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One of my biggest problems in life is constantly falling for the delusion that I can get people with wildly divergent views — people who hate each other — to see things differently. I have the delusional belief that I can help people find common ground by giving both sides a third way of looking at a problem.

Objectively, I know that I’m wrong to believe I can change the way others see things, but I spend too much time trying to play this unintentional “mediator” role.

And it often takes an emotional toll on me. That’s what it’s doing right now.

I’m going to really try to step back from commenting on anything around Donald Trump right now, simply because his supporters and his most dishonest detractors are upsetting me equally. I find that there’s no way to deal with all of the dishonesty coming from both sides about Trump.

I’ve made it very clear — for years — that I think Trump is a lying narcissist who is uniquely dangerous. He is an evil man. Nobody could confuse me for someone who has any support for him, but I’m also infuriated by people who base their attacks against him on irrational and dishonest arguments.

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Oh, I don’t wanna be alone
I wanna find a home
And I wanna share it with you
— Maggie Heath, “Hello My Old Heart”

I’ve been so busy for the last few years that I haven’t had time to hope.

I’ve been busy with a real estate brokerage. I’ve been consumed by trying to figure out how to write and produce a video series about how to escape from our dysfunctional culture. And I’ve been focused on how to slowly renovate my old house and improve my financial condition.

In the meantime, my heart was locked away. I successfully distracted myself — for the most part — from my need for love and family and community.

But then I fell into a hole a few weeks ago. Like Alice falling down a rabbit hole into Wonderland, I found myself in a place — metaphorically speaking — where things didn’t quite make sense. The pieces didn’t fit into a coherent narrative. It’s been more like finding puzzle pieces and not knowing what they might be, but somehow feeling as though they’re meaningful.

It all started in a grocery store.

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It was a simple and innocent question, but I didn’t know how to answer it.

“Was she hot?”

I had met a woman earlier in the week who had impressed me and I told someone about her. This was the man’s instinctive question about the woman. He didn’t intend any disrespect. He apparently thought it was the obvious question about a woman who had impressed another man.

He didn’t ask whether she was brilliant. He didn’t ask whether she was funny. Or insightful or interesting or creative or loving. Or a dozen other things that seemed more obvious to me to ask. He was asking about how she presented herself sexually — because that’s what our popular culture has taught most people to value.

I didn’t know how to answer his question, because the things I found impressive about the woman didn’t start with superficial sexuality. Yes, she was very attractive, so she could have presented herself as a “hot girl” if she had wanted, but that was the wrong frame for this discussion.

I love physical beauty in women. And I appreciate sexuality in women. But all of the other things I appreciate about women are lenses which modify whether a women is attractive to me. Unfortunately, something in our culture now teaches men to see women as “hot” or “not,” irrespective of those other factors. And it leads more and more women to present themselves as mindless “hot girls” in order to gain approval and desire from men who have bought into that frame of judgment.

This mindset is dangerous and wrong — for both men and woman.

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