Author: Theodore Lee

I need to talk to you about porn. We’ve been through this before, but right now, I don’t want an argument, I just need you to listen and to really hear me.

Porn for me is not just videos, or websites. If you are using photos, images or short form videos of random girls, celebrities or chat apps (or anyone or anything) to get off to, or look at to enable you to have sex with me, or even if you are just scrolling or browsing, it’s all porn to me, because your intentions are the same and the outcome is the same.

This isn’t casual chat, and it’s not up for debate. For me, a healthy relationship—my version of healthy—does not include my p

It sounds harmless enough.

I just wish she would clean up after herself.

I just wish he’d listen better.

I just wish they’d care as much as I do.

These thoughts show up quietly. They don’t come with flashing lights or angry outbursts. They feel reasonable. Fair, even. After all, you’re not yelling. You’re not demanding anything out loud. You’re just… wishing.

You’re standing in the kitchen, arguing about how long it took to get out the door.

Or how your partner said they’d do the dishes and didn’t.

Or the way they looked at their phone when you were talking.

And suddenly, you’re both upset. Tense. Maybe one of you is shutting down and walking away. Maybe the other is still talking, louder now. Maybe you’re both wondering, Why are we even fighting about this?

I want to talk about a phrase that gets thrown around a lot – “putting yourself out there.” It’s something we often hear when it comes to dating, socializing, or pursuing our goals. But what does it really mean?

Putting yourself out there means being vulnerable. It’s about exposing yourself to the possibility of rejection, failure, or disappointment. When you put yourself out there, you’re taking a risk. You’re saying, “Here I am, flaws and all. Take it or leave it.”

I’m 53 and just had my financial wake-up call. Despite making six figures for the last decade, I have less than $200k saved for retirement. Why? Because I spent my 30s and 40s convinced I had “more important things” to do with my money.

I maxed out my house budget because “real estate is the best investment.” I leased new cars every 3 years because “I work hard and deserve nice things.” I took lavish vacations because “you only live once.” Meanwhile, I contributed just enough to my 401k to get the employer match (3%) and thought I was being responsible.

There’s a line a lot of people like to quote from religious texts and cultural traditions: “Honor your father and mother.” And that’s good advice. Really. They raised you, fed you, taught you (hopefully), and shaped parts of who you are.

But here’s the part no one says out loud: you honor your parents by growing up—not by staying under their thumb.