Ask Polly: The Eventual Death of The Universe Is Making Me Anxious

Usually appearing here Wednesdays, Turning The Screw provides existential crisis counseling for the faint of heart. “Because time is running out!”

Dear Polly,

I am, by all accounts, a relatively happy, well-off, 21-year-old woman. I exercise regularly, eat well, have good friends, a great boyfriend, and I’m about to graduate from a shmancy private college in NYC debt-free (thanks, Mom and Dad!). Here’s the thing: lately, while I’m lying alone in bed, trying to go to sleep, I can’t stop thinking about death. I’m pretty sure it started when I took an astrophysics class last semester, and read an article about the “eventual heat death of the universe” where everything just sort of peters out and then there’s no energy in the universe and everything is cold and lifeless forever. FOR. EVER. For the past few weeks, just as I snuggle into bed alone and try to drift off to sleep, I have been having a mini-panic attack about the fact that I (and everyone I love) will be gone someday. They’ll just be… gone. Not to a better place, not to a worse one. I started thinking I should be more spiritual, and maybe that would help, but I’m not really one for religion.

Maybe these thoughts are suddenly coming up because I’m about to transition into a totally new, unknown phase of my life — and yes, in a very pathetic way, the idea of graduating and giving up Tuesday naps and libraries and spontaneous day drinking feels like some sort of death for me (especially because many of my friends and my boyfriend are younger, and will still be in school while I’m trying to become An Adult). I’m sure these nightly worry-fests about mortality aren’t helped by the fact that I have no idea what I want to “do” when I graduate, either (except I want it to involve writing! Got any jobs for me? Ha, ha. Ugh.).

Since I’m pretty sure you — despite your immense advice-giving talent — cannot tell me exactly what happens when we die, can you please help me stop having these thoughts? Ending the day in a ball of existential anxiety is not exactly working wonders for me.

Sincerely,

That College Kid

Dear TCK,

Sweet Lord on high, do I hear you! I was rather innocently reading about stellar collisions the other day when I stumbled on some passage about how the sun will eventually burn out, thereby ending our happy fun time on planet earth. Even though this information is not new to me, I was suddenly unnerved by my utter insignificance in the big scheme of things, as one of a slightly advanced breed of monkey on a minor planet of a very average star (as Stephen Hawking once put it).

And while I love to contemplate black holes, dark matter, The Big Freeze, The Big Rip, The Big Crunch, The Big Rip & Freeze & Crunch (which is a good name for a 32-ounce off-brand McFlurry), sometimes I can’t quite stomach too much of these things. Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to mull over astrophysics, or think about rape culture on college campuses, or consider how undeniably screwed the vast number of kids and families living far, far below the poverty line are. When I learn that the 6 heirs to the Walmart fortune had a net worth equal to the bottom 41.5 percent of Americans combined in 2010, I don’t want to think about it. I’d rather crack jokes and pour margaritas into my face.

Graduating from college is one of the scariest things you can do. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: College prepares you for the real world about as well as the “It’s a Small World” ride at Disneyland prepares you for international travel. You will feel like a loser, you will dislike many of your jobs and many of your coworkers. You will be deeply confused about how to spend your time, or what you want to do with your life. Post-college life is truly bewildering.

I was really discouraged and fearful in my early 20s. I wish I could travel back in time and tell myself to calm down, to stop worrying about making the right choices. A big part of the struggle then — and now — lies in maintaining a sensation of forward motion, however slow. If you want to be a writer, then write every day. Get into the habit of writing, and see where it takes you. Consider getting an internship — start looking now. Research places you might want to live. Resolve not to spend all of your time with your college friends or boyfriend. Try to map out a life instead of just falling into one.

But you also need a nightly routine that turns the worrying parts of your brain off. Either you should go to bed early and read yourself to sleep, or you should meditate and then write down three things you’re grateful for in a journal, then focus on those things as you fall asleep. Every time you think a bad thought in bed, you have to stop yourself. “I’m not allowed to think about this shit right now.” Repeat that to yourself. Clear your mind and think about something you’re grateful for again.

