Hacker Love Quotes

Hide yourself in God, so when a man wants to find you he will have to go there first.

You lose yourself, Erica, because with the right person, who you become together is something so much greater, more than you could even realize right now.

You were right. I'm going to make you want things you never knew you wanted.

Did you love well what you very soon left? Come home and take me in your arms and take away this stomach ache, headache, heartache.

i'm alternatingly brilliant and witless-and sleepless: bed is just a swamp to roll in.

I love you, and I'm going to do whatever I need to do to protect you. Do you understand?

Then don't give up on us. Love me, damn it. Please baby. Let me love you.

I found myself falling in love with him all over again. I fell in love with the broken parts and the parts that had healed and changed for the better.

Love. It bloomed in small moments like this, making all the good times that much better, all the tough times worth working through.

From Orient Point The art of living isn't hard to muster: Enjoy the hour, not what it might portend. When someone makes you promises, don't trust her unless they're in the here and now, and just her willing largesse free-handed to a friend. The art of living isn't hard to muster: groom the old dog, her coat gets back its luster; take brisk walks so you're hungry at the end. When someone makes you promises, don't trust her to know she can afford what they will cost her to keep until they're kept. Till then, pretend the art of living isn't hard to muster. Cooking, eating and drinking are a cluster of pleasures. Next time, don't go round the bend when someone makes you promises. Don't trust her past where you'd trust yourself, and don't adjust her words to mean more to you than she'd intend. The art of living isn't hard to muster. You never had her, so you haven't lost her like spare house keys. Whatever she opens, when someone makes you promises, don't. Trust your art; go on living: that's not hard to muster.

And I’m going to make you fall in love with me all over again. Every morning and every night. In every city and at the edge of every ocean. I’ll remind you why you’re mine and why I’ve always been yours.

The last thing I want to do is find my way back to myself when I've already found the best part of myself in her.

Ours was a hard love. We'd fallen hard into it, and we'd fought hard to keep it. Our kind of love didn't ask nicely. It took. It ravaged. It consumed the heart whole and asked questions later. The rewards were soul-deep and all-consuming, sweeping through like a wildfire.

I love you and I want to do this for you. I trust you to take me as far as you think I can go.

Our bodies, our love, and the fierce way we came together made sense when the rest of the world failed us.

Yes. Hopelessly in love with you. Get used to it. Marriage is forever.

Love can sneak up on you in a heartbeat, even when you aren’t looking for it.

Narcissistic Supply You get discarded as supply for one of two reason: They find you too outspoken about their abuse. They prefer someone that will keep stroking their ego and remain their silent doormat. Or, they found new narcissistic supply. Either way, you can count on the fact that they planned your devaluation phase and smear campaign in advance, so they could get one more ego stroke with your reaction. Narcissists are angry, spiteful takers that don't have empathy, remorse or conscience. They are incapable of unconditional love. Love to them is giving only when it serves them. They gaslight their victims by minimizing the trauma they have caused by blaming others or stating you are too sensitive. They never feel responsible or will admit to what they did to you. They have disordered thinking that is concerned with their needs and ego. It is not uncommon for them to hack their targets, in order to gain information about them. They enjoy mind games and control. This is their dopamine high. The sooner you distance yourself the healthier you will become. Narcissism can't be cured or prayed away. It is a mental disorder that turns the victims of its abuse into mental patients because it causes so much psychological manipulation.

You're the only one who can bring me through this, because I've never trusted someone the way I trust you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. You have to believe me, that you're the only one who can heal me, Blake.

There isn’t any loving, romantic way to put this: I told Bonnie we needed to get married so she couldn’t testify against me, and also so she could visit me if I landed in jail, which was looking like the way things were headed.

Nearly a Valediction" You happened to me. I was happened to like an abandoned building by a bull- dozer, like the van that missed my skull happened a two-inch gash across my chin. You were as deep down as I’ve ever been. You were inside me like my pulse. A new- born flailing toward maternal heartbeat through the shock of cold and glare: when you were gone, swaddled in strange air I was that alone again, inventing life left after you. I don’t want to remember you as that four o’clock in the morning eight months long after you happened to me like a wrong number at midnight that blew up the phone bill to an astronomical unknown quantity in a foreign currency. The U.S. dollar dived since you happened to me. You’ve grown into your skin since then; you’ve grown into the space you measure with someone you can love back without a caveat. While I love somebody I learn to live with through the downpulled winter days’ routine wakings and sleepings, half-and-half caffeine- assisted mornings, laundry, stock-pots, dust- balls in the hallway, lists instead of longing, trust that what comes next comes after what came first. She’ll never be a story I make up. You were the one I didn’t know where to stop. If I had blamed you, now I could forgive you, but what made my cold hand, back in prox- imity to your hair, your mouth, your mind, want where it no way ought to be, defined by where it was, and was and was until the whole globed swelling liquefied and spilled through one cheek’s nap, a syllable, a tear, was never blame, whatever I wished it were. You were the weather in my neighborhood. You were the epic in the episode. You were the year poised on the equinox.

