A three-pack of letters to kick things off
Can I be an artist without eating tree bark to survive? How do I adapt to a mortifying new dating world? Can my marriage overcome the demands of three kids who insist on being "raised"?
After struggling as an artist during the pandemic, I now have a fairly comfortable but creatively unfulfilling job. Should I goad myself to try and achieve the career dreams I had when I was younger, or try to accept that financially stable mediocrity is probably as good as it gets at this point?
There’s always a tension between creativity and comfort. Do I want to work on my novel full-time or have the capacity to afford toothpaste? Do I want to set my painting aside or earn enough money to die filled with regret in one of the nicer hospice set-ups? Generally, I tend not to believe that you have to choose one or the other. Maybe you could have when you were 22, when you could’ve gotten by working two shifts a week at a coffee shop and sharing a grim one-bedroom apartment with five other people and what can only be described as a kingdom of millipedes. But those days are over. Look in the mirror for the confirmation if you must. Could you realistically go all-in, even if you wanted? The good news, however, is that you might have more time than you think. Maybe the moment has arrived for you to ruthlessly examine your schedule. Is there truly no way to carve out an additional hour every day and several more on weekends? If you stopped watching Netflix, severely rationed social media, and nurtured only those children who seem like they have the goods to make something of themselves, you might find yourself with a block of time that you could use for a creative project. Not a lot maybe, but enough that you won’t feel as if you’ve turned your back on your creative ambitions. This will require discipline, uh oh, but you might get an assist from the fact that those minutes and hours will be a scarce and precious resource. You have the time, just not the time to waste.
I’m recently divorced after 25 years of marriage. How do I begin dating again on what has essentially become another planet while I was in “orbit” (slowly deteriorating marriage)? Apps, throuples, gender fluidity, it’s overwhelming and I’m terrified. But also lonely and sad. I miss the days of striking up a conversation in a laundromat and waking up with someone on a rickety futon. Okay, I don’t, but still, help? Thank you.
Reentering the dating world can feel a lot like emerging from 500 years of cryosleep only to discover the 26th century isn’t actually all that intrigued by you or, at best, thinks you could be a moderate draw at a zoo. The good news for you is that the ways of old still exist, including laundromats. Whatever it was you did way back when very likely remains operable—bars are still places, volunteering is still an activity, friends can still scrape one of their more irritating acquaintances onto your plate. However, you may have to push through the notion that you have to “upgrade” in a way that’s uncomfortable. You don’t have to use apps at all (I think people are increasingly resentful of them), or if you do, you can commandeer them to suit your dating style, which seems to be very grounded in real-world interactions. For example, you might minimize texting back and forth. A few exchanges to establish an auspicious vibe and a sanity threshold, and then you’re escalating. That could mean a phone call/video chat, a beverage, or pre-ordering side-by-side cemetery monuments, whatever’s mutually comfortable at this stage. What matters is that you’re getting back on your turf ASAP.
As for the rest, the hetero (I’m presuming) monogamous relationship you want still outnumbers all others. There just may be a little more admin involved in getting there, specifying on an app or in conversation what it is you’re looking for. All that’s really changed is that people who may have felt marginalized (queer people, poly people) have achieved a bit of visibility in dating. And don’t they deserve to be as disillusioned as anyone else?
I'm a middle-aged father of three. Needless to say, life is driven by the kids' endless schedule, and my relationship with my wife amounts to (1) arguing over what to worry about by day, followed at night by (2) however many minutes of The Bear or Only Murders in the Building we can muster before she falls asleep. We're not a couple anymore; we're colleagues. How can I get our spark back?
If this were the ’80s, I’d just recommend dropping your kids off at the mall and picking them up in front of the arcade kitty-corner from the food court a week later. Any age, doesn’t matter. The naughtiness of strangers hadn’t fully dawned on our culture quite yet. But here we are in 2024. The mall is mostly empty, and there’s an uncanny cold spot in the corridor where a Lids kiosk once prospered. One thing you didn’t specify is whether you’ve, you know, mentioned this untenable state to your wife. I do not think it will be news to her. And then, externalized, it graduates from a private agony to a real-life problem to be solved. As for what to do then? Well, unless you want to ship your kids off longterm to boarding school or some sort of Russian rhythmic gymnastics gulag, you and your wife are going to have to find time for yourselves; that is, make time for yourselves because you’re not going to just stumble on it. (If you feel guilty about any time at all away from the kids, you can just kind of expense it as something that will ultimately benefit them in the form of less resentful parents). Find a babysitter, a relative, a drifter with kind eyes—anyone who will allow you and your wife a few hours to interact as the adults you were before you solemnly relinquished your given names for “Mom” and “Dad.” It doesn’t even have to be a full-on date night with all the expectations of romance or a sex explosion, though it can and should be sometimes. But even watching The Bear with no kids in the other room and no threat of them entering the room you’re in, just existing in your grown-up form, can remind you that you’re people distinct from the other people you created.
False advertising. This is pretty good advice. Will subscribe and share to see if it gets badder.