Except the part where it isn’t.
In all honesty, most of it is pretty easy in the modern age. All of the information that you need is on the internet and it’s easy as shit to find. Need help putting it all together? No probs, you got Facebook. You got about a dozen other places, too, if you hate it as much as me and you have more conviction about it than I do. It’s really not all that tough. But here’s the tough part – wrangling four or more adults with almost zero scheduling in common. Getting the twenty adults that you want to spend a nice afternoon or evening with to all be interested enough in one thing to all agree to put some of their precious time into it, and I do say “their precious time” without any irony. I really don’t, ’cause listen, dudes… we’re adults. I often joke about not feeling like an adult or how I don’t do adult things. Motherfuck – I have a mortgage. Yeah, I’m an adult. Huge chunks of my average day are auto-promised to just deal with life-in-general.
At least 40 hours each week is promised to making sure that I have the money to spend on things, friends, family, places, and just making sure that I can continue to live. You know, stuff like a roof over my head, transportation, sustenance, insurance, medicine, toiletries, a bed, condoms to not get diseases/knock someone up, so on and so forth. I guess some of that isn’t really needed, but I still haven’t even counted other unimportant-but-completely-important shit like the internet and headphones. And I’m not the only one – everyone that I want to hang out with has to do the same shit (except maybe not the condoms because maybe they aren’t getting “strange” because maybe they’re not pieces of shit).
Speaking of being a piece of shit that requires a condom budget to not knock someone up or die, you don’t need condoms unless you’re going to use them. In order to use them, I need to schedule time to place my penis within a vagina. That also requires putting in time to find a vagina that will allow itself to be invaded by my penis. I’m trying to not look so vomit-inducing while on top of the person with said vagina, and that requires a bunch of time, too. I write. I (try to) play guitar. I play video games. I sleep. Sometimes as much as six hours, and man, it’s a real bummer to lose those hours. I need to take time to eat. I need to take time to shit. I don’t need to take time to masturbate, but I need to. I need to clean my home. I need to clean my car. I need to service my car and maintain my home. I need to fix shit when it gets broken. I need to clean the dishes that I used to eat the food that I needed time to eat and now I need time to clean that shit. I need to fold and hang clothes. I need to organize. I need to do this and that and fuck fucking all and fucking forever and shit never ends.
And I have hobbies. I have guitars that I try to build and haven’t made any significant progress on because there’s always some other stupid bullshit standing in the way. I have games that I’ve been trying to make. I have books that I’ve been halfassed writing. I have funky projects that I’ve been halfassed working on a while and now really want to finish but don’t have the time to actually work on them. I have some things I have been building. I have some other wacky shit that I do and don’t have time for.
And then I want to go on vacation and I want to hang out with my friends and I want to go fishing. Fuck, man. Life’s a dick.
tl;dr – It’s tough to plan events because everyone’s lives are always packed with living.
Also, it’s tough to go to certain events when you’re trying to lose weight. I really shouldn’t go to all-day eat-fests when I want to drop another 40.
Oh, right – I dropped 40 pounds since February. Congrats me. I’ll talk about it later. And funnier. Sorry ’bout that.