Cold Plunge, Still Single

Darling, I need you to understand something about the modern man and his cold plunge. It is not fitness. It is not wellness. It is a very expensive, very public way of saying ‘I am avoiding a therapist and this tub was cheaper than a divorce lawyer.’ My ex has been doing a cold plunge every morning since March, and he wants a medal for it. Sir, you are sitting in ice water in your backyard. The only thing you are regulating is your HOA’s opinion of you.

The Cold Plunge Diaries: A Love Story Nobody Asked For

He texted me — unprompted, uninvited, completely unnecessary — to inform me he did his cold plunge and feels ‘so regulated.’ Regulated. Like he’s a thermostat. Like he’s the Reserve Bank announcing interest rates. Meanwhile this man cannot regulate a simple text message at two in the morning to a woman who blocked his number in her heart eight months ago. You want regulation? Try going a single week without narrating your personal growth to someone who is actively trying to forget your birthday.

Cold Plunge Culture Is Just Men Finding New Ways To Avoid Feelings

I’ve dated men who ran marathons to avoid commitment, men who took up boxing to avoid commitment, and now I’ve got one taking up the cold plunge to avoid commitment while also avoiding warmth, which feels thematically accurate. He’s not healing. He’s performing healing for an audience of one — me — because apparently my opinion of his emotional journey is the only metric that matters. Darling, I am not your parole officer. I am not grading this. There is no report card for ‘Stopped Being Insufferable: A Memoir.’

And the thing about a cold plunge is it lasts, what, three minutes? That is not healing, that is a dare. You know what takes longer than three minutes? The group chat I had to create just to process the fact that this man once cried during a phone commercial but can apparently submerge himself in ice water without flinching. Pain tolerance is selective, my friends. Emotional pain, unbearable. Physical discomfort for content purposes, thrilling.

Still Single, Still Texting, Still Somehow My Problem

Here’s my favorite part. He’s been ‘healing’ since March. It is now whatever month it currently is, and he remains single, and he remains texting me, which tells me the healing is going about as well as a cold plunge in a kiddie pool. If you were actually healed, sir, you would not need me as a witness. Healed people do not send ‘u up’ energy texts dressed up as wellness updates. That’s not regulation, that’s relapse with better branding.

So when he sent that message, I did what any self-respecting woman with excellent boundaries and a slightly unhinged sense of humor would do. I told him maybe he should try blocking himself. No app required. No ice bath necessary. Just pure, free, do-it-yourself self-care. Honestly it’s the most effective wellness advice I’ve ever given, and I didn’t even charge for a consultation.

Let this be a lesson, ladies: if a man’s healing journey still has your name as a pit stop, he hasn’t started healing, he’s just outsourced his accountability to your group chat. The cold plunge is temperature. The real chill you need is from him — specifically, chilling out and leaving your phone alone. Stay icy, stay unbothered, and for the love of all things sacred, if your ex ever texts you about his cold plunge, reply with absolutely nothing. Silence is the only recovery program that’s ever actually worked on a man like that.

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