On Neophilia, Deepening and Making God Laugh

At the dawn of a new year, amidst the buzz of a fresh season, I feel compelled to write you a little love note. One of my university teachers—a wise guide both in academia and life—had this ritual: before the onset of each class, he’d ask us a simple yet profound question: “What have you learned this week?”

We’d go around in a circle, each beginning with the words “I’ve learned.” It wasn’t meant for discussion, nor did he comment on our answers. It could be anything: a private discovery, a theoretical insight, a fun fact, or even an existential revelation. Nothing was too banal or too intimate. It felt like a personal diary entry shared in silence, a collective bearing witness to each other’s journeys.

Sontag once said of journaling: “In the journal I do not just express myself more openly than I could to any person; I create myself.” To create oneself requires bearing witness (with-ness, if you will), and that’s exactly what happened in those moments. Inspired by that spirit, I’d like to share a few lessons I’ve learned over the past four seasons. Lessons I’m carrying with me into 2025—and inviting you to join me in exploring. I learned that…

1. I’m perpetually in love — with the new

Did you know you can categorize animals by their attraction or aversion to newness? Neophilia, the love of novelty, is a measure of curiosity, adaptability, and the capacity to thrive in changing environments. Neophiles are drawn to new experiences, quick to embrace learning, and often playful risk-takers.

A creature that embodies this trait perfectly? The raccoon. Equal parts scoundrel and sweetheart, they’re curious, fearless, and endlessly entertaining. Watching videos of raccoons rummaging through kitchen cabinets never fails to lift my spirits. Coincidentally, my friends often liken me to a raccoon—a charming troublemaker, elegantly mischievous, with a taste for exploration and play.

Learning about neophilia gave me a new word to describe an old truth about myself. It explains my love for being a courtesan: a modern-day adventurer, muse, and partner in novelty. Courtesans throughout history have been celebrated for their intelligence, wit, and allure. They were often pioneers in their own right, living with freedom and flair. Guided by their libertine legacies, I find my own joy and purpose.

So, what does this mean for you? If you’re yearning to try something new—to explore uncharted territories, indulge in the unfamiliar, or play with the unknown—I’m your perfect partner in crime. Let’s venture into the novel together. I double dare you.

2. Deepening requires demarcation

While I adore novelty, I’ve also come to treasure the depth that develops over time with a lover. I’ve always prioritised quality over quantity in life as in work (and am very privileged to be able to do so), valuing fewer but longer engagements that ripen with time. The best connections strike a balance between stability and adventure, trust and freedom.

Deepening requires demarcation. Brecht once said, “In der Begrenzung zeigt sich der Meister” (“In limitation, the master reveals himself”). I feel that within the clear boundaries of our encounters, a unique kind of freedom is revealed. Far from diminishing or devaluing the connection, the clear parameters of companionship liberate it from societal expectations, allowing us to craft something truly artful and ours. A lover recently remarked that, in a way, paid companionship allowed the both of us to give more: I show up as my best self, in my finest lingerie and silks, offer my unbridled attention generously and with genuine pleasure— and in turn, our arrangement seems to open up a space to be freely, and intently, romantic without seeming “too much.” In limitation, this mistress does reveal herself.

So yes, I do love the rush of the new—but I equally cherish the slow burn of familiarity, the layered richness that comes from building something meaningful together within the constructive constraints of companionship. And when novelty and depth are combined, the possibilities are endless.

3. If you want to make God laugh, tell Her about your plans

One of my favourite moments from rewatching Shtisel this season is when good old patriarch Shulem exclaims this saying (with he/him pronouns in this case). If 2024 taught me anything, it’s how unpredictable life can be. Many of my plans didn’t materialize—I worked out exactly once (May 22nd, it’s marked in my calendar), didn’t ski (someone, please take me skiing!), and wrote a grand total of three pages in my journal. But the unexpected more than made up for it: I finally built my website, got my finances in order, ate an exorbitant amount of oysters, drove at heart-racing speed up and down the steep roads of the Spanish Pyrenees, and met some truly remarkable people along the way.

The year was full. My cup ran over. I traveled extensively, from Thailand and Indonesia to countless European cities as well as stretched out Mediterranean landscapes, my suitcase never quite empty (speaking of suitcases, mine desperately needs replacing). It’s been a wild ride—and I have an inkling it’s about to get wilder. God has been having a good time, and honestly, who wouldn’t want to make her laugh?

Intentions for the New Year

In 2025, I’d like to spend more time with single women and couples, immerse myself in as many saunas, bodies of water and steam baths as possible—and maybe even make it to the gym more than once. Travel-wise, I long for prolonged train journeys (Orient Express, hint hint), hours of wistfully gazing out of the window with a book in my lap. Perhaps this will be the year I finally see the Northern Lights. Who knows?

As I look ahead and the light slowly returns, I dream of more adventures, more laughter, and also some much-needed stillness in between. But most of all, I’d like to zoom in. I plan to savour everything I can see, touch, and taste right here in front of me. In Arendt’s words: “prepare for the worst, expect the best, and take what comes”.

And as she herself knew, the world is plural and could not exist without our shared participation in it. This year, I want to learn how to better share the blessings I’ve been given (God knows the distribution of gifts is far from equal!)—and contribute more to this beautiful, bizarre, and wondrous life we call our own.

And to you, my fellow travellers: thank you for brightening my year and sustaining my love for both novelty as well as depth. Thank you for making me feel like a sun. It’s been a privilege to share this journey with you, and I can’t wait to see where 2025 takes us.

As Sontag might say, let’s anticipate pleasure everywhere—and find it. Everything matters. Let’s involve ourselves wholly.

To new beginnings.

Love,

Charlie

P.S. I updated my Throne and Wishlist in case you’d like to include me in your New Year’s resolutions!

P.P.S. Above is a pic of me indulging in the beloved 21-grapes New Year’s tradition – only one missing from this scene is you ;-)

P.P.S. Don’t be a stranger!