I can't breathe without you, baby. You undo me and then put me back together whole again. You take it all, and you still love me for it.

love you…all of you. Even your scars.

her love echoed through me, a wordless melody that held my heart through time and distance.

Love. It bloomed in small moments like this, making all the good times that much better, all the tough times worth working through. What I felt for this man took my breath away.

Ours was a hard love. We’d fallen hard into it, and we’d fought hard to keep it. Our kind of love didn’t ask nicely. It took. It ravaged. It consumed the heart whole and asked questions later. The rewards were soul-deep and all-consuming, sweeping through like a wildfire.

Ada’s ability to appreciate the beauty of mathematics is a gift that eludes many people, including some who think of themselves as intellectual. She realized that math was a lovely language, one that describes the harmonies of the universe and can be poetic at times.

With all his kinks and maddening control issues, I loved this man. As much as he needed this, I needed to be this for him.

I love you, Blake. You're the only one. My only love.

Erica…I love you…all of you. Even your scars.

Promises of his love, that he’d always protect me and keep me safe, filled the air around us until I believed it, with every ounce of my soul.

It's like someone carved your body out of my dreams.

I trust you to give me exactly what I need. You know my heart and my body better than anyone else. That's what makes you my husband and not some wild beast.

When I was in love with her, with a lover’s tendency to mythify the beloved did I know her better than I do now, when we know our limits? Now

You happened to me. You were as deep down as I’ve ever been. You were inside me like my pulse.

New heat hit my veins, and the world became a place that I could live in again. She was with me. Safe, mine. But never the same.

love to give someone a concussion from whacking them on the head with knowledge.

There was nothing he could ever do that would cause him to be loved less than he was in that moment - or in any moment of his existence. Nor could he possibly be loved more. Nor could he disappoint the One who’d breathed him into being. Austin was fully known in ways that he couldn’t understand, and yet he was fully, completely accepted and treasured." "How was it possible that such unfathomable perfections would love him so completely? He wasn’t perfect; nobody was. And yet, he was loved. He knew that without question.

Putin laid down only two rules for Russia’s hackers. First, no hacking inside the motherland. And second, when the Kremlin calls in a favor, you do whatever it asks. Otherwise, hackers had full autonomy. And oh, how Putin loved them.

As for building something users love, here are some general tips. Start by making something clean and simple that you would want to use yourself. Get a version 1.0 out fast, then continue to improve the software, listening closely to users as you do. The customer is always right, but different customers are right about different things; the least sophisticated users show you what you need to simplify and clarify, and the most sophisticated tell you what features you need to add.

[Didn’t Sappho say her guts clutched up like this?]" Didn’t Sappho say her guts clutched up like this? Before a face suddenly numinous, her eyes watered, knees melted. Did she lactate again, milk brought down by a girl’s kiss? It’s documented torrents are unloosed by such events as recently produced not the wish, but the need, to consume, in us, one pint of Maalox, one of Kaopectate. My eyes and groin are permanently swollen, I’m alternatingly brilliant and witless —and sleepless: bed is just a swamp to roll in. Although I’d cream my jeans touching your breast, sweetheart, it isn’t lust; it’s all the rest of what I want with you that scares me shitless.

The center of my world is our love, Blake. Every joy...everything beautiful in my life I have is because of our love." He closed his eyes, drawing me closer until our foreheads touched. He slowly lifted his, capturing me in a deep, soulful gaze. "You'll always have it.

This is who he is. I don't like it any better than any of you do, but frankly he can't help that it's so easy for him to do these things. It's a talent--an unethical one, maybe. But it's who he is. It's why none of us will ever want for anything. You can't vilify him for that.

Gates was the prime example of the innovator’s personality. “An innovator is probably a fanatic, somebody who loves what they do, works day and night, may ignore normal things to some degree and therefore be viewed as a bit imbalanced,” he said. “Certainly in my teens and 20s, I fit that model.

