A case of path dependence: shaped by many steps, though the first is hard to name. From a North American ski town to Asian megacities, from Renaissance streets to sun-soaked shorelines, somewhere across four continents I ascended to the rare dual status of professional bullshitter and property investor. Two Master’s degrees later, I’ve accepted that being chronically overgoalic has only intensified my craving for novelty. Coupled with an appetite for challenging my own discomfort with the unknown, it keeps leading me to new destinations and new levels of perversion. Confirmation, really, of how much I love this. If you’ve ever cried in public over a song, spiralled over a podcast, organised your books by vibe, and believe that both words and actions can quietly rearrange your insides, we probably speak the same dialect. Being wired for attachment, let’s deep-dive into the biological bases of behaviour (guess my favourite neuropeptide), swap Excel battle stories whilst debating the marginal utility of staying in bed just a little longer, and flirt shamelessly – ideally over dessert. But don’t be fooled: I don’t like just any sugar high. Glucose hijacks our limbic system and lights up our amygdala with cheap dopamine – like fireworks from too close up: all flash, too loud, and leaving you scorched. I like my desserts intentional, layered, honest, and just restrained enough to leave me wanting more. Because when the spark is real, it’s worth chasing.