Young Men of Priory,
Christmas just hit us like a freight train, and most of your wallets are still bleeding out. Now Valentine’s Day is staring you down, barely a month away, and I already catch some of you scheming gift ideas and date nights like desperate rookies. I get it, the rush, the ego boost, the chance to play big.
But as your teacher, I’m giving it to you straight. Most of you need to ghost the dating game hard until after Valentine’s Day, or you are about to get wrecked again.
Dating done right, with respect, chastity, and real intent, is legit and worth pursuing when the timing is right. But this leftover holiday nonsense is a straight trap.
Overpriced steak dinners. Flowers that wilt by morning. Giant teddy bears that cost more than your phone. Chocolates she crushes in five minutes. You are talking hundreds of dollars flushed just to limp through February. Add movie tickets, gas for pointless cruises, and weak surprises to keep her from ghosting you, and your wallet gets bodied worse than a freshman getting pancaked on his first real hit on the football field.
Here is my challenge to you, men of Priory: Lock it down.
No new serious moves. No upgrading whatever half baked situation you have. Wait for spring.
Stack real wins instead. Hit the iron. Dominate your classes. Level up your faith. Chill with the bros. Real connections do not need forced holiday fireworks. They hit harder without the broke tax.
And here is the brutal truth. Keep spending like a clown and your bank account turns into Kenny from South Park. Every trash purchase triggers the squad yelling, “Oh my God, they killed Kenny,” except it is your wallet getting executed. Brutal. Relentless. Holiday after holiday. Christmas already proved it. Do not let Valentine’s Day finish the job.
Here is your escape plan. Pocket that cash.
Dodge the Valentine’s bullet and recover from Christmas. Save four hundred dollars, easy. That is a lowball number because some of you are already planning to drop way more. Dump it into a basic S and P 500 index fund, the boring beast that has averaged around ten percent annual returns historically with dividends reinvested.
Compound interest is God’s quiet flex, money hustling while you sleep.
Invest that four hundred dollars at seventeen. Leave it alone until sixty five.
Boom. This will grow to around $22,000. That is real money. Car money. I do not care money. Now make it a habit. Save and invest whatever you would normally waste on holiday dating every year through high school and college. Even $1,000 a year is child’s play. By retirement, over half a million extra, sitting pretty. Picture Cartman catching wind. Eyes popping. Psycho grin. Hands clapping like a madman. “Respect my authoritah” over your future millions. He would sell his soul for compound interest. We keep it clean. No Cartman level dirt. Just discipline. Two exceptions, because I can keep it real. The first exception is she is a legit ten: personality, faith, let’s you chill with the boys without complaining, watches SEC football, makes South Park references, and she is worth the gamble, fine. The second exception is if this is the first time in your life (I am talking about you, Max Nadaud) that someone of the opposite sex outside of your family has acknowledged your existence. If either of these apply to you then come talk to me. We will scheme a way to limit the financial burden. But for 99% of you, sit tight. Your future self, and your future bank account, will thank you. You are built for more than going broke in February, Priory Ravens. Get intentional. Forge habits that honor God, yourself, and the woman who earns her way in later.
Fly high. Stay savage. Stay strong.
