HarlemHottie
Uptown Thoroughbred
So... here's the thing. Discipline doesn't have to be hard, it just has to BE. You could make a point to only watch/ listen to Spanish language media, low effort af, and, in six months, you'll know enough Spanish to follow along at minimum. Dieting doesn't have to be hard, it just has to BE. Switch the shytty food out for healthy food that is well- seasoned, filling, and delicious. Life doesn't have to be as hard as we make it. You have a choice in what you allow into your environment.
To that end, it is unnatural, anti- family, and anti-mental health for men to be sitting on IG all day looking at bytches, or steady at the strip club, or any of this weird sex addict type shyt. It confuses the mind and body in myriad ways, as bad as too much porn. Stop comparing your car to his, your bytch to his, pick right or don't, and sit down somewhere and raise these bad ass kids. Comparison is the thief of joy. (This obviously goes for women too, if not more.)
Lastly, ALL relationships are work. I have to call my mother everyday or she starts calling my neighbors to make sure we still alive in here.
I don't keep too many friends cuz bytches wanna group chat all gd day and I'm unwilling to do that work. Etc. Are the men you know complaining about the work required to maintain other relationships? Or is it just their wives? Are they scared to voice complaints? Do they know the basic tools of handling conflict in a healthy way? Do their wives?
I lol'd bc that's the same exact thing he said before he met me! Still loves his time alone tho, and I 'give' it to him. We be in our respective offices all day, might speak three times.There was a period in our lives when we spent a lot of time at the Borgata in Atlantic City. We don't gamble, though I did enjoy the outlets and stores. We went bc of a particular chef. The Borgata has(/ had?) a lot of Chinese high rollers, so the restaurant was actually on the casino floor, by the roulette tables or something. Anyway, we liked the chef so much because of his intense focus. Watching him cook was like watching somebody perform tai chi, just beautiful, and the quality of the food proved his skill. So good, you could eat it cold. You could tell that he loved and was possibly obsessed by his work, the transmutation of common ingredients into multi- sensory art was his life path.
I say all that to say, that's essentially my man. Black, of course, but just as intensely focused on his path. He literally never chased bytches in his life. That's not even a thing he would spend time on. He fukked when he wanted to and sent they ass home. I wouldn't have believed it myself but, bc that's kinda my type (intense, focused on a larger goal), I'm familiar with the behavior. What it means is, I do sometimes feel like he's cheating on me... with his work. I'm forced to stay on my toes- physically, sexually, even intellectually- just to pull him away. (Incidentally, this is a great basis for a relationship, an organic push-pull, also proof of the maxim that you should stay on your grind and the bytches will present themselves.)
In the post you quoted, I only used "we" for observable facts (that we knew our life paths young and that we're both devoted to the same thing). When I asked those questions (decades ago, lol), he was insulted. Not fake insulted where he's just trynna throw me off the scent but truly insulted like, do I seem like a liar to you? (Cuz I pressed.) I had no circumstantial evidence, no funny behavior or missing time, his phone stayed unlocked, I took him at his word for the time being. If he was lying, it would show itself. (It has not.) Back then, he was still working in the office and, as a young finance breh, attractive, Ivy educated, nice suits, nice watch, I know for a fact he had many offers. White bytches are absolute degenerates. But, unless they had a ticker stuck to their forehead, he literally was not even thinking about them hoes.
On god and my mama, I never even caught him glancing at random ass.
He does watch porn, but I snuck and looked and all of them look like me (brown and slim thick, pleasant surprise, ngl). He's like a monk... a monk who, shockingly, be fukking the shyt out of me, like, it don't even make no sense. I be somewhat offended, like no this nikka did not just do all that and then get right up, quick shower/ espresso, and get on the desk.
I must have been a saint in a past life for I am well and truly blessed. 
Do I think he's happy? That's what he claims, but I don't trust words, so I'll use external confirmation: he's the brooding type generally but the people who know him best, his boys, close fam, have noted over the years how he looks at me, that he smiles and looks happy, 'like I'm his best and favorite thing' (one of his aunts said that, weirdly, at a funeral).
I say all that to say, that's essentially my man. Black, of course, but just as intensely focused on his path. He literally never chased bytches in his life. That's not even a thing he would spend time on. He fukked when he wanted to and sent they ass home. I wouldn't have believed it myself but, bc that's kinda my type (intense, focused on a larger goal), I'm familiar with the behavior. What it means is, I do sometimes feel like he's cheating on me... with his work. I'm forced to stay on my toes- physically, sexually, even intellectually- just to pull him away. (Incidentally, this is a great basis for a relationship, an organic push-pull, also proof of the maxim that you should stay on your grind and the bytches will present themselves.)
In the post you quoted, I only used "we" for observable facts (that we knew our life paths young and that we're both devoted to the same thing). When I asked those questions (decades ago, lol), he was insulted. Not fake insulted where he's just trynna throw me off the scent but truly insulted like, do I seem like a liar to you? (Cuz I pressed.) I had no circumstantial evidence, no funny behavior or missing time, his phone stayed unlocked, I took him at his word for the time being. If he was lying, it would show itself. (It has not.) Back then, he was still working in the office and, as a young finance breh, attractive, Ivy educated, nice suits, nice watch, I know for a fact he had many offers. White bytches are absolute degenerates. But, unless they had a ticker stuck to their forehead, he literally was not even thinking about them hoes.
On god and my mama, I never even caught him glancing at random ass.
He does watch porn, but I snuck and looked and all of them look like me (brown and slim thick, pleasant surprise, ngl). He's like a monk... a monk who, shockingly, be fukking the shyt out of me, like, it don't even make no sense. I be somewhat offended, like no this nikka did not just do all that and then get right up, quick shower/ espresso, and get on the desk. I must have been a saint in a past life for I am well and truly blessed. Do I think he's happy? That's what he claims, but I don't trust words, so I'll use external confirmation: he's the brooding type generally but the people who know him best, his boys, close fam, have noted over the years how he looks at me, that he smiles and looks happy, 'like I'm his best and favorite thing' (one of his aunts said that, weirdly, at a funeral).
