Lately I have struggling with what to write about….like reaaaallly struggling. So much so that some of my friends have given me random topics to comment on in an attempt to get me motivated. Well, fear not friend-os, my single ladies survival guide to Valentine’s Day is on its way. It’s just that I’ve been feeling so lethargic and uninspired lately that my creative juices are basically at a standstill. And it’s not even like I haven’t had any hookups to talk about. On the contrary, I saw Mr. Views of the 6ix last weekend and let me tell you his apartment was as glorious as ever. I honestly tried to take a pic of it on my way out the following morning but bailed when I heard him coming out his room.
The fact remains that besides for my disturbing apartment fetish, I couldn’t think of anything to write about. What the heck was causing my writers block? Don’t forget, I’m the girl who wrote about shaving her legs so clearly it doesn’t take a lot to get a post out of me. Well, while lying in bed staring crankily at the ceiling last night I suddenly realized the issue.
I am in a F*ck Funk.
F*ck Funk /fuk/fəNGk/
Noun: A dater’s version of the winter blues. Characterized by waning energy, lackluster affect and ambivalence toward both dating and men.
The F*ck Funk is an annual occurrence result from a failed cuffing season. When summer flings are no more than a distant memory, the days are short but feel so very long, and everyone is coupled up or too lazy to care, yup. You’ve got the makings of the F*ck Funky time of year. Now, I may not be a scientist. I can’t prove that this is a real thing or that my foul mood is correlated with a serotonin or dopamine deficiency. But hell, this is my blog, and as such I own the right to make shit up as I go. So in continuing to abuse that right, I, Dr. Samantha Jones, will suggest that based on personal experience alone, this funk is a totally legitimate thing that I can both diagnose and help treat. I know, I really am amazing.
Doctorate credentials aside, let me explain how a F*ck Funk manifests through my most recent meetup with Mr. Views. It was Friday night and I was ready to paaaarttttaaaayyyyy! Alongside some of my best friends I headed to Motionball charity gala with one goal in mind: I was gunna find me a man. Lately I have been so apathetic toward J-swipe, tinder, and hookups in general because yes, ladies and gentlemen, Samantha Jones wants a little something more. Despite all this, I was totally not “feelin it” from the moment we arrived at the gala. I felt ugly, lacked confidence and definitely didn’t want to put myself out there in front of the overwhelming number of hotties around me. I even wing-womaned for my friend so she could meet her “dream bae” but barely made an effort with his friends standing nearby. I wanted someone without trying which is how I ended up at Mr. Views.
Now we can all see where this is going and loneliness is never a good reason to hook up with someone, but against better judgment I still hit him up on my cab ride home. We actually had a great time, I’ve alluded to our great sexual chemistry, but I was really put off by our lame attempt at small talk during a post-coital cuddle sesh. We have nothing in common and it was painfully obvious to us both.
A F*ck Funk appears when “just doing me” loses it sheen and becomes stale. I was bored of the meaningless hook ups and missing the intimacy that just doesn’t come from a 2 am booty call (shocking…). As I stared at his ceiling while his neighbors blared Sia at 8 in the FREAKING MORNING, I found myself thinking, “How did I end up here? Has my self-esteem really fallen so far that I’ll bang anyone just to feel some closeness? AM I REALLY THAT MUCH OF A CLICHÉ?”
Armed with the fear of my own banality and realization that I was on the edge of a self-esteem breakdown, I slipped back into my gala dress and said “see you later”, knowing very well he’d probably never see me again. I was in a F*ck Funk and I needed to figure out how to get my mojo back.
How to get your mojo back by Dr. S. Jones
The following is my how-to guide for beating da funk and RSVPing “No” to the pity party that has recently characterized my love life.
- Le Gym
- The oldest adage in the book and for good reason. I am not by any means suggesting you need to look a certain way to be happy. I’m definitely not the skinniest person in the world but can honestly say I love myself as I am (90% of the time). HOWEVER, whether you are a size 10 or a size 2, going to the gym releases endorphins and endorphins make you happy. So get yo ass to dat spin class, simple as that.
- Show Gratitude
- This is the easiest fix ever. A couple years ago Harvard published a paper proving that the best way to feel happiness is by telling someone you love how important they are to you. It’s a pretty dense read so if you don’t feel like investing the hours that I was forced to during my undergrad, you can just watch this video from Soul Pancake that highlights the awesome power gratitude really has.
- PUT DOWN THE NETFLIX
- I know, Netflix is bae and we all love a Sunday afternoon binge-watching The Good Wife. But if you’re in a funk – Fk related or not – it’s important to put down the laptop and find something intrinsically motivating to do instead. For those of you without a psych background, intrinsically motivated activities are the ones that we do not because we have to or because we get something for it, but because they just feel good to do. For me that’s crafting because let’s face it, I’m an overgrown 5 year old.
- Grab a Kit Kat bar (and take a break)
- Needing a break from dating is perfectly acceptable, but it does not mean you give up hope. If you need to take some time, detox and delete all your dating apps I support you entirely! Untethering your self-esteem from your phone is only a positive thing, but it should not be a permanent state. We are too damn young to give up on finding love, so if that’s what you want, then you’re probably going to have to go out there again and just try. Have some good dates, have many bad ones, have another Kit Kat! Once the burnout passes you’ll be ready to start all over once again.
- Fake it till you make it
- If all else fails, act like you’re killing it and soon enough you will be. Studies have shown that even if you’re feeling sad, physically smiling leads to improved mood despite your best efforts at misery. Resting bitch face is a meme folks, not a way of life.
There you have it, my take on the undiagnosed ailment of the season. I have not shared anything revolutionary in this post, in fact this is more so a message to myself to buck up and take my own advice. Nonetheless, I want to give a shout out to all my homies who feel alone as “the most romantic day of the year” fast approaches. If you want to captain the she-man, male haters club and take a shot at lesbianism, fine. Indulge in the doldrums, depression and double baked cookie dough ice cream for the day, but not for good. In the immortal words of T-Swizzle, shake it off…spring is closer than you think.