After my epic meltdown at Yankee Stadium and the chaos that followed, I thought I was ready for anything. And by anything, I mean diving headfirst into the dating pool while still emotionally volatile, slightly mad, and fully unfiltered. October was a playground, and I was determined to see what kind of men were left to entertain me. Spoiler alert: the men were mostly disasters, with a few rare gems, Cub of course being the shining exception.

First, there was the short, full of himself guy. Oh honey. He was all ego, zero substance, and the kind of underwhelming human that makes you wonder how they survive in society without parental intervention. He strutted around like he was a prize, a walking accolade, when in reality, he was a 5 at best. I had dated real men with money, power, and charm, and this nepo baby somehow thought he was giving me access to a life I’d never known on a completely normal Tuesday. I entertained him out of boredom and leftover rage from my ex, thinking maybe a little fun could happen. I think the only thing really memorable about him was how underwhelming he was, and that he had a name I once wanted to give my future son, and he ruined the possibility of me ever in my life doing that. And he was an awful kisser, like he kissed how you would when you were practicing on your pillow in middle school, sloppy, rushed, and with no type of control. None. He was neither funny nor fun. Every second with him was like watching a slow motion train wreck, and I had front row seats. And not for nothing, he was also disgusting. I made Lupita swear to never share this but I’ll share it. I knew he was garbage when he was still down to sleep with me after I was so drunk to the point I threw up all in my bed. I was so drunk I could barely stay awake, and he still had the audacity to try to sleep with me. Just gross on my end and his because I would be so turned off at my own self, but you know we all can’t be disgusting little boys.

Then came the Raya resurrection. One of those old matches I forgot even existed decided to reappear nearly a year later. At first glance, he seemed interesting enough. Attractive, charming, maybe a little mysterious. But the more I interacted, the more I realized he was obsessed with an ex who wasn’t even the one I was getting over. His ego and fixation were ridiculous, and honestly, it was a blessing I never revealed my current ex because the jokes about my past heartbreak would have been unbearable. Spending time with him only confirmed that he and his easily drawable ex were the same speed, the same energy, and quite frankly, they deserved each other. Before his awful taste in people, he was entertaining me at that time in my life and I was awful, so I can clock everybody else’s tea. His best friend, who was a girl, was a rude little c u next Tuesday. The only person I met that I liked was his cousin. She was so cool and I wondered how they could come from the same family. She was more my type than him, in a nonsexual way. I was already going through it with my ex, and I did not have the space for him or his ex he was still stuck on, so I swiped him off my plate with the elegance of someone who finally remembered how to value their own energy. I ghosted him and went on to the next, who was barely older than my youngest brother.

And then came Cub. Ah, Cub. His nickname alone tells you he was a force of pure fun and chaos free energy. Taller than everyone else in the room, easygoing, and expecting nothing from me, Cub was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t demand attention, he didn’t bring drama, and he didn’t pretend to be a prize. He simply existed, charming, fun, and genuine, and I adored every second of it. Our time together was a high, a release, and a reminder that amidst the chaos and nonsense of men I had just survived, there was someone worth laughing with, someone who didn’t drain my energy, and someone who reminded me that fun and freedom are underrated virtues.

Cub was the ultimate reward of this chaotic dating period. He was a safe space wrapped in laughter, an escape from ego driven disasters, and a tall drink of calm energy in a season of chaos. But even with him, reality set in eventually. Highs are temporary, and fun can’t erase the lessons learned. It was time to regroup, reground, and prepare for the next chapter, and that next chapter would involve a very necessary hair transformation.

Looking back, this period of my life was absurd. It was filled with exes, Raya ghosts, nepo babies with inflated egos, and the unmatched brilliance of Cub. It was chaotic, messy, and absolutely hilarious. Every bad date was a lesson, every egotistical man a reminder of why I set boundaries, and every laugh with Cub a reward for surviving it all.

And that’s the beauty of this Menacing Muse era: chaos, rage, disappointment, fun, and transformation, all bundled into one unforgettable month. Dates from hell taught me more than any self help book could. They reminded me of my strength, my standards, and my ability to find joy even when the universe tries to hand you a parade of disasters.

By the time I was done with these dates, I had a renewed sense of self. I realized I didn’t need anyone to validate my energy or worth. I had laughter, lessons, and the memory of Cub to remind me that even in chaos, there’s fun to be had and freedom to be seized. And with that, I was ready for the final act: bleach. Because nothing says rebirth, survival, and unapologetic joy like turning your hair bright orange and letting the world know you’ve arrived.