Day 11, 12, and 13
This picture is a big misleading.  First, it is not me. I’m not Russian, nor a powerlifter.  However, it is representative since the highlight of this glorious Sunday was a killer workout - legs, specifically.  As a temporary bachelor, you think I would embrace ‘sunday funday’ and guzzle a bunch o’bloody marys.  Instead, I slept until 9:25am (woot woot!), then proceeded to work for 2 hours before hitting the gym for a much-needed break.   Had I remembered to tan, this weekend would have represented my Jersey roots to the fullest - gym tan laundry! - alas, I only completed the gym and laundry parts.
Saturday’s works was broken up with, well, more work. I managed an in-store promotion which was a nice little break, but not much more.  I realize how awesome I am as a consumer.  Only after you sit in a store for 2 hours and watch other people fuck around deciding on what beer to buy do you realize that, if you don’t do that shit, then you’re so far ahead of the rest of society.  Seriously, I couldn’t believe how many people enter a liquor store and have no clue what they want.  Really, I am more confident than ever that our country’s increasing income inequality stems not from an increasing educational gap, or work ethic, but rather it’s because so many people just can’t make decisions.  Simple ones.  Like when you enter a liquor store to buy beer, wine, or liquor, the people with money can complete a transaction in 10 minutes.  Some people who arrived on Saturday haven’t left (it’s Sunday night now).  
Make a fucking decision…and succeed,
TDX

Day 11, 12, and 13

This picture is a big misleading.  First, it is not me. I’m not Russian, nor a powerlifter.  However, it is representative since the highlight of this glorious Sunday was a killer workout - legs, specifically.  As a temporary bachelor, you think I would embrace ‘sunday funday’ and guzzle a bunch o’bloody marys.  Instead, I slept until 9:25am (woot woot!), then proceeded to work for 2 hours before hitting the gym for a much-needed break.   Had I remembered to tan, this weekend would have represented my Jersey roots to the fullest - gym tan laundry! - alas, I only completed the gym and laundry parts.

Saturday’s works was broken up with, well, more work. I managed an in-store promotion which was a nice little break, but not much more.  I realize how awesome I am as a consumer.  Only after you sit in a store for 2 hours and watch other people fuck around deciding on what beer to buy do you realize that, if you don’t do that shit, then you’re so far ahead of the rest of society.  Seriously, I couldn’t believe how many people enter a liquor store and have no clue what they want.  Really, I am more confident than ever that our country’s increasing income inequality stems not from an increasing educational gap, or work ethic, but rather it’s because so many people just can’t make decisions.  Simple ones.  Like when you enter a liquor store to buy beer, wine, or liquor, the people with money can complete a transaction in 10 minutes.  Some people who arrived on Saturday haven’t left (it’s Sunday night now).  

Make a fucking decision…and succeed,

TDX


Day 8, 9, and 10
You know the mojo has started to return when a daily post becomes a once-every-three-days thing.  
Well, the mojo isn’t back per se, but I have at least successfully wiped the dust off.  
I am quickly fighting competing interests; on one hand there’s a sensible voice telling me to maintain some semblance of a schedule which I’ll return to upon the return of my wife and child, while another voice (which grows louder everyday) begs me to stay out late, sleep in, and enjoy happy hour…every happy hour.
A mini reunion on Day 9 involved 5 solid hours of drinking proved a formidable opponent this morning as I wrestled with the thought of sleeping in, yet reason prevailed.  Well, not really reason.  I had an early meeting.  Perhaps a greater force is controlling my calendar these days?  
Tonight may be too much to overcome.  I’m set for back-to-back ‘guys nights’.  When did I last do this?  Who knows.  Tonight’s tomfoolery  involves a different group of buddies…and golf.  Prudence has left my vernacular albeit temporarily, or at least I hope so.  
All I can hope for is an evening where I do not decide - after a few cocktails - to start betting on athletic performances.  Mine, specifically.  Because they only get worse, yet my brain never seems to realize this.  Details.
All about the Benjamins,
TDX

Day 8, 9, and 10

You know the mojo has started to return when a daily post becomes a once-every-three-days thing.  

