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If attention is currency, I’m currently printing money. I lean back in the leather chair that’s been strategically placed for maximum jawline and minimum lumbar support. One AirPod in, the other dangling just out of sight. Ring light: flattering. Background: tastefully intellectual. Me: peak smirk.

"Welcome back to Iron Mind Live ," I say into the mic, words gliding out like whiskey over ice. "We’ve got a hundred and eighty-five live with us today. First-timers, drop a one in the chat. Returning legends, drop a fire emoji."

The emojis roll in.

"Let’s dive in. First question—‘What’s the best way to flirt at the gym without being a creep?’ Easy. Don’t. Unless she initiates. Otherwise, your barbell is your best wingman."

A string of laughing emojis in the chat. I smirk. Easy mode.

I power through another handful:

"Who should pay on the first date? Whoever initiated. Or, you know, pay anyway if you’re trying to signal high intent."

"Is it okay to double-text? Only if the second text is 30% funnier than the first. Math matters."

Then it pops up.

@TReformedBro: What if the first date went well, but she ghosted? How do I re-engage?

I read it aloud, voice smooth. "Good question. Let's break it down."

I tap the keyboard to follow up.

Where’d you meet her?

@TReformedBro replies instantly .

Online. She was a mindset coach. We talked about identity and stuff. Pretty deep, lol.

I blink. Just once.

Lean in slowly, heartbeat steady but focus narrowing. That bar. That line. Identity and stuff.

I type again.

What did you do on the first date?

Another fast reply.

Went out to the Bar. I ordered mezcal for both of us. She didn’t love that, haha. Didn’t seem like a dealbreaker tho.

Not a dealbreaker, I think, but definitely a disqualifier.

I stare at the username. The girl was a coach. They met at the Bar. Could be a coincidence.

Could also be that dude I saw sleazing on Emily Parrish.

I smile into the camera. Calm. Easy.

"Let’s talk ghosting," I say smoothly. "Sometimes it’s not about you. Sometimes, it’s entirely about you."

The chat pops off with burn emojis.

"If the conversation was solid, the vibe felt good, and then she disappears—ask yourself one question: Did she get kidnapped, or were you just the only one who thought it was going well?"

I keep eye contact with the camera, like I’m speaking directly to Emily’s date.

"Because if she ghosted, maybe it wasn’t a mystery to solve—it was the message."

I can see him squirming, even if it’s only in my head. You couldn’t pay me enough to coach that dude back into her inbox.

"My advice? Don’t chase ghosts. Elevate instead. "

A few people in the chat type the rocket emojis. I end the stream with a tight smile.

"That’s all for today. Remember: You don’t rise by chasing. You rise by becoming." A pause. A wink. "See you legends next week."

I log off.

Silence.

Then I exhale. Long. Through my nose.

Open another tab.

Search: Emily Parrish Let Me Finish .

It loads with annoying clarity. New episode. New thumbnail. She looks good—annoyingly good. Like someone who actually sleeps and drinks water and doesn’t spend thirty minutes explaining "social calibration" with a slide deck.

Title: "When He Doesn’t Hear You (Because He Thinks He’s Winning)"

I wince.

I press play.

Her voice slides through my speakers—warm, certain. Just enough edge to be interesting. Just enough softness to be dangerous.

“We’ve all had that date. The guy who orders for you. The one who monologues. Who thinks presence is the same thing as dominance. And when you ghost? He tries again, not because he values you—but because his ego doesn’t like the silence.”

Well, it looks like she’s still ghosting that douche.

Good girl.