Community Stories: Part I – The Exit Watch Fallacy
A thoughtful reflection on the elusive “exit watch” from community contributor Mike—funny, honest, and deeply relatable.
We’re excited to launch our Community Stories series with a thoughtful piece from Mike, known to many of you as @rockmastermike. His reflections dig into something a lot of us chase (and rarely catch): the elusive “exit watch.”
The Exit Watch Fallacy
By Mike — Community Contributor
I’ve been chasing “the one” for decades.
It started in the ‘80s with a Swatch Yamaha in Augusta, Georgia. That watch lit the first spark.
Years later, I fell down the G-Shock rabbit hole, and from there, the obsession only grew — diving into cases, movements, materials, and colorways with whatever budget I had.
Like many, I learned this hobby by letting go. Trade to buy. Flip to fund. Try it, then move on. At the time, I didn’t see myself as a “collector” so much as an explorer, driven by curiosity and confined by cash. But over time, the habit of rotating watches became a reflex I couldn’t quite unlearn.
Still, I admired those who could hold on to something. The ones who had watches that marked milestones or carried sentimental weight. I tried. Birth year watches, land-sea-air trios, heirlooms for my kids — but none stuck.
Eventually, I started searching for something more permanent. A watch that would represent the sum of what I’d learned — an “exit watch.” My list was straightforward: something with historical roots, not flashy, built to last, versatile on straps and bracelets, and just under the radar enough to feel like mine.
I found it in a neo-vintage Rolex GMT-Master 16750 “Pepsi.” Matte dial. Plexiglass crystal. Quickset date.
All the charm of a 1675 with a few thoughtful upgrades. It was a transitional reference — a perfect metaphor for my collecting journey.
And for a while, I thought I’d done it. This was the one. I wore it often. Friends would tell me, “That’s your watch.”
I felt like I’d reached some kind of horological nirvana. Finally, I belonged in that rare club of enthusiasts who keep something forever.
Until I didn’t.
Somewhere along the way, that narrative — “this is your forever watch” — became a burden. I adored it, but the weight of expectation started to feel heavier than the joy. So, I let it go.
And you know what? I haven’t looked back.
Sure, I miss it. But not more than the hundred others I’ve enjoyed and moved on from. For me, the thrill of this hobby has never been about finding the watch. It’s been about staying nimble, curious, and connected to a community that gets it.
If you’re still searching for your “exit watch,” I hope you find it. If not, I hope you find peace in the freedom to keep looking.
Because sometimes, the best part of this hobby isn’t the destination — it’s the rotation.
