160. 170… ? 183, maybe. Stopped countin’ one night in Feb. Between an Oxy’ OD and a clear sky. I gave ‘em nicknames. Codes. Cities. Perfumes. « Chéries », princesses, black cats, shooting stars too. Patched their fears. Paid debts sometimes. Waited they’d grow, shut up, love me. Got a lot. A breeze. A like. Silence. Not one saw it. I wasn’t here for games. My engagement wasn’t gold, it was flesh - true. Not a ring. A way out. A shot to say no to the void, the exes, the grey zones. But I ain’t here to nurse broken minds. I’m here for Women who want real. Like Iceberg Slim, Stringer Bell. A man who cooks, fights, heals, writes. Deep voice, clean hands. You wanna be the one who stays? Prove it. I love yaprak sarması & 🍕. Vallah.