Bare Bones: I'm Not Lonely If You're Reading This Book by Bobby Bones

Author:Bobby Bones [Bones, Bobby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062417367
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-05-17T07:00:00+00:00

FIGHT. GRIND. REPEAT.

AND SOMETIMES LOSE

If I had to describe my life in Austin in three words, it would be these: Fight. Grind. Repeat.

When I started doing mornings, soon after I arrived in Texas, and had to start waking up at an ungodly hour, I became very disciplined. I mean, I was never a slacker. In college I hardly had time to breathe. But this was different. The stakes were much higher and the margin for error much smaller. Like I’ve said before, the first step, foundation—whatever you want to call it—for success is being reliable and on time.

I wanted more than anything to be successful at my job, so I began a routine that I follow to this day:

Wake up at 3 A.M.

Arrive at the office by 4 A.M.

Start the show at 5 A.M.

Lunch at 10:30 A.M.

Nap before noon (if it’s not before noon, I don’t take a nap)

Work out at 3 P.M.

In bed by 8 P.M.

If that schedule sounds tough, that’s because it is. And remember, I don’t drink coffee. But I forced myself to do the right thing over and over and over again until it became ingrained in me. Every day was a fight—a fight against my own exhaustion and a fight against every other show on the air. The chip on my shoulder that I seem to have been born with only made me that much more competitive. If everyone else in radio was out to get me, I was going to retaliate by getting every listener out there on my side. Fighting every day—that was the grind. And then I just woke up again at 3 A.M. to repeat it.

My fight club mentality was good for the show but not quite as great for my personal life. There was a period in Austin of about five years that I was single. That’s one hell of a dry spell to have in your twenties. It got so bad that it became a running joke on the air; we kept a tally of how long it had been since I’d had sex. That’s right, I didn’t have sex. Not one time. In five years.

I liked to say that my hours were not conducive to a social life. Not too many girls love going to dinner at four thirty in the afternoon. But the truth is that my problem with women ran much deeper than having to ask them out for an early-bird special.

It started with an inherent sense of guilt that makes casual sex impossible for me. I have a similar viewpoint on food, sex, and anything else that is pleasurable but could potentially affect my life in a negative way. Before I engage in the act, I always ask myself, Is it worth the risk? Is it worth the worry about the potential risk? Then I weigh the rewards against the punishment.

For example, if I drink a milk shake, I’ll enjoy that milk shake for twenty minutes. But then I’m going to feel guilty about it for about five hours.

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