fuck autopilot. 15 ways to live a sexier, juicier life w/o firing up a sex toy

One of the many mindfucks about autopilot is that it can feel so good in the moment. It's easy, it's comfortable, it's an escape that lets you zone out instead of show up. But what if you're not actually numb, you're just under-stimulated by your own life? In a chaotic, rinse-and-repeat world, the hours are still yours, so the question is, what are you going to do with them? Here are 15 ways to interrupt the blur and seriously fuck autopilot. All it costs you is a bit of your attention.

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Flirt with life. With the person in line beside you at the coffee shop. With the puppy that wags its tail as you pass by. With the bartender stirring your Manhattan. There's aliveness in not giving a fuck whether you seem too impressed with the little things. 

Take yourself out to dinner or a cocktail by yourself. Sit at the bar and chat with the bartender, find out what under-the-radar bottles they're opening, where the chefs are eating this week. Or, read a book, be a voyeur, plot your next storyline on a cocktail napkin. Order the tasting menu with the pairing and see if it meets your palate.

Ditch the phone in your handbag and disappear in the world around you whether it’s a walk through shops in a new neighborhood, a stroll through an art gallery (where you engage with an artist or owner), a pop-up at your local bookstore. Dress for the occasion and see how long you can delay the doomscroll. 

Host a weekly invite-only party with a different guest list only your most interesting people with a new rotation each week. Repeat invites is a luxury.

Bring your wardrobe back to life by rotating back in the pieces you've forgotten about or moved to the back. Rethink them, re-accessorize them and book a date with them.

Book a hotel suite for one night in your own city, sleep late, order room service, then check out and live like a local in that neighborhood before heading back to your own space.

Walk through your dream home. That penthouse apartment, oceanfront bungalow, wraparound porch, artists loft? Set up an appointment and dress for the occasion.

Make a list of the compliments you've gotten that have made a lasting impact. Maybe they feel like an old version of you, maybe they embarrassed you, maybe you don't entirely believe them. Keep them handy when you need a hit.

Think outside the selfie. Photograph what's around you, instead. Capture the details, the corners, the strange oddities you've discovered just by slowing down to notice and observe.

Nothing says autopilot like a signature fragrance. Hunt down some new scents and switch them up by your mood, your event, your style that day.

Disrupt your playlists with new genres, different artists, beats that move your body entirely differently. Experiment with tempo, instruments, male and female voices, lyrics or no lyrics. A little ear candy can fire up creativity, brain power and hips in powerfully fertile ways.

Wear the lingerie harness under the power suit, the bustier under the jacket to the board meeting or the fuck-off bra and panty set while you're pitching investors. They'll never know and you'll know they'll never know.

Use all the things you're saving for a special occasion every damn day. The aphrodisiac candles, the cloth napkins, the cocktail glasses (and spirits that go with them) the designer sex toy, the luxury lingerie, that LBD that adores your curves. The only reason you need is that it's Monday afternoon and you're fucking autopilot.