Where the Wisdom Comes From

I’m the guy my friends come to for shit. André needs help with women. Ana’s got butterflies. Kathi’s prepping for whatever disaster she’s about to date. I’ve got a line for everything, some half-smart observation that lands just right when they need it.

But here’s the thing—none of it’s original. It all comes from living long enough to notice how everything works and how little any of it matters. You see a pattern enough times, you stop being surprised by it.

The real wisdom, though, the stuff that sticks: it’s just accepting that you’re fucked either way. As a man, nothing you do is right. You try too hard, you’re needy. You hold back, you’re distant. You’re honest about what you want, you’re a prick. You’re considerate, you’re weak. Women end up disappointed in every generation because they keep expecting men to somehow solve this, and men keep expecting women to be grateful for the attempt. It’s absurd. It’s completely fucked. And once you see it, once you really understand that the game was rigged from the start, you can actually relax about it.