I’m sitting in a BBQ joint eating a pork sandwich alone at 3:35 p.m. The guy who took my order—older, seasoned, one of those guys who’s probably seen some things—looked at me and asked,
“Are you a father?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Well, happy Father’s Day,” he replied.
“Thanks.”
I bet I’ve eaten alone 25,250 times in my life. I just did some rough math, and that’s the number. I love it.
I love eating alone. Not that number.
Speaking of alone...
My mom once told me, “The older you get, the harder it is to make friends.” That sucks, I thought.
Turns out—she was right.
So…
I’m starting a NEW personal 30-day challenge today. One that forces me to talk to people. Gross.
Note to reader: I always start my 30-day challenges—which I call adventures—on the 1st day of the month or the 15th day of the month. No idea why, but I do.
All this talk will probably drive me to ketamine therapy or a closet meth addiction. TBD.
Anyway…
Don’t be surprised if I call you. Just act normal. It’s fine.
I’m not the naturally chatty guy. Wish I was. It just doesn’t come naturally or easy for me. Such is life, I suppose.
Maybe I should’ve been one of those wilderness weirdos on TV living in the woods alone, eating bears and making snowshoes out of reindeer antlers.
Nah.
They say all good things come from hard work.
For me, talking to people is hard work.
Unfortunately for me, it’s much easier to:
Not meet up for a beer or coffee
Not FaceTime a friend
Not have a 30-minute phone call about whatever people talk about for 30 minutes
Not join a new club, men’s group, social club, yacht club, pickleball group, or inner city gang.
But here’s the problem:
Any success I’ve ever had came through other people. Which means I had to talk to them.
I have also noticed my most successful friends are the ones who prefer phone calls over texts. Talk about psychos.
So, I (and by “I” I mean ChatGPT) created a new 30-day challenge called:
Out of My Head, Into the World.
The mission? Talk to people.
So far today, I talked to a young dude named Ryan, who is about to travel the world and try to figure out his life. God, I would love to have that adventure again at his age. He is going to live in Bali for three months, followed by three months in Vietnam.
Can stem cells make me 30 years old again? I’ll take a dozen.
But this challenge, ChatGPT says, isn’t about discipline.
It’s about aliveness.
It’s about getting back in the game—one small, human moment at a time.
Well, game on.
Oh, and happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. I’m still waiting for “National Non-Father Who Creates Weird Social Challenges Day” to be recognized. Maybe Don Trump will sign an executive order creating the new holiday (and give me some of his meth).
Anyway, I’m eating ice cream tonight.
The takeaway?
Everything takes effort—even making friends.
Want to talk?
–Trey
Good for you. Keep it going,.,,, love you.