You have to train yourself to keep your neurotic mind from spinning in circles. Every smart person struggles with this stuff at one point or another. But you can’t let your fears swallow you whole. You can’t allow your brain to eat itself alive. You’ve got to nip that shit in the bud. Experiment with a few different methods for beating back your anxiety, and then call on them when you need them.

You will be frustrated and lonely for a while. That’s normal. Obstacles will appear in your path. Imagine how you might overcome those obstacles. Imagine your ideal career, and then think about a few small steps you might take to approach that career, very very slowly. It will take time, but every step counts, and every written word counts.

It’s true that eventually, you will grow old and die. In the meantime, though, you’re going to have an incredible adventure.

Polly

Dear Polly,

I have spent most of my adult life in serious relationships. Last summer I had a really nasty break-up, and decided to keep things casual for a time. It took a minute, but I now have a small group of lady-friends who are down for the sex semi-regularly. I got into a bit of an argument with one of my sex-friends, and am hoping to get some advice on whether I am being reasonable or not.

One of my favorite sex-friends called me last night, wasted at a bar, to complain about a “rapey” Canadian who was forcing himself on her and was bad at making out. She claimed he would not leave her alone, no matter how much she rejected him. She asked me to come and scare him off with my presence (I’m a boxer and am no small guy) or take her home with me. Of course I realize that my sex-friends will sometimes pick up other guys, and I accept that these girls will only keep calling me to the extent that I am more skilled in the amorous arts than your average bar bro. It did not bother me at all that she had been out picking up dudes. Honestly, I was a little smug about the fact that she had to hit me up to get the good lovin’. I was in the mood so I decided to swing through and pick her up. I called her as I entered the bar — expecting to quickly leave and smash. That’s when the situation turned a bit strange.

She came over to give me a big hug and thank me for rescuing her from the “rapey asshole.” I suggested we leave immediately, since swooping in to scoop a girl out from under a drunk guy is a recipe for drama. For professional reasons, I would rather not get into stupid bar fights. She agreed that we should leave, and told her lady friend that she was leaving. Her friend insisted that she say goodbye to the rapey Canadian, and I was surprised to hear her respond “of course I’ll say goodbye — I really like him!” After repeatedly emphasizing to her friend how much she liked the guy, she walked over to say goodbye, which consisted of a lot of making out and heavy-petting. The contact was obviously completely consensual — and initiated by her. She kept at it for some time, in which time I turned around and left the bar without her.

I declined her confused phone calls, and sent a quick text explaining that I was a grown-ass man who was not amused by her little-girl games. Her attempt to set me up for public drama was far too transparent and obnoxious for me to play along. She proceeded to send me a million angry texts, accusing ME of being the dramatic game player. I turned off my phone, and went to sleep. This morning I texted her, offering to meet up sober and explain my need for a few ground rules for moving forward with our FWB arrangement. She said she had no interest in following any “rules set by a fuck-buddy,” and said I am being a drama-queen (king?).

In my opinion, it is reasonable to set a few boundaries with sex-friends, like: (1) no sexual contact with other people while I am present; (2) no talking about sex with other people, even though we both know it happens; (3) no coming over to screw me right after you just screwed other people since that’s dirty… etc. What do you think? Is it unfair to impose rules on people who are sex friends with no potential for becoming a girlfriend? I don’t want to be controlling: just keep my natural instincts in check through the creation of social norms that avoid triggering the possessive caveman inside me. Assuming you side with me and think that rules are acceptable at all, do you have any other suggested regulations to keep things casual and classy? Your advice would be much appreciated.

Best,

Lorenzo P. Scrodge

Dear Lorenzo,

First of all, I want to thank you for offering what is now my all-time favorite sentence from any “Turning the Screw” letter:

“It took a minute, but I now have a small group of lady-friends who are down for the sex semi-regularly.”

