I'm going to rip off the band-aid straight away. 2024 was seriously the worst year of my life. I'm 45, and I don't think I've had to endure so much in the other 44 years collectively.

So fuck that noise.

I'm not doing a reboot, a new year's resolution. Nor is this a pivot, or reorganization.

It's straight back to basics. In order to love, you need to love yourself first. I'm not working on that anymore. I love myself. I love my life. I'd like to share it with someone that's as emotionally secure and available as well.

I have a few inane talents. For instance, sometimes it's just one strum of a chord and I can tell you the song. Another is the ability to empathize with practically anyone based on my life experiences. Even if that means flexing some street smarts.

It's a really positive ability and I like to get people to smile, usually laugh. I was raised to believe that everyone and anyone deserves respect. Unless they prove you otherwise. I learned that from my late mom. She passed last January.

That was the first of so many dominos that began to fall into a bad 12-month track. Weaving and spiraling through the days until it's finale of cutting a bag to make the curtains drop on a bad year.

So here's where I am at:

New apartment in a city. No car for now. Cats that act like dogs. Mentally centered. Had an amicable divorce that was defaulted in early December. No kids and I can't have any.

I feel like I'm back to a baseline. I'm back to me. I feel like I'm ready to chat for now and see where it will go. What's important to me is that I'm open to just getting to know someone, friendship or more. So I'm open to any replies.

There's more to me than one year. It was a bad one, but last night I was told I've lived many lives, and she's right. I have.

I'm going to try and be an open book. Anyone is welcome to drop me a line. But let's focus on the new year, and burn '24 to the ground.