You’ll Never Be This Young Again
Don’t Waste It Being Noble
There are no awards for dying with heaping potential faintly beating in your chest.
No applause for being the guy who almost lived.
No parades for martyrs who sacrificed their youth chasing perfection.
You think you’re being wise. Disciplined. Noble.
But you’re not.
You’re just scared.
Scared of wasting time. So you don’t take risks.
Scared of heartbreak. So you don’t pursue beauty.
Scared of being broke. So you bury your 20s behind a laptop in a dark, dusty apartment that hasn’t felt like home in years.
You tell yourself this is the way. That your sacrifice now will be repaid later.
That if you stay silent long enough, life will eventually tap you on the shoulder and say,
“Hey, you were good. Here’s your reward.”
But that tap never comes.
Because life doesn’t pay back quiet men.
Life doesn’t notice you unless you grab it by the neck and demand it turn your way.
You weren’t put on this Earth to be efficient and clean.
You were put here to be leave a motherfucking mark.
The Lie They Sold You
They told you to be a good man and good things will happen.
Work hard. Stay humble. Your time will come.
They said success is a slow build.
That you should never chase. That you should wait your turn.
But that’s the trap.
That’s the sedative they give to men they don’t want to see rise.
The truth?
The loud get attention.
Not because they’re better. But because they move.
They push. They speak. They act.
They don’t ask for permission. They break the rules and then rewrite them.
I remember two guys I’ve met in a place I cannot legally speak about.
One was a rule-following stickler. Did everything right. Majored in accounting. Interned at Deloitte. Took girls to Nobu and paid on time.
He was careful. Thoughtful. Safe.
The other didn’t even graduate.
He worked valet. Smoked cigarettes like they were part of his aesthetic.
Said out-of-pocket things at every party.
Always showed up late, and somehow always left early with the hottest girl on his arm.
Nobody could explain it. But everyone watched.
Five years later?
The polite one is still waiting for his promotion.
Still waiting for love to find him.
Still playing by the rules of a game that was never designed to crown men like him.
He doesn’t realize that being “a good man” is invisible in a world that only rewards the bold.
He’s still wearing his halo. Thinking he’s the chosen one because he plays it by the book. Went to college. Got a good degree. At a top firm. Awaiting incremental raises every year or three. Thinking that’ll do him in.
Whatever, squeaky.
Just know halos don’t shine in the dark.
What You’ll Actually Regret
It won’t be the money you didn’t make.
It won’t be the investment you skipped.
It won’t be the night you stayed in to finish your sales page.
It’ll be that moment.
That one moment when she leaned in closer.
Her perfume in the air. Her eyes flickering with something electric.
You had her in your car. Her head tucked in the nook of your shoulder.
She was laughing at every stupid thing you said, half just to keep you talking.
And you felt it.
The moment.
But you let it pass.
You were enjoying yourself.
You didn’t want to ruin it.
You told yourself “next time.”
But there was no next time.
She never texted back.
She never gave you that look again.
She had given you the moment.
And you chose not to take it.
That’s what sticks.
The nights where you could have acted. Should have.
But froze.
You won’t remember the project you stayed up late for. You’ll remember the way your stomach dropped when she didn’t reply. When you realized, then and there, you made the wrong move not taking the opportunity when it presented itself.
You’ll remember the way your hands hovered over the screen, waiting for a message that never came.
Left on seen.
You’ll remember how it felt to be haunted by the version of yourself that didn’t take the shot.
You will not regret risk.
You will regret restraint.
The Playboy Edge: Controlled Fire
This isn’t a sermon on chasing skirts or throwing away your life. This is a reminder that edge, when refined, becomes your advantage.
You don’t have to be reckless. But you better be unforgettable.
The modern man has been told to neutralize himself. To delete his bite. Tame his voice. Hide his hunger.
But the men who win?
They have a fire. A precision. A romance to how they move through the world. They don’t talk loud. They don’t beg for attention. They walk in and the room adjusts around them.
Five years from now, I want you to walk into a rooftop lounge with a look in your eye that makes women blush and men back up.
You’re wearing linen and leather. Your scent lingers like a memory. You shake hands like you’ve made men rich before.
Your voice cuts through noise like a knife through velvet.
And when a woman approaches, it’s not because you chased.
It’s because she couldn’t stop imagining you ravishing her.
That’s the edge.
The quiet danger.
The ability to hold the line between composed and chaotic. You’re not a monk.
You’re a romantic with claws. A killer with a conscience. A builder who dances with fire.
You’re not some stoic general on a battlefield 800 years back, motherfucker. Wake up.
The Clock is Real
Time doesn’t tap you on the shoulder.
It sucker punches you one morning when you realize youth is no longer an excuse.
That you’re not “starting out” anymore.
That people expect you to know what you’re doing.
And worse, so do you.
At 22, life is a live wire.
Everything feels like a first kiss.
You’re learning. Testing. Tasting.
You’re allowed to stumble. To chase. To get your heart broken and write about it badly.
But that doesn’t last.
The older you get, the more the world expects polish.
And if you didn’t sharpen your edge when you were young, you’ll wake up at 32 with a stable job, a clean apartment, and no fire left in your chest.
You’ll stack money.
You’ll make “smart” moves.
You’ll become the version of yourself they said would win.
But you’ll feel hollow. You’ll wake up with a long sigh.
“Another day of slugging along in bullshit. Maybe I’ll get finally lucky today.”
But this cannot possibly be your fate. Because you never let yourself burn. This is the chapter of recklessness. Of stolen kisses and impulsive trips. Of texting her at midnight and not caring how it looks. Of living fast, but with purpose.
If you don’t let yourself feel this now, you’ll never learn how to channel it later.
And worse, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering who you would’ve been if you did.
One Last Thing
You don’t need money to live like a playboy.
You don’t need a penthouse or a sports car or a six-figure watch collection.
What you need is a foundation.
A way of walking through life that makes people watch.
A way of speaking that makes her blink slower and lean in.
You need presence. Charisma. Power.
All of which you can build now.
From your phone.
With no filters. No flexing. No rented lifestyle.
I did it.
I’ve shown dozens of guys how to do it.
And they’re now building pipelines of women they used to think were out of their league.
You’re one shift away from all of it.
Get IG Blueprint and I’ll show you how before it closes for good.
How to Be An Interesting Man Pt. 2
One of the highest-rated blogs Raw Manifesto has released is coming out with a part two version. More refined with far more options of things you’d never imagine in helping you find your passions, desires, and asks of the world. Of course, this will be for my paid subscribers.