As I sit here in my parents kitchen, I can hear the ping of the baseball bats from the little league fields that sit back to back nestled underneath a forest of maple trees and the buzzing tower of stadium lights.
I grew up on these fields making diving plays at short stop knowing full well, despite being a Mets fan, that I would be the next Derek Jeter—with just a little more speed.
A major league home run away from the fields you can hear the Metro North train squeal and blare it’s horn into it’s final stop of New Canaan, Connecticut. My home town.
Right on the other side of those train tracks was my friend Travis’ house who hosted the best house parties in high school. Something you’d dream up in a movie.
Make your way down to the basement to meet the main Beirut table (we don’t call it Beer Pong in Connecticut). If you peak around the corner you’d find a make out room filled with a big sectional couch, lots of cushions and dim lighting. Behind the basement stairs were 2 more Beirut tables lined with high chairs and when you make your way back to base of the stairs to grab your next beer from the main cooler, you could stop at a beat up old couch and grab a seat.
So that’s what I did one night in the early Spring of senior year.
On one of those torn up couches below an Old School poster I worked up the courage to lean in for a kiss from one of the popular girls, Sara.
The butterflies were churning up the beer in my stomach begging me fly away and maintain status quo. I was no player. I had only kissed one or two girls at this point in my life. This was risky.
However, Sara and I had a lot of classes together and we developed an intimacy throughout the year that was undeniable. Tonight was no different. The vibes were vibin and the couch was cozy.
I am going to attempt the boldest move of my entire high school career and high school is almost over.
The time is now.
I leaned in 70
She leaned in 20
Fuck yes.
It’s gonna happen.
This will alter the course of my life.
Confidence.
Swagger.
A month long smile that even stepping in vomit barefoot couldn’t wipe off.
I could feel her exhale on my lips but at the last second she pulled away, tilted her head down and whispered, “it would be too embarrassing.”
She stood to go and left me to think.
Rejected?
Devastated?
Did she actually just say that?
Is it because I’m not cool enough?
Is this funny?
Do I tell the boys?
Sheesh.
We all had a hunch anyway.
She’s happily married to a woman now.
Travis and I met 3 miles west at West Elementary School where I was the first kid to start wearing Hawaiian shirts.
This must have been because of Ace Ventura.
I loved Ace. His vibe. A Pet Detective who did things far outside the norm. To be so boldly different. Hilarious.
He had no problem being fully himself.
My kind of guy.
Out joy and adoration I copied his style.
I didn’t question it.
I requested my mom take me to Bob’s Stores off exit 38 to grab a few Hawaiian shirts.
Soon enough, all the boys were wearing Hawaiian shirts.
Life was good at 12 years old.
There is so much depth to The Voldemort Project.
It started as naming my greatest fear publicly so I could defeat it—just as Harry Potter was the only one to say Voldemort’s name and also the only one to defeat him.
So I declared that I will make $150,000 in the last 6 months of 2025 and document the journey.
This is scary because I could publicly fail to make the money and you, my ideal client, may think I can’t help you with your content if I can’t help myself—especially because my work (marketing) is synonymous with making money.
If all this is true, then this business I’ve worked so hard to built, that means so much to me, that is me, makes me a failure.
Being labeled as a financial failure isn’t really the scariest part, though.
It’s what my unconscious fears
I am the youngest in my family.
Growing up my older brother, Adam, took incredible care of me. Still does.
My biggest supported. Always had my back. Still does.
My ride or die. Still is.
If he was there that night at Travis’, he’d have been telling me to go in for the kiss long before I sat down on that couch.
Being a grade above me, he was always blazing the trail and inviting me along for the ride. Never the annoying little brother, but a friend that was in on the jokes.
I loved to be included. I had a front row seat to observe and learn from this confident, older, wiser, brother of mine.
I felt like I had two dad’s growing up. Never a shortage of inspiration and guidance.
My dad took the train into NYC Monday through Friday in his suit and tie just so he could rest up at the office before coming back home to do his real job—train my brother and I to be top tier athletes.
He’d pull into the driveway in his red Infiniti, swing out of the car still wearing his suit, drop his shoulder strap laptop bag off on the front porch, Adam or I would hand him his tennis racket and a few balls, and he’d rip 109 mph serves at us so we could practice our diving catches for the baseball season.
We would go until mom called us inside. And then go a little longer.
Mom always made sure her boys were well fed. Home made dinners every night with a huge hunk of protein next to cut up string cheese that we would stack like coins and strawberries expertly cut in half with the core removed.
You might ask yourself, “There’s a core to a strawberry?”
Yes. Get that shit outta here.
I am unconditionally loved by the three most important people in my life.
I’ve never questioned it.
Not once.
They take great care of me.
Sadly, that seems to be the thing I fear most.
If I can’t grow the business I want, create the impact I want to make on the world, and make the money I dream of making, I will always be this little boy who needs to be taken care of.
I have held a lot of disgust for this little boy.
Rejecting him for fear of always being him.
It’s that exact rejection that has kept me stuck for so long.
Can’t I see, so clearly, how magnificent that little boy is.
He didn’t need to wear Hawaiian shirts because they were the coolest style choice that would get his crush to fall in love with him.
He chose to wear Hawaiian shirts because they were fun. He felt like they were an embodiment of his true silly self.
No second guessing.
Not needing validation from the world before he can enjoy himself, but knowing that the act of wearing what he wants is what’s enjoyable.
I love little Matt for making that aligned choice.
I always thought of Little Matt as this shy timid boy.
But he’s got strength I admire.
He’s got a love for himself that I want to nurture.
I see that I never needed Sara to kiss me back for that night to be a success. I’m proud of high school Matt for being bold enough to even go for that kiss because there aren’t many boys in my grade who would have even tried.
Little Matt is bold.
Little Matt is creative and confident.
Little Matt knows when life is fun and playful that changing the world and making good money is inevitable, the same way he knew he would be the next Derek Jeter with a little more speed and nobody could tell him differently.
Little Matt is no longer a burden.
Little Matt is my leader as he joins me along on the Voldemort Project, and dating again, and winning tennis matches, and changing the world.
Voldemort Project Update
$7,039.46 / $150,000
The new offer is becoming rapidly more clear as I continue to journal on it and being formulating the structure.
It is heavily community based. My vision is that is that everyone is an expert in their own craft of nervous system regulation, therapeutic or wellness practices.
I am not asking the community to be coaches (though there will likely be opportunities to lead a practice), simply that you, as a community member, already have the ability to hold space for an individual as they share fears, ideas, and big desires.
It will be a beautiful mix of feminine and masculine practices to support you in (1) living your most full and bold life and (2) creating content that reflects the depth of your work so you can call in aligned clients, expand your reach, and change the world.
I will break down the structure more in my next Newsletter.
If you haven’t checked out my recent posts on IG, pop in and say hi and let me know what’s landing with you!
Love,
Little Matt who was bold enough to lean in for that kiss (I didn’t go in with this much tongue, I promise)
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