Well, the mojo isn’t back per se, but I have at least successfully wiped the dust off.  

I am quickly fighting competing interests; on one hand there’s a sensible voice telling me to maintain some semblance of a schedule which I’ll return to upon the return of my wife and child, while another voice (which grows louder everyday) begs me to stay out late, sleep in, and enjoy happy hour…every happy hour.

A mini reunion on Day 9 involved 5 solid hours of drinking proved a formidable opponent this morning as I wrestled with the thought of sleeping in, yet reason prevailed.  Well, not really reason.  I had an early meeting.  Perhaps a greater force is controlling my calendar these days?  

Tonight may be too much to overcome.  I’m set for back-to-back ‘guys nights’.  When did I last do this?  Who knows.  Tonight’s tomfoolery  involves a different group of buddies…and golf.  Prudence has left my vernacular albeit temporarily, or at least I hope so.  

All I can hope for is an evening where I do not decide - after a few cocktails - to start betting on athletic performances.  Mine, specifically.  Because they only get worse, yet my brain never seems to realize this.  Details.

All about the Benjamins,

TDX


Day 7

Monday’s are always filled with anxiousness as an entrepreneur. So much to do. So little time. And so many foreseen successes inch closer ever so slowly.  

That pretty much describes my 7th day in temporary bachelorhood.  On the bright side, I did take a giant leap closer to sitting down with one of the world’s most powerful people to discuss doing business together.  And yet, with so much more to do, there’s little time to celebrate such an achievement.

The goal for the rest of the week is to get to the office. Yes, I worked from home today which is an option only because of my temporary bachelorhood which finds my big house empty aside from me.  However, the pluses of working without wasting time commuting are met with the realization at day’s end that I haven’t left the house other than for a morning run.  

That can be weird, especially for someone used to leaving the house before 5:00am every day.

Until Tuesday…

-TDX


Day 6 of temporary bachelorhood
I went to Home Depot.  And Walmart.  Let’s face it; I’m a parent.  This is what I do.  An exciting morning of buying garage door openers was then capped off by a riveting afternoon of scoring deals on Bolthouse Farms juices at Walmart.  
As much as I may have wished for a Sunday Funday, that just wasn’t in the cards for this old timer.  Plus, I cooked.  Twice.  In the same day.  It has been an out-of-body experience.  Cooking twice in the same day?  For myself?  I haven’t met this person before.  I’m withholding judgement for now.  
On the bright side, I did speak with my father this evening who started our conversation by asking how many strippers and cheerleaders I had in my house.  At least he still believes in me…
-TDX

Day 6 of temporary bachelorhood

I went to Home Depot.  And Walmart.  Let’s face it; I’m a parent.  This is what I do.  An exciting morning of buying garage door openers was then capped off by a riveting afternoon of scoring deals on Bolthouse Farms juices at Walmart.  

As much as I may have wished for a Sunday Funday, that just wasn’t in the cards for this old timer.  Plus, I cooked.  Twice.  In the same day.  It has been an out-of-body experience.  Cooking twice in the same day?  For myself?  I haven’t met this person before.  I’m withholding judgement for now.  

On the bright side, I did speak with my father this evening who started our conversation by asking how many strippers and cheerleaders I had in my house.  At least he still believes in me…

