Page 95 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

We build systems designed to predict and anticipate human behavior, yet we’re terrified of exposing our own humanity. We reward innovation and efficiency while sidelining the people who make it possible. And somewhere along the way, I’ve been complicit in that.

I’ve spent years building walls aroundmyself—around my feelings. Walls designed to protect, to defend, to preserve. But those same walls have kept out the voices I needed to hear the most.

Someone recently told me that walls don’t just keep people out—they keep you locked in. And I’ve realized how true that is. Vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s the foundation of trust.

Without it, we’re just machines chasing metrics, disconnected from the very people we’re supposed to serve.

This isn’t an easy thing to admit, and it’s even harder to change. But change starts with honesty.

So here it is: for a platform that’s all about exposing the truth, I haven’t always gotten it right.

I’ve been espousing better community, more inclusion and more transparency in the workplace.

But in my personal life, I’ve done the opposite the last few years.

I’ve prioritized results over relationships, performance over people. I’ve been part of the problem.

But I want to be part of the solution.

Starting now.

I feel in love with a bad man. And he left in the worst way—as bad men do.

But in doing so, I erected all these walls. Fashioned weapons, so that it wouldn’t happen again.

And because of it, I hurt the next man who wanted to love me. A flawed man, yes—as we all are.

But it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter that he wasn’t bad. I used my weapons on him all the same. Andbecause my targets were pointed in the wrong direction, every single one of those weapons backfired. Blew up in my face.

I deserved it.

Because when you find The One, putting a target on his back is a recipe for self-destruction.

I was self-destructing for a long time. And now I wish I could go back.

Tell that man that I would jump into the line of fire, take heavy artillery to the chest, just so that he knows that I'm choosing him. Choosing us. Choosing trust over fear.

Because sometimes the biggest exposé isn't about corporate culture or tech leadership or glass walls that hide nothing.

Sometimes it's about yourself.

This is my last post. Not because I'm giving up the fight for better corporate culture, but because I'm choosing to fight it differently. From within. With honesty. With trust.

If he'll let me.

-MG

My hands shake as I lower my phone. Next to me, Miss Guest Pass is still talking, something about startup dreams and venture capital, but her words fade into white noise.

Through the club's windows, Seattle's snow falls harder, transforming the city into something new. Something possible.

"Alex Drake!" A male voice cuts through my thoughts. "I can't believe my luck!"

I look up to find Roberto Waller striding toward me, allBrooks Brothers suit and manufactured confidence. Mac's ex-husband looks exactly like the type of man who'd trade in twenty years of marriage for a younger model - polished surface, hollow center. He rests his hand possessively on Kathryn's baby bump, and suddenly I see the pattern so clearly: men who build walls instead of bridges, who choose control over connection.

Men like my father. Men like Roberto.

Men I swore I'd never become.

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