It’s only quarter to ten in the morning, and already — it feels like a good day.

Not good in some over-the-top, perfect way. Just… enough. Full. Aligned. Like I’ve already lived a little today, and I’m not chasing anything.

I made money playing poker — I’m now at the highest point my bankroll’s ever been. That alone feels like progress. Like something’s working.

Then I walked the dog, and something small but beautiful happened.

There’s a mum and her daughter who also walk their two Labradors. One of them’s still young and full of play, just like my dog. We’ve crossed paths a few times, but it’s usually quiet — a glance, a nod, sometimes nothing.

Today, they walked over. The dogs played, and we talked. Not just filler-chat — something softer, warmer. I mainly spoke to the mum, but the daughter was more open too. In fact, she was the one who stepped forward first.

It reminded me how, with women especially, there can be a kind of wall at first — one that checks for safety. And when that wall gently lowers, it’s like you get to meet the real person. There’s something beautiful in that kind of cautious openness. Earned, not given.

And it’s funny — because with men, that wall often isn’t there. But sometimes, it’s because there’s no access point at all. No sense of their inner world. No vulnerability to connect to. That might be a generalisation, but it often feels true — that men aren’t hiding so much as they’re still hidden from themselves.

That’s why I find it easier to connect emotionally with women. It’s where my need for real connection, for a sense of belonging, often gets met — not in a needy or demanding way, but in the most human of ways.

My appreciation for women runs deep. Even though I’ve had difficult relationships with female figures in the past, I hold women in high regard. The more I’ve gotten in touch with the feminine side of myself, the more whole I feel. The more joyful, the more alive.

And I feel zero shame in that.

People have called me feminine before. Suggested I was “too soft,” or even questioned my sexuality. But none of that bothers me. I’m secure in who I am. And I understand now — their comments were rarely about me. They were projections. Deflections from their own unexamined insecurities.

So yeah — it’s quarter to ten. I’ve made money doing what I love. I’ve shared a quiet moment of connection with strangers. And I’ve felt at peace in myself.

That’s what I call a good day.