Life Ain’t Nothing But Money N’ Boobs - Until You Wake Up

You Ever Win the Game and Still Feel Like Shit?

Let’s just get this out of the way: this blog isn’t for most people.

It’s for the ones who’ve chased all the wrong things, found them, and still felt empty.

I’m not here to preach or convince anyone.

Just sharing something that I’ve been slowly realizing and embodying for the last 5-6 years.

That is: I believe there’s so much more to life than dopamine hits from chasing sex and money.

And if any of this resonates with you, read on.

What I Thought Would Make Me Happy

Once upon a time,

My back didn’t hurt from old age,

My morning glory never skipped a day,

And I was the biggest fangirl of the hustle culture.

You know the sales pitch:

Grind hard, eat your pain, get successful or die trying.

Duh, how many young men can honestly say that they don’t want the money, respect, and girls?

Of course, I chased that dream, too. Hard.

I had to, being the 24-year-old “loser” I was.

I worked a minimum wage job,

Lived in a suburban house shared by 7 dudes,

Being liked back by a girl I truly desired would make my year.

It was the most depressing period of my life.

“If I can just get laid more and make good money, I will finally get to be happy.”

So I hustled.

With hiphop hits blasting in my ears 24/7,

a “rags to bitches” dream in my heart,

and an existential crisis fire under my ass.

I went to war with my own worthlessness.

All those years of sitting on the sidelines and watching my friends getting laid, getting paid…

Those had to mean something.

And I had to make up for those wasted years, fast.

So I hustled.

Endured my bullshit job from 10-8, hit the gym, then I was right back to building my tinder photography business.

And I gave up most of my social life to do that shit for 2 years straight.

I’m not gonna bullshit you and tell you that I became a millionaire and banged half of my city.

That didn’t happen, nowhere near it.

But I achieved my own version of that “success”

Got more sex and nice paydays than I could ever dream of.

Instead of flexing my hustle mentality on social media to cope with my loneliness and pain,

I could finally show off the nice vacations, fun dates, and expensive toys I hustled for.

Checking IG story viewers like an evil villain on his revenge arc.

“Fuck the haters who underestimated me, look at me now”

All That I Hustled For, Just Left Me Sad

I’m not going to pretend all those things didn’t give me a chronic dopamine high at first.

Quite the opposite.

I was walking around power tripping.

The “big dog”, the fucking man,

“I’m the shit” as Jay-Z would say.

Instead of dreaming about that rapper life.

I felt like my hip-hop-inspired power fantasy was finally manifesting one day at a time.

But isn’t life a bitch and your brain a mischievous bastard.

The novelty eventually becomes your new normal.

What used to give you a dirty high just doesn’t hit you the same over time.

There I was, posting my latest purchase on IG stories.

Partly knowing I was just chasing the dragon,

Partly still hoping that I’d finally feel something once everyone had seen it.

Great way to alienate your old friends, by the way.

Maybe they thought I felt better than them.

Maybe in truth I was just trying to fill a black hole while making myself look like an asshole in the process.

I traded a friend from the uni and ramen days for a random waiter at some pretentious restaurant who was impressed by my metal credit card.

I joked about being the Asian Patrick Bateman for having the same watch as the movie character.

But looking back, that might just be my soul’s cry for help.

I lit a joint, sat alone through the entire These Things Happen Too album by post-fame, still broken G-Eazy.

And I didn’t like how much I resonated with those songs.

In my rare moment of clarity, I texted my friend Pierre.

“Happiness is not external, it has to be right now! Because your brain is so good at moving the goal post and keeping you perpetually chasing the idea of it.”

But I wasn’t ready to live that truth.

Instead, I went to sleep high on weed, woke up sluggish and fucked up.

Then did it all over again. For years.

If the things I thought would make me happy didn’t…

I guess I would just have to settle for medicating myself to oblivion,

And feeling very empty and lost on the inside.

Maybe I Had Been Sold an Empty Promise

I was no psychologist, but even I had enough self-awareness to see that flexing on IG all the time,

And constantly checking to see who saw my stories was not a healthy behaviour.

Sure, I got the fat paydays and regular sex I always wanted,

Everything I thought would make me happy and feel at peace.

But emotionally, I was still the “miserable loser”, just with better external circumstances.

And would getting even more money, more boobs really make me happy if it hadn’t yet?

Didn’t some smart guy once say:

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different outcome.

I looked around and saw my friends who were “more successful” than me repeating the same patterns.

And I knew they were not the happiest people and their relationships consistently all went to shit.

It didn’t stop us, a bunch of spiritually dead assholes,

From getting together and flexing on each other about new business milestones and women.

And it was starting to look like a parody.

“Mo Money mo problems” once sounded funny and inspirational.

But I guess the joke was on me all along.

I Burned the Old Script and Decided to Write My Own

My disillusionment got to an all-time high around summer 2023.

But no, I didn’t randomly wake up one day and decide to move to a monastery,

In fact, I was making more money than ever, and I guess you can say my dating life got a little better too.

I was getting paid 4000 dollars a day to shoot Tinder photos.

It was surreal, even to me.

I had come a long way from that hustling kid who woke up at 7 am just to squeeze in a 100 dollar photoshoot before his day job.

The difference was, I finally accepted none of that was ultimately going to give my life meaning.

And there’s a tiny knowing in me that said:

“True happiness comes from being able to sit still and doing nothing, but still feeling content.”

Don’t get me wrong, it was still nice. I didn’t hate money, I still wanted the peace of mind.

But I just stopped looking for happiness in it.

It was finally time for me to define my own happiness.

And stop believing the “dream” I was sold on.

After a quiet period of soul searching,

I found my peace and happiness.

In stillness and unconditionally giving.

Just me, my tea, bathing in the sun,

Surrounded by trees and reading a book I liked.

Being a very productive member of the capitalist society.

Mind was silent, ego took a backseat, and I was feeling at peace for the first time.

I’d watch the money transfer come in from the latest photoshoot,

Do my usual victory dance for a minute or two,

Then head downstairs to buy a few pizzas for the homeless people hanging out around the church near me.

I never posted it on social media.

Maybe back in the day, I would have.

But this time? I did it for myself.

Because the feeling of helping others in need and pouring some love into this world,

Felt better than any stupid toy I could have bought.

Maybe some of those homeless became true believers after my regular pizza runs, lol.

Maybe the Middle Ground is the Way

Look, I’m not telling anyone to quit the material life and become a tree-hugging hippie.

Unless that’s your thing, then by all means.

The reality is we all have bills to pay, inflation is going nuts, and last I checked, most of us aren’t born asexual.

And I still like my material comfort. I’m not built to survive the mean streets.

As cliche as it sounds, I’m still hoping to run into a cute liberal arts weirdo and make her my future ex-wife.

But not in an egoistical way.

Just to chat, connect, and maybe fall in love.

The good old-fashioned way.

The way I see it now, life ain’t really all about money and boobs anymore.

I tried it, and it didn’t make me happy.

Just a big fat lie to keep us perpetually on the hamster wheel,

Make your corporation rich, get paid breadcrumbs, then get robbed again by your government.

Chase a false promise that only keeps you miserable and stuck,

Then die without ever truly living.

Slavery never went away. It just got rebranded.

They sold us the dream.

I lived it. Didn’t like it.

Woke up just in time to rewrite the ending.

You can know and play the game, but refuse to be owned by it.

Lucid dreaming.

A Man on His Journey to Peace and Love

So yeah. I chased the dream.

Got some of it. Didn’t like it.

Now I’m just trying to live slower, love deeper, and stay awake.

Just a man on his journey to peace and love.