a post-valentine’s day edition (6am half drunk)

A few years ago, I dated a guy who had the most sophisticated network I’ve ever seen at the time — founders, CEOs, investors, affluent family offices, famous artists, models. I once asked him, “out of all these cool and beautiful people you know, why would you date me?” He responded, “the entrepreneurial circle is a tight circle, I wouldn’t dare to fuckaround.” He then looked at me in awe, and said “but you’re not in the circle, you’re the wifey type. You are authentic, kind-hearted, and pretty.” What he meant was if he were to date someone from his network and it gets messy, the consequences automatically taxes his whole network ecosystem and his career. But I wasn’t part of his network, the collateral control is in place. I was… a low-risk decent-return asset. I knew he sincerely meant his affection. But damn, I SO wasn’t the wifey type. Every drop of blood in my veins screamed, you’re wrong. I’m not your wifey type, whatever that means. I’m on my way to become one of those people yo

saved by

• Shaarvin Domun