Okay.

I have one more thing to say.

Because after that whole “Barbados, no groom, extra mango” situation — that table conversation came back and stomped on my last good nerve.

So let’s stop lying to ourselves.

I don’t want a seat at the table.

And I damn sure don’t want to be the table either.

I am not hauling emotional labor, loyalty, and homemade shrimp and grits into a relationship

just to get breadcrumbed by a man with Wi-Fi confidence and folding-chair stability.

No sir!

and I used to answer that question seriously too. “What do you bring to the table?”

Like I was submitting a resume with references to be somebody’s girlfriend

Meanwhile the men asking it barely brought napkins.

And the older I get… the more I realize women have been out here confusing exhaustion with empowerment.

Talkin ’bout “I am the table.”

No hunny…

You’re tired.

A table has four legs…

…and so does a damn dog.

And I refuse to keep carrying entire relationships on my back while somebody else critiques the centerpiece.

So now? If a man asks me what I bring to the table — I’m asking:

“What exactly are YOU bringing besides appetite?”

Because I am NOT interested in becoming infrastructure for emotionally unavailable men with red pill podcast opinions.

Now — before somebody starts a war in my comments — let me be fair.

Some women weaponize “boss energy” the same way some men weaponize masculinity. Loud doesn’t equal healed.

I’m just saying…

I’m not shrinking myself into a metaphor anymore.

Matter of fact?

I have a flight to catch. That Honeymoon for the Honeymoon…

in Tulum.

And something tells me things are about to get very… VERY heated

That’s NOT off the record.

That’s NOT off the record… That’s a warning

Catch Coreen in the next episode.

And if you want the tea before everybody else… subscribe to The Heat Sheet.

We’ll see you in the next one. Stay hot. Stay honest.