The Devious Charm of the Unattainable

Last night, I had an unexpected conversation with a girl I had a brief connection with about a year ago. We went on three dates, I even cooked her dinner once, and she seemed to feel safe with me. Then, suddenly, she pulled away, uninterested in pursuing anything further.

Fast forward to last night, and we naturally hit it off again. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, like a well-rehearsed performance. When we talked about one of her friends, I playfully remarked, “Oh, you just want to control.” She got flustered. Then, I gave her a teasing compliment, calling her a "beautiful demon," and she told me to shut up—almost as if she knew I was onto something. She has this devious streak that intrigues me. I’m still trying to figure her out. She wants to be a free spirit, but there’s something more beneath the surface. My initial read: she wants more but is afraid to take it.

Earlier that day, I spoke with my friend Matthew about enjoying the present. He told me he often anticipates events more than he enjoys them. He thrives on the buildup rather than the experience itself. That made me wonder—do I use work as a distraction from confronting what I don’t want to face?

Why do I fixate on things I cannot control?

Lately, I’ve realized that my daily habits don’t align with the life I say I want. I claim to have grand ambitions, but my routine feels mechanical, like an assembly line. I’m searching for color in a world that often feels grey.

I know happiness isn’t constant, but I find myself yearning for something I can’t quite define. I sit at the Kava bar, working on projects, observing people. Someone recently told me, “People don’t know if you’re listening.” But I always am. Not to gossip, but to understand human behavior. At a place where the currency is gossip, understanding people is a form of leverage. Working at the bar has sharpened my soft skills—confidence, wit, reading people. It’s become an unexpected asset. I need to explore how this experience has shaped my career and character.

I skipped church this week, missing my usual sermon recap. It’s the first time I’ve done that in a while, and I’m conflicted. On one hand, I had a productive day and enjoyed changing up my routine. But part of me missed it. I wanted to see those friends, but I worry I’m too much for them sometimes. I try to be honest and live according to what I believe in, but I also know I haven’t been the best Christian lately. Maybe that’s why I avoided it—I felt unworthy.

I know that’s not how faith works. Church is for repentance, for owning up to your actions. Still, my choices as of late have been on the immoral side. And yet, I’m trying to get back into my routine—hitting the gym, eating better, refining my weekends.

Reading is another habit I need to rebuild. I’ve started getting back into the Bible, reading for fun again. I tell myself I don’t have time, but I know that’s a lie. Time is being wasted elsewhere. You can’t split-test life; everything comes with a tradeoff.

Yesterday, a girl I’ve been seeing came over. We’ve been on a few dates, and she intrigues me. She has ambition, yet she holds herself back—afraid of what others might think. I get it. I still struggle with fitting in, letting people’s comments get to me. But in the end, no one truly cares. People don’t even like themselves—so why let them dictate how you feel about you?

She taught me something about myself. I love to play, to joke. But sometimes people don’t know when I’m being serious. I like that. It keeps me unreadable. But as we sat there talking—pheromones in the air—she was real with me. She’s scared to stop being "the good kid." I was real with her back and I think she felt that. But what if it turns out better than you ever imagined? What if all those things you want so desperately from life actually come true?

That question applies to me, too. I’m scared to take risks. To apply for new opportunities. To ask for more. Walking down the stairs of my apartment complex last night, it hit me—my biggest fear is waking up one day as a middle manager, looking back at years wasted, thinking: Damn, what have I done?She’s devious, though. She plays innocent, but I see through it. Just as the girl I talked to on Monday. And maybe that’s what draws me in to them. The threat of laceration.

Life feels monotonous lately, even though I tell myself I’m "locked in." But what does that even mean? Am I truly making progress, or just running in place? Maybe the real question is: Am I brave enough to step off the assembly line and chase something real?