ROLLING PINS AND HEARTSTRINGS + LINGERING HARMONY
Captured by Mitchell Royel, here’s the unfiltered stream of thought cutting through like headlights in a haze. We’re vibing to Like That by Doja Cat featuring Gucci Mane, and I can’t help but think about life like a late-night bowling session. You know, you line up the perfect shot, roll it straight down the lane, and then—bam—a gutterball. Maybe that’s the punchline we all miss sometimes. Life’s not about always hitting strikes; it’s about laughing at the misses, turning up the music, and throwing the next one even harder. Grit, grace, and just enough chaos to keep it interesting—because that’s who we are.
Sometimes, life gives you lessons in patience when you least expect it—and sometimes, they come wrapped in lengthy text messages. A few days ago, I sat down with my girlfriend and told her something I thought was very clear. “We can talk about anything you want. Anything. But I don’t need advice. I don’t want advice. I’m a man, and I can figure things out myself.” I felt confident I’d made my point. She nodded, and I left it at that. No raised voices, no tension—it was just a boundary I thought any relationship could respect.
Fast-forward to the next morning, and there it was—a long, scrolling, emotionally-charged text. It was about her family, about this plan or that one with her folks, about how our parents should all get together and sort whatever issue she thought we had. I didn’t even know what she was really getting at. After that, I didn’t respond for a solid week. I needed space.
The guys and I were at the bowling alley when I told them about the situation. Between turns, over the sound of pins crashing and casual laughter, I explained it all while we ate pizza and cracked jokes. They laughed, told me every guy has been there, and then shifted the focus back to the game. I thought it was just another night out—until she showed up.
Right there in the bowling alley, like nothing had happened. She walked in calm and confident, her usual smile lighting up the room, and, honestly, she looked so adorable just standing there in all the chaos of neon lights and noise. It was like our last conversation, and my silence afterward, hadn’t mattered at all. “Hey,” she said like this was just any other Friday night. And the thing about her is—she has this way of disarming you without even trying. By the time I’d bowled the next frame, she had me agreeing to go out of town with her family for the weekend.
At first, I was frustrated. I mean, hadn’t she heard me? But as I sat through that family weekend—seeing her laugh with her parents, watching them all care for each other—I started to get it. She wasn’t ignoring me; she was inviting me. She wanted me to engage, to be part of something bigger than myself. It hit me that being a man isn’t just about independence. It’s about choosing to connect, even when it’s inconvenient. Proverbs 11:14 says, “Where there is no guidance, a people falls, but in an abundance of counselors there is safety.” Maybe advice, when given out of care, has its place after all.
By the end of the weekend, I saw things differently. Relationships aren’t about fences—they’re about bridges. And yeah, maybe I’ll listen to her advice next time. Or at least, I’ll try not to ignore the heart behind it.
-Deck
Epilogue: Sometimes, it takes stepping back to see the bigger picture, to recognize that not every gesture is meant to challenge us. Girlfriends—true, loving ones—come with good intent, even if it doesn’t always feel that way in the moment. Their advice may arrive uninvited, their words sometimes faster than the space we give ourselves to process, but it’s their way of showing care, of helping in the only way they know how. It’s easy to misunderstand, to feel slighted or to hold a grudge when you think your independence is being questioned. But what I’ve learned is this—grudges weigh more than they’re worth. At its core, love is about understanding and letting go, even when pride tempts you to hold on to your own narrative. There’s something powerful about realizing that their actions come from a place of love, not control. The real strength lies in knowing when to soften, to forgive, and to stop viewing every heartfelt suggestion as a personal storm rather than a sunny day trying to break through.