-TDX


A husband and father of 1 is temporarily thrust into bachelorhood for 3 weeks. Here’s what he does…
Day 5
I slept in.  Well, sorta.  The concept of sleeping in on weekends dramatically changes from college —> bachelorhood —> parenthood.  Whereas one might awaken from their slumber at, oh, 1:30pm on a Saturday in your 20s, parents don’t do this.  In fact, parents can’t do this.  Your body just doesn’t work that way anymore.  So, I awoke at 8:45am and, my goodness, it felt fucking awesome.  
Sure, I skipped out on a group run at a nearby park, but I justified it by crushing a workout at the gym before…oh no…am I admitting this?…before I ran an errand at Home Depot and then proceeded to kill the afternoon by cleaning the garage.
Dammit, I am such a dad!  Only dads think, “I’ll clean the garage this weekend.  Yeah, great use of time!”  I know this because my father was obsessed about keeping the garage orderly.  No child can ever rationalize the thought of a tidy garage.  It’s the place where you spit on the ground and smack dirt off your cleats.  
Why clean the garage at all?  To a kid, the garage is just a big trash can with no lid.  To a dad, it is somehow representative of your manhood.  Or at least it is if you’re Irish Catholic.
No matter, I did nap in the afternoon, kill 2 hours watching a movie, and then drank a pint of some Rogue Voodoo Doughnut ale.  I give myself a ‘C’ for today.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll get shit-faced at brunch and start off a new week by fighting a hangover.
We’ll see…

A husband and father of 1 is temporarily thrust into bachelorhood for 3 weeks. Here’s what he does…

Day 5

I slept in.  Well, sorta.  The concept of sleeping in on weekends dramatically changes from college —> bachelorhood —> parenthood.  Whereas one might awaken from their slumber at, oh, 1:30pm on a Saturday in your 20s, parents don’t do this.  In fact, parents can’t do this.  Your body just doesn’t work that way anymore.  So, I awoke at 8:45am and, my goodness, it felt fucking awesome.  

Sure, I skipped out on a group run at a nearby park, but I justified it by crushing a workout at the gym before…oh no…am I admitting this?…before I ran an errand at Home Depot and then proceeded to kill the afternoon by cleaning the garage.

Dammit, I am such a dad!  Only dads think, “I’ll clean the garage this weekend.  Yeah, great use of time!”  I know this because my father was obsessed about keeping the garage orderly.  No child can ever rationalize the thought of a tidy garage.  It’s the place where you spit on the ground and smack dirt off your cleats.  

Why clean the garage at all?  To a kid, the garage is just a big trash can with no lid.  To a dad, it is somehow representative of your manhood.  Or at least it is if you’re Irish Catholic.

No matter, I did nap in the afternoon, kill 2 hours watching a movie, and then drank a pint of some Rogue Voodoo Doughnut ale.  I give myself a ‘C’ for today.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll get shit-faced at brunch and start off a new week by fighting a hangover.

We’ll see…


One husband/father’s journey through a 3-week return to bachelorhood…
DAY 4
I golf today.  Insert standing ovation.  That’s right.  I picked my balls off the floor and did something that bachelors enjoy without regard for time or consequences.  I golfed.  Here’s the thing though; I tee’d off at 7:15am.  You read that correctly.  And the just-under-3-hour round was conducted completely sober.  By choice. On a Friday.
Fuck me.  I’m such a dad.  And husband.  I wonder which coffee-flavored porter I would have chugged has this been 2006? No I don’t.  I already know.
Okay, so maybe i awoke at 5:00am, took a shower and ate a wholesome breakfast before hitting the links, but still, I felt a twinge of my mojo returning as I shanked the living hell out of a drive on 6.  Whatever. As my playing partner tells me every time, “Nobody owns golf balls. You lease them.”
Since it’s Friday, I have to admit I’m considering going out for a drink. Or 30.  The only thing holding me back is the urge to sleep for 12 hours which, as any new father will attest, is just not an option.  Of course, I could get shit-faced and straggle home at 4am, sleep ‘til 4:00pm and start my day with dinner. However, like a total douchebag, I’m scheduled to meet “health warriors” for a run tomorrow at 7:00am.
Fuck me
-TDX

One husband/father’s journey through a 3-week return to bachelorhood…

DAY 4

I golf today.  Insert standing ovation.  That’s right.  I picked my balls off the floor and did something that bachelors enjoy without regard for time or consequences.  I golfed.  Here’s the thing though; I tee’d off at 7:15am.  You read that correctly.  And the just-under-3-hour round was conducted completely sober.  By choice. On a Friday.