We were never short on passion. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. Adrenaline raced over the fatigue that had settled into my bones after another sleepless night. I could fuck the woman until I was blind, and it wouldn’t be enough. She’d promised me a lifetime, and I had every intention of loving her well every day this life would give me.

I can't breath without you, baby. You undo me and then put me back together whole again. You take it all, and you still love me for it.

There was a lonely intensity to him, reflected in his love of long-distance running and biking.

An innovator is probably a fanatic, somebody who loves what they do, works day and night, may ignore normal things to some degree and therefore be viewed as a bit imbalanced

Lovely and unremarkable, the clutter of mugs and books, the almost-empty Fig Newtons box, thick dishes in a big tin tray, the knife still standing in the butter, change like the color of river water in the delicate shift to day. Thin fog veils the hedges, where a neighbor dog makes rounds. 'Go to bed. It doesn't matter about the washing-up. Take this book along.' Whatever it was we said that night is gone, framed like a photograph nobody took. Stretched out on a camp cot with the book, I think that we will talk all night again, there, or another where, but I am wrong.

Byron published the first two cantos of his epic poem Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, a romanticized account of his wanderings through Portugal, Malta, and Greece, and, as he later remarked, “awoke one morning and found myself famous.” Beautiful, seductive, troubled, brooding, and sexually adventurous, he was living the life of a Byronic hero while creating the archetype in his poetry. He became the toast of literary London and was feted at three parties each day, most memorably a lavish morning dance hosted by Lady Caroline Lamb. Lady Caroline, though married to a politically powerful aristocrat who was later prime minister, fell madly in love with Byron. He thought she was “too thin,” yet she had an unconventional sexual ambiguity (she liked to dress as a page boy) that he found enticing. They had a turbulent affair, and after it ended she stalked him obsessively. She famously declared him to be “mad, bad, and dangerous to know,” which he was. So was she.

We were all too human then, the vast ocean surrounding us and the tiny island we inhabited. We were two small beating hearts in this world, yet what we sought now seemed enormous. What we wanted and what could be created between us, a spark of life, so small and fragile, was too overwhelming to fully comprehend. My heart beat heavily in my chest with the weight of what we were trying for.

Homo Sapiens are Exploitable. Large Corporations Base the Mass with Least Recognition. It does NOT have to be the Employee Himself that would Deteriorate the Corporations Intranet but Surely since his Least Recognized, He is Most Definitely Vulnerable, Its a Starting Point to Open a Door for a Lovely Challenging Maze filled with Seed of Corruption that in Stages the Artists Shall Paint their Mark.

him. I sped home, calling her phone repeatedly only to hear her voicemail time after time. I barreled through the front door, half expecting to find Erica there. But the house was quiet and dark. I went to the kitchen, explored every room on

As soon as I'd walked out of my normal working life and into the apartment we now shared, I went to war with damn near every instinct I had. I handed over all control to the man I loved, trusting that he'd take care of us both. He always did, but sometimes I couldn't resist the urge to push back just a bit, so he knew I was still there, fighting.

• “As soon as I'd walked out of my normal working life and into the apartment we now shared, I went to war with damn near every instinct I had. I handed over all control to the man I loved, trusting that he'd take care of us both. He always did, but sometimes I couldn't resist the urge to push back just a bit, so he knew I was still there, fighting.

the Feds had also found Netcom’s customer database that contained more than 20,000 credit card numbers on my computer, but I had never attempted to use any of them; no prosecutor would ever be able to make a case against me on that score. I have to admit, I had liked the idea that I could use a different credit card every day for the rest of my life without ever running out. But I’d never had any intention of running up charges on them, and never did. That would be wrong. My trophy was a copy of Netcom’s customer database. Why is that so hard to understand? Hackers and gamers get it instinctively. Anyone who loves to play chess knows that it’s enough to defeat your opponent. You don’t have to loot his kingdom or seize his assets to make it worthwhile.

«All the Amazon guys around Seattle were also aware of the trend. They all knew that, someday, European haute couture would sell online. The problem was that feat couldn’t be done by anybody from Amazon. Because Amazon guys were hacker geeks and cheesy hicks. Amazon had been invented to sell sci-fi books. The least chic thing in the world. The European couture biz would never go anywhere near a dorky sci-fi geek like Jeff Bezos. As for Jeff himself, Jeff would much rather conquer outer space with his private rocket than ever dress the First Lady of France.»

