You will never forget 9 Hours Later which is the fifth volume in my Daily Autobiography series. It’s a daily diary written in the aftermath of divorce, while living alone again, dating as a sober man, and rebuilding momentum one ordinary day at a time. I didn’t write this to fit a genre or deliver a clean arc. I wrote it to document what actually happens when the structure of marriage disappears and you’re left alone with time, desire, discipline, and your own thoughts.

This book follows real days as they unfold—long conversations that go far longer than expected, awkward dates, moments of intimacy, routines that hold things together, and stretches of time that feel both compressed and endless. I’m not interested in polishing events into something inspirational or digestible. I’m interested in the texture of days: what it feels like to wake up alone, to date after divorce, to balance boundaries and desire, and to figure out who you are again when no one else is setting the rhythm.

Sobriety runs through everything here. I write about Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, emotional regulation, and the daily discipline required to stay sober in AA while navigating dating and modern life. As a divorced dad, I write about co-parenting, time with my kids, and the strange contrast between family life and solitude. Alongside that are reflections on work, creativity, routine, yoga, tennis, and the slow process of rebuilding personal momentum without pretending it’s linear.

The humor in this book isn’t dad-joke humor. I’m not interested in safe punchlines or polite self-deprecation. This is the return of the darker, sharper humor I had as a teenager before life sanded it down—humor that comes from noticing absurdity, discomfort, and contradiction and letting it sit there. It’s closer to the tone of a dark stand-up comedy memoir than a motivational one, but it lives on the page as observation, not performance. I don’t explain the jokes. I just write what happens and let the humor emerge where it does.

Some days in these pages are quiet and controlled. Others spiral. Plans stretch far longer than expected. Conversations go sideways. Dating reveals both vulnerability and bravado. Time behaves strangely. I’m interested in the tension between discipline and spontaneity, between routine and chaos, and between wanting connection and needing space. Nothing is wrapped up neatly, and nothing is exaggerated for effect.

This isn’t a story of triumph or collapse. No hero's journey. It’s a process memoir—a set of dating diaries and daily entries about staying sober, living alone again, parenting after divorce, and continuing to show up even when the days don’t resolve cleanly. If you’re drawn to sober memoirs, divorced dad perspectives, candid dating diaries, love addiction recovery, or stand-up–adjacent humor rooted in real life rather than performance, this book documents that space honestly.

I wrote 9 Hours Later for readers who value directness over reassurance, dark humor over safe jokes, and the reality of rebuilding a life over polished conclusions. It’s a record of the days as they happened, told in my own voice, one day at a time.