Fuck me.  I’m such a dad.  And husband.  I wonder which coffee-flavored porter I would have chugged has this been 2006? No I don’t.  I already know.

Okay, so maybe i awoke at 5:00am, took a shower and ate a wholesome breakfast before hitting the links, but still, I felt a twinge of my mojo returning as I shanked the living hell out of a drive on 6.  Whatever. As my playing partner tells me every time, “Nobody owns golf balls. You lease them.”

Since it’s Friday, I have to admit I’m considering going out for a drink. Or 30.  The only thing holding me back is the urge to sleep for 12 hours which, as any new father will attest, is just not an option.  Of course, I could get shit-faced and straggle home at 4am, sleep ‘til 4:00pm and start my day with dinner. However, like a total douchebag, I’m scheduled to meet “health warriors” for a run tomorrow at 7:00am.

Fuck me

-TDX


Day 3 of one husband’s temporary bachelorhood…
I went to a bar. After work.  And drank beer.  It was your classic bachelor move except for 2 glaring results; the first is I admittedly only consumed 1 beer and, secondly, drove home sober by 8:30pm where I then proceeded to cook myself dinner.
The husband in me is real.  The dad too.  I though I could possibly shed the persona in the blink, spark the return of my mojo, and execute poor decisions circa 2006.  Alas, that magic potion appears to have disappeared.
No matter, I’ve organized 2 evenings of potential debauchery next week.  It’s a damn good thing Uber has finally landed in Houston, thereby making debauchery a much more justifiable goal when no designated driver is available.
Wish me luck…
-TDX

Day 3 of one husband’s temporary bachelorhood…

I went to a bar. After work.  And drank beer.  It was your classic bachelor move except for 2 glaring results; the first is I admittedly only consumed 1 beer and, secondly, drove home sober by 8:30pm where I then proceeded to cook myself dinner.

The husband in me is real.  The dad too.  I though I could possibly shed the persona in the blink, spark the return of my mojo, and execute poor decisions circa 2006.  Alas, that magic potion appears to have disappeared.

No matter, I’ve organized 2 evenings of potential debauchery next week.  It’s a damn good thing Uber has finally landed in Houston, thereby making debauchery a much more justifiable goal when no designated driver is available.

Wish me luck…

-TDX


Day 2 
I cooked again.  And ran another 4.25 miles.  Don’t judge me.  I can’t figure it out either.  My second day of temporary bachelorhood was once again marked by prudence, health, and wellness.  
Have I lost all my mojo forever? Eva…eva?
I must admit though, the chicken I marinated overnight and cooked this evening was da bomb, yo.  If there was any rhyme or reason behind the ingredients and portions used in the marinade, I’d post them here.  Pinky swear.  
On the bright side, I am attending a happy hour tomorrow evening and - get this - organized a “guys night” next week complete with golf, beer, and outright debauchery.  Yes, I plan to use Uber.  I don’t mind partying to the brink of death as long as there’s an Uber car there to catch me and return me to my humble abode before i pass to the other side.
Oh, yeah, and I bought a wireless all-in-one printer for our house and started shopping for my son’s 1st birthday today.  By the beard of Zeus somebody please order me a truckload of Thai strippers to come over and save me from fatherhood if only for a few days.  
STAT!

Day 2 

I cooked again.  And ran another 4.25 miles.  Don’t judge me.  I can’t figure it out either.  My second day of temporary bachelorhood was once again marked by prudence, health, and wellness.  

Have I lost all my mojo forever? Eva…eva?

I must admit though, the chicken I marinated overnight and cooked this evening was da bomb, yo.  If there was any rhyme or reason behind the ingredients and portions used in the marinade, I’d post them here.  Pinky swear.  

On the bright side, I am attending a happy hour tomorrow evening and - get this - organized a “guys night” next week complete with golf, beer, and outright debauchery.  Yes, I plan to use Uber.  I don’t mind partying to the brink of death as long as there’s an Uber car there to catch me and return me to my humble abode before i pass to the other side.