It. Took. A. Minute.

Anyway, let’s skip over ultra-classy sex-friend regulations for the moment and state the obvious: This lady is a Dementor who will suck your soul straight out of your face if you let her. Normally, I’d admire her swagger — clearly she’d like an upgrade from sex-friend status to elite frequent flyer status, but she doesn’t want to communicate this using words. Somehow, grinding up on this rapey Canadian is supposed to do the trick. But: Enlisting your help and protection, using the R word, and then throwing down with the guy? That is major league crazy cakes action right there. She gives the self-respecting sluts of the world a bad name, not to mention the fact that her actions are an insult to the many, many people who’ve suffered sexual abuse and then been labeled “confused” or “reckless” as a result.

Frankly, the fact that you’re still willing to fuck her doesn’t reflect well on you. If I were you, I would run away as fast as my pumped-up boxer’s gams could carry me. If she wants to understand just how offensive it is to characterize someone as a sexual predator, ask for protection from that person, and then make out with him, she should be directed to the many, many articles about the rise of rape culture and the myriad of ways young women find their souls sucked out of their bodies by men who don’t give a flying fuck about them.

Speaking of not giving a fuck: Setting boundaries with sex friends is, of course, perfectly reasonable, but only if you’re totally honest about your own behavior from the start. If you’re really rotating through 3–4 fuck buddies a week, you should probably make that clear to women you’re sleeping with straight out of the gate. As in “I have a few different romantic entanglements right now.” Or at least: “This is not going to be a monogamous thing; I’m not into monogamy at the moment.” (Which implies not just “We’re not going out and really never will” but also “I am actively fucking other women.”) It’s one thing to say “Let’s explore a no-obligation entanglement” and quite another to say “I can work you into my rotation soon, because I have an opening on Wednesday nights.” You say it’s gross for a girl to come over right after fucking someone else? I think it’s sort of nasty to sleep with a guy who’s slept with three or four other women that very week. I don’t really care whether he did it an hour or two days ago. I can’t help feeling that you want to keep your own habits hidden, while demanding a combination of full-disclosure and don’t ask/don’t tell from your partners.

Moreover, discussing your boundaries needs to include asking about your partner’s boundaries as well. Frankly, it sounds to me like you’re a little emotionally detached, a little cocky, and also a little prone to laying down ground rules, Daddy-style, rather than beginning a sensitive conversation with an open mind and an open heart, and actually listening to what the other person has to say.

It seems like you might have some control issues. Have you been extremely possessive of past girlfriends? Is one of the reasons you’re actively pursuing this very ambitious rotating fuck-buddy lifestyle that you want to avoid focusing all of your anxious, controlling energy on one person? I have a friend who battled being a jealous guy by instead being a guy who slept around constantly, and who professed often that he “didn’t believe in monogamy.” He looks back on this and feels that he was hiding from his vulnerability and fears of intimacy. I don’t know much about you, but I’m going to guess that it would help you a lot to talk to a therapist regularly to explore you ideas about sex and love and everything in between.

Because, I’ll be honest, your situation feels a little bit fraught. You’ve got to steer clear of troublemakers and state your boundaries clearly at the start if you don’t want to stir up a lot of unnecessary drama. If you keep this sloppiness up, it’s only going to take a minute for your small group of lady friends to get a hell of a lot smaller.

That said? Enjoy it while it lasts, because nothing lasts for very long in this crazy, mixed-up energy-shedding universe.

Polly

Have you come to terms with the Big Rip & Freeze & Crunch yet? Write to Polly and tell her about it!

Heather Havrilesky (aka Polly Esther) is The Awl’s existential advice columnist. She’s also a regular contributor to The New York Times Magazine, and is the author of the memoir Disaster Preparedness (Riverhead 2011). She blogs here about scratchy pants, personality disorders, and aged cheeses.

Sad robot photo by Santos Gonzalez. Bottom photo by 8one6.