She wanted this. I didn't.
I felt a low-grade panic sitting across from Liam at The Gilded Spoon, watching him meticulously cut his $28 steak frites. The air conditioning was too cold, and the silence was louder than the generic indie pop. He’d just told me about his family’s summer house in the Hamptons, and my only contribution was that my dad had a timeshare in Orlando. I picked at my lukewarm tomato soup, the silence stretching between us like a rubber band about to snap. I was about to make a desperate comment about the weather when he stopped cutting his steak, looked right at me, and said, 'This is excruciating, isn't it? I'm terrified you think I'm a boring yuppie.' The tension broke instantly. I laughed, a real, ugly snort of a laugh. 'Only a little,' I admitted, finally taking a bite of my soup. It was still lukewarm, but it tasted like relief.
That moment taught me everything about power dynamics. It wasn't about the steak or the Hamptons. It was about vulnerability. Liam held the cards - money, status, whatever - but he gave them up for a second. That's the game. And we need to stop pretending it's not a game.
Everyone tells you love is magic. It's not. It's a market. A brutal, unforgiving market where your value is determined by scarcity and power. Your dating life isn't failing because you're 'too nice' or 'haven't met the one.' It's failing because you don't understand the goddamn rules.
Stop blaming yourself. Start blaming the numbers.
Your city's gender ratio is more important than your haircut. If you're a woman in a tech hub where men outnumber women three to one, you have leverage. If you're a man in a college town full of sororities, you have leverage. This isn't romantic. It's math.
I watched a friend of mine - let's call her Sarah - move from New York to Seattle. In New York, she was drowning. Too many women, not enough decent men. She was constantly told to lower her standards, to be grateful for crumbs. Then she moved. Suddenly, she was the prize. Men who wouldn't have looked at her twice in Manhattan were fighting for her attention in Seattle. Her value didn't change. The market did.
You need to stop thinking about what you deserve and start thinking about what you can command. This is the intimacy market. Resources, scarcity, power. That's it. That's the whole game.
Here's what matters:
Most people are playing checkers while the market plays chess. Wake up.
You are not too nice. You are too weak.
There's a difference. Nice is a choice. Weakness is a default. The people-pleaser rot starts early. You learn to smile when you're furious. You learn to say 'it's fine' when it's not. You learn to shrink yourself to make others comfortable. And then you wonder why you attract partners who treat you like an optional accessory.
The transformation isn't about learning to 'say no.' That's surface-level bullshit. The real work is a complete self-revolution. You need to burn down the version of you that seeks approval and build someone who doesn't need it.
I used to be the guy who'd drive an hour at midnight because a girl texted 'I miss you.' I thought that was romantic. It was pathetic. I was terrified that if I said no, she'd disappear. And she did - because I showed her I had no standards for myself.
The high-value self isn't arrogant. It's just... full. It doesn't need validation because it knows its own worth. It doesn't chase because it knows its value is intrinsic, not performative.
Stop asking: 'How do I make them like me?' Start asking: 'Do they even deserve me?'
Everyone hates kindness because they confuse it with weakness. They see a 'nice' person and think 'easy to manipulate.' The cultural stigma runs deep. Kindness gets mocked in elite circles because it's seen as a liability.
But here's the truth they don't want you to know: Kindness is a weapon.
Real kindness - chosen kindness, not desperate compliance - is a display of strength. It says, 'I have so much power, I can afford to be generous.' It's the billionaire who tips big. It's the confident person who listens. It's the secure partner who doesn't need to play games.
The problem is you've been weaponizing kindness wrong. You use it to beg for scraps. 'If I'm just nice enough, they'll love me.' That's not kindness. That's negotiation from weakness.
Strategic kindness looks different:
I saw this with Liam at dinner. He could have pretended to be the cool, detached guy. Instead, he admitted fear. That's strength masked as vulnerability. That's kindness to yourself first, then to me.
Stop being kind to everyone. Start being kind to people who've earned access to you. Everyone else gets the polite, firm boundary. That's not mean. That's self-respect.
Enough theory. Here's how you actually do this.
Step 1: Audit Your Market Position Look at where you live. Look at your demographics. Be brutally honest. If you're in a bad market, move. If you can't move, change your strategy. Online dating isn't optional - it's necessary if you're in a scarcity environment.
Step 2: Identify Your People-Pleasing Patterns Write down every time you say yes when you mean no. Every time you apologize for having needs. Every time you shrink. Burn the list. Then stop doing those things. Cold turkey.
Step 3: Build Your 'Fuck You' Fund Not a financial fund (though that helps). A psychological fund. It's the voice in your head that says 'fuck you' to anyone who makes you feel small. It's the ability to walk away. It's the knowledge that you'll be fine without them.
Step 4: Practice Strategic Kindness For one week, only be kind to people who have shown you kindness first. Watch how your relationships shift. Watch who stays and who leaves. The ones who leave were never your people.
Step 5: Reclaim Your Voice Say what you mean. Mean what you say. Don't soften your words with 'maybe' and 'just' and 'sorry.' Your words have weight. Act like it.
Your love life isn't a fairytale. It's a battlefield. And you've been fighting with one hand tied behind your back, armed with nothing but hope and desperation.
That stops today.
You have two choices: Keep playing by their rules, losing in markets you don't understand, settling for scraps because you think that's all you deserve. Or. You can step into your power. You can understand the economics of intimacy. You can build a self so strong that scarcity doesn't touch you.
The market is ruthless. Fine. Be ruthless too.
Not cruel. Not unkind. But unapologetically, fiercely protective of your own value. Because here's what I learned from watching Liam cut that expensive steak: The person who is most willing to walk away holds all the power.
And if you're not willing to walk away from anyone who doesn't see your worth? Then you've already lost.
Stop losing. Start living.
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