spite. This isn’t a victory. It’s not motivation. It’s just what I had to do to not quit everything.

They want you quiet. Comfortably numb. Grateful for scraps and too tired to run. They hand you a screen and call it a life, Feed you distraction to dull all the strife. But you? You dream with your fists clenched tight, With blood in your mouth and your jaw locked right. You feel too much. You think too loud. You see through the fog they’ve wrapped 'round the crowd. And yeah— you’re stuck in the land of the free Where freedom costs your soul, plus a fee. Where hope is taxed, and rest is rare, And dreams are sold at boutique fare. But still, you dream. With calloused hands. With rent past due and no real plans. You build escape in whispered lines, In jokes, in rants, in crooked rhymes. Because dreaming here isn’t weak, It’s war. A quiet riot beneath the floor. And if one day you break away, Take a brick from the wall they made you pay. And use it well. Make it count. Build a door so someone else gets out.

I don’t know why I’m drawn to her— maybe it’s the way her spirit hums in a frequency only my chaos understands. Her smile? Electric. Her gaze? Intoxicating. And I can’t lie— I’m hooked. Not like an addict, more like a scholar obsessed with a riddle too ancient to solve. She makes me wonder what her kiss tastes like— if it’s soft like closure or sharp like goodbye. What keeps her up at 2 a.m.? What wars does she wage behind closed eyes? Her silence— it doesn’t push me away. It invites me in, but never past the foyer. Just enough warmth to stay, just enough cold to question if I was ever meant to belong. She’s a cipher, and maybe I’m too much of a question mark to be her answer. Maybe I’m not what she wants. Maybe I never was. And still— here I am, chasing echoes of something that might never be real. A loop I can’t exit, a thought I can’t kill. Part of me wants to walk away. Save myself the heartache. Save myself from myself. Because left to my own devices, I could build shr...

It’s hard being single, pushing forty, in a world where a man must be everything— but never too much of anything. Strong— but not so strong that you seem unreachable. Vulnerable— but only in ways that don’t make her uncomfortable. Lead— but never dominate. Provide— but never complain. We’re told to care, but not so much that it feels like need. To speak, but not so much that it steals her voice. To protect, but only from the things she agrees are dangerous. We carry expectations like bricks tucked in our ribs— smile through stress, laugh through pain, and call it “being a man.” We’re told to want a family, then sacrifice time with them in the name of duty— yet still be present in every way that counts. We are supposed to be the calm in every storm, the rock in every tide, the wall that never cracks, the fire that never fades. And still, we must never look tired. We love without condition, forgive without limit, and fall without safety nets. We are taught to carry the weight of the worl...