It was the first week of January, the kind of time when people speak boldly about fresh beginnings and new chances. The streets were full again, businesses reopening, conversations filled with hope. Yet inside me, nothing felt new. I was thirty-two years old, hardworking, disciplined, and respectful, but every year ended the same way—alone, rejected, and humiliated. Whenever I tried to express interest in a woman, the story never changed. Some laughed politely, others were blunt, but the message was always clear: “You are a good man, but you are poor.”
I remember one rejection that cut deeper than the rest. She didn’t insult me. She didn’t shout. She simply looked at me and said, “I want a future with comfort. Love alone is not enough.” I walked away smiling, but inside I was breaking. I had dreams, yes, but dreams don’t pay rent. They don’t impress parents. They don’t build respect. As the new year began, I asked myself a painful question: How long will I keep living like this?…CONTINUE READING