Oh, yeah, and I bought a wireless all-in-one printer for our house and started shopping for my son’s 1st birthday today.  By the beard of Zeus somebody please order me a truckload of Thai strippers to come over and save me from fatherhood if only for a few days.  

STAT!


A married father of 1 is given 20 days to revisit bachelorhood.  Here’s what happens…
DAY 1

I know what you’re thinking.  Because I thought about it too.  After dropping my wife and adorable 11-month-old son at the airport, it quickly dawned on me that for the next 20 days I was alone.  Not in a depressing manner.  Quite the contrary.  Alone as in a quiet house, especially at 7am…every…day…of…the…week.  Parents know this; that’s fucking gold, man.  Pure.  Mother.  Fucking.  Gold.  Because I have the option of sleeping until whenever I want.  Remember those days?  Yeah, that’s called college. And bachelorhood.  That doesn’t happen when you’re raising children.
So what did I do on my 1st day of my temporary bachelorhood?  I cooked.  And I even have more chicken marinating in the fridge.  Hey, stop shaking your head.  I didn’t expect it either.  It…just…happened.  Are there strippers coming over?  Nope.  Am I getting hammered at a club and dusting off my dance routine (is Nelly Furtado still cool!)?  Nope.  
Instead, I cooked and returned emails before starting this blog.  Oh, and I ran 4.25 miles after work.  I wish I could say that was because I was being chased by a S.W.A.T. team after robbing a bank and making it rain while surrounded by voluptuous vixens begging me to do something illegal, immoral, and probably unhealthy.  But, no.  I ran for my long term health and wellness.
What? Am? I? Doing? 
I really don’t know.  Let’s see if this whole ‘Dad’ thing stays with me over the next 3 weeks.  Until tomorrow…
-TDX

A married father of 1 is given 20 days to revisit bachelorhood.  Here’s what happens…

DAY 1

I know what you’re thinking.  Because I thought about it too.  After dropping my wife and adorable 11-month-old son at the airport, it quickly dawned on me that for the next 20 days I was alone.  Not in a depressing manner.  Quite the contrary.  Alone as in a quiet house, especially at 7am…every…day…of…the…week.  Parents know this; that’s fucking gold, man.  Pure.  Mother.  Fucking.  Gold.  Because I have the option of sleeping until whenever I want.  Remember those days?  Yeah, that’s called college. And bachelorhood.  That doesn’t happen when you’re raising children.

So what did I do on my 1st day of my temporary bachelorhood?  I cooked.  And I even have more chicken marinating in the fridge.  Hey, stop shaking your head.  I didn’t expect it either.  It…just…happened.  Are there strippers coming over?  Nope.  Am I getting hammered at a club and dusting off my dance routine (is Nelly Furtado still cool!)?  Nope.  

Instead, I cooked and returned emails before starting this blog.  Oh, and I ran 4.25 miles after work.  I wish I could say that was because I was being chased by a S.W.A.T. team after robbing a bank and making it rain while surrounded by voluptuous vixens begging me to do something illegal, immoral, and probably unhealthy.  But, no.  I ran for my long term health and wellness.

What? Am? I? Doing? 

I really don’t know.  Let’s see if this whole ‘Dad’ thing stays with me over the next 3 weeks.  Until tomorrow…

-TDX


Son.
This was your first interaction with Santa.  If you’re like your mother, you’ll appreciate this person very much and enjoy the holiday he is associated with.  If you’re like your father, you will become obsessed with this person to the point where you’ll be unable to sleep for the month of December until you’re 12 years old.
Be like your mother. Please.
-The Dad Xperience

Son.

This was your first interaction with Santa.  If you’re like your mother, you’ll appreciate this person very much and enjoy the holiday he is associated with.  If you’re like your father, you will become obsessed with this person to the point where you’ll be unable to sleep for the month of December until you’re 12 years old.

Be like your mother. Please.

-The Dad Xperience