When someone ask me what kind of man do l want?
I am not going to Rich,l am not going to say perfect.
I am going to say l want a man who protect my feelings,not just my body my feelings.
There is a difference between these two things and most men knows how to protect one of them.
I want a man who never makes me question my own worth when l am with him.
I want a manWho does not disappear when things get hard between us.
A man who does not weaponize silence when he is upset about something.
I want someone who Communicates with me,even when conversation is uncomfortable.
I want someone who chooses me not just when it is easy to choose me, not when l am convenient for his week.
I’m Addicted to My Landlord’s Son’s Dick
I moved into the place about a week ago. One afternoon I messaged the landlord that the dishwasher was making a weird noise and not draining properly. He said his son would come check it since he was around the house anyway.
About an hour later there was a knock. I opened the door and it was the landlord’s son. Tall, light brown skin, short hair, clean jaw, wearing a plain black tank top and loose shorts, barefoot. He looked like he had just been lying around. He said his dad sent him to look at the dishwasher.
I let him in. He walked to the kitchen, opened the dishwasher, bent down to check the filter and the hose. While he was crouched there his shorts rode up and I could see the outline of his dick hanging heavy. I stood close, watching. He stood back up, wiped his hands, and said it just needed the filter cleaned and the drain hose pushed back in. Easy fix.
When 34-year-old Daniel lost his job in Chicago, he thought he had enough savings to survive until he found another one.
He was wrong.
Within three months, he had lost his apartment, his car was repossessed, and his bank account had dropped to $17.
His daughter called him one evening.
“Daddy, are we still going to Disneyland for my birthday?”
Daniel stared at his empty refrigerator.
“Of course, princess. Daddy promised.”
After hanging up, he sat on the kitchen floor and cried.
The following morning, he applied for 23 jobs. He received 18 rejection emails.
Two weeks later, he got hired at a warehouse, working 12 hours a day for $16 an hour.
His first paycheck went straight to rent, electricity, and overdue bills.
He bought himself nothing.
When his daughter finally visited, she noticed his old shoes.
“Daddy, why don’t you buy new shoes?”
He smiled.
“These are still good, sweetheart.”
But what she didn’t know was that her father had been wearing the same pair for four years.
Sometimes, the biggest struggle isn’t being poor. It’s pretending you’re okay so the people you love don’t have to worry.
While a former classmate of mine was out of town for three weeks on a work contract, his wealthy neighbor tore down their shared boundary fence and poured a massive concrete driveway extension six feet into my friend's yard.
When my friend got home and confronted him, the guy just smiled, handed him a business card for his real estate attorney, and told him the concrete was already cured and fighting it in court would cost more money than my friend had.
My friend did not yell, did not threaten him, and did not call the lawyer on the card. He just nodded, walked back inside his house, and went to work.
The next morning, he paid four hundred dollars for an official city land survey with GPS markers. The survey proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that a six foot wide strip of the new concrete pad, along with the entire left support wall of the thirty thousand dollar boat garage the neighbor was building on top of it, sat directly on my friend's titled land.
Most people would have taken that survey straight to the neighbor to stop construction. My friend realized that stopping him early would actually save the guy money.
Instead, he pulled the public city building records and confirmed the neighbor had not filed for a single construction permit or setback variance. Then my friend sat back by his kitchen window for two full weeks and watched silently while the neighbor paid contractors to install custom electrical wiring, floodlights, and insulated roll up doors on the structure.
He let the man spend every last dollar finishing the project.
The day after the painters packed up their trucks, my friend made two phone calls. First, he called city code enforcement to report an unpermitted permanent structure built across a property line and utility easement. Second, he hired a commercial concrete cutting crew for Monday morning.
Because everything sitting on his side of the survey line was legally on his land, he did not need the neighbor's permission to remove his portion of the slab.
At 8:00 AM on Monday, the neighbor walked outside in his bathrobe to the deafening roar of a diamond blade concrete saw slicing a razor straight line right down the length of his brand new pad, while a city code inspector stood at the curb writing up a mandatory demolition order and twelve thousand dollars in fines for the unpermitted garage.
The same man who told my friend to call his lawyer two weeks earlier was suddenly standing on the grass begging to buy that six foot strip of dirt for triple its market value just to save his garage.
My friend refused to sell him a single inch. Once the crew hauled away the broken concrete from his side of the line, he had them sink a row of heavy steel bollards six inches inside his boundary so the neighbor cannot even angle his boat trailer out of his own driveway anymore. Never interrupt an arrogant man while he is still spending money on your land.