It was 1 in the morning. September 11th was finally over and Monday was going to rise. I walked back home, rushing in the empty streets of Providencia. It was cold. I was frustrated. I had just spent 4 hours on another failed Tinder date. The only difference this time was that she was Chilean and we spoke our dialect. Or she did. She wouldn’t shut up. I hardly talked and just sipped on my beer. Got annoyed by her cats. Got annoyed by things not going anywhere. Again.
Speeding back to my rented flat in the chilled air of the night, I wondered: “What am I doing with my life?” I have been doing it for the last 6 months or so. The question just keeps popping up every time I fall into one of these bottomless pits of sexual frustration and boredom. Or any other dark, deep pit. My drinking. My career. My living situation. My loneliness. The random acts to escape an ordinary existence.
What am I doing with my life?
I opened the door to the apartment and went directly to the toilet. The bathroom reeked of cigarette smoke. The whole flat, the whole building did. I brushed my teeth on the kitchen sink and then washed and took care of my new tattoo. I went to bed, prepared to sleep like shit, as every night in Santiago so far. And I did sleep like shit.
I had breakfast, watching the morning shows on my laptop. Chilean telly. Very shit, yet entertaining. And I thought of her. The last time I had been living in Chile, we were together. We used to have breakfast watching the morning shows too. I missed that. I missed L. I missed our life here, although at times it was unbearable.
“Did not get laid last night. It was another failed Tinder date, only in Chilean this time,” I wrote to Marie. I don’t know if she cares, really. So the question comes back to my head. “What am I doing with my life?” I laugh at it this time. I believe that a while ago I came up with an answer. I’m a writer, after all. What does a writer do with his life? If he’s writing about it, he’s doing research. And for a decadent column like this one, I am doing one hell of a research.