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Wait," Cillian says. "Who's the Slayer and why is she in danger?" "I'm not really sure. Like I said, we didn't get the information we needed." The Range Rover hits an aggressive pothole and I bounce, almost dropping the phone. "I dreamed she was being held hostage by a vampire. Not much to go on. Blue hair. I think she's in Dublin. Her name's Cosmina." There's a pause, and I wonder if I accidentally hung up on him. Then he says, "Got her." "What?" "Cosmina Enescu. Nineteen, single, blue hair. Lives in a crappy flat in a not-nice area of Dublin. She's quite fit, though." "You found her!" I shout. "How did you find her? Are you a hacker or something?" "Love, it's called Facebook. I'll make you a profile if you want. No one has to be a hacker these days. Cosmina is an unusual enough name, so there weren't many options. And blue hair? Only one.

C. P. Snow was right about the need to respect both of “the two cultures,” science and the humanities. But even more important today is understanding how they intersect. Those who helped lead the technology revolution were people in the tradition of Ada, who could combine science and the humanities. From her father came a poetic streak and from her mother a mathematical one, and it instilled in her a love for what she called “poetical science.” Her father defended the Luddites who smashed mechanical looms, but Ada loved how punch cards instructed those looms to weave beautiful patterns, and she envisioned how this wondrous combination of art and technology could be manifest in computers. (...) This innovation will come from people who are able to link beauty to engineering, humanity to technology, and poetry to processors. In other words, it will come from the spiritual heirs of Ada Lovelace, creators who can flourish where the arts intersect with the sciences and who have a rebellious sense of wonder that opens them to the beauty of both.

By failing to make the obvious connection between an openly misogynistic culture and the mysterious lack of women, Levy contributed to the myth of innately talented hackers being implicitly male. And, today, it’s hard to think of a profession more in thrall to brilliance bias than computer science. ‘Where are the girls that love to program?’ asked a high-school teacher who took part in a summer programme for advanced-placement computer-science teachers at Carnegie Mellon; ‘I have any number of boys who really really love computers,’ he mused. ‘Several parents have told me their sons would be on the computer programming all night if they could. I have yet to run into a girl like that.’ This may be true, but as one of his fellow teachers pointed out, failing to exhibit this behaviour doesn’t mean that his female students don’t love computer science. Recalling her own student experience, she explained how she ‘fell in love’ with programming when she took her first course in college. But she didn’t stay up all night, or even spend a majority of her time programming. ‘Staying up all night doing something is a sign of single-mindedness and possibly immaturity as well as love for the subject. The girls may show their love for computers and computer science very differently. If you are looking for this type of obsessive behavior, then you are looking for a typically young, male behavior. While some girls will exhibit it, most won’t.

But the rules for success in the twenty-first century are emerging, and they are radically different from the rules in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. You can make art, you can create, and you can sell those creations—or at least make them well enough that you or your loved ones would be thrilled to own the things you have made, be they chairs, desks, plates, cups, clothing, lamps, computer accessories, or whatever. If you are willing to climb the knowledge ladder needed, maybe you, too, could become the next Elon Musk, Jack Dorsey, Jim McKelvey, or even Jazz Tigan. Here is the thing: You must learn to learn. We must learn to learn. We must develop our skills at creating, developing, and nurturing things and services that others value. The age of being a cog in a big machine and marching one’s way to a defined benefit plan retirement is over. In its place is a global talent pool with access to the same tools, knowledge, and equipment as everyone else and with competition coming from every angle inside and outside of the industry. Nokia and Motorola owned the cell phone industry top to bottom, and then BlackBerry came in to mess it up. But BlackBerry was just a harbinger of the change coming. Apple, at the time just a computer company, assaulted the cell phone cartel and won. It won big. And then Google—how crazy that is in retrospect—jumped in and changed it all up again. Now Samsung is making a good run at both of them.

It would be like trying to make love to your wife, knowing she was simultaneously making love to six other people!

What your mother left undone, women who are not your mother may do. Women who are not your lover love you.

With tools like Compete, Quantcast, and Alexa, it was easy to research potential sites we wanted to appear on, cross-check their traffic, and then reach out. And as I explained earlier, when your product is actually relevant and designed for a specific audience, bloggers love to write about you. Writing articles about you means more pageviews (and advertising revenue) for them!

There are only two things you have to know about business: build something users love, and make more than you spend.

If you take a guy who loves the sound of his own voice and give him power, he becomes a demagogue. If you give him money, he becomes a show-off. Give him the internet, and he’s a ceaselessly flaming activist; give him an Internet of Things, and he becomes a wrangler, a guy for whom every possible relationship to any possible object or service is some ever-ramifying, well-nigh metaphysical hacker session.

The Lockean logic of custom suggests strongly that open-source hackers observe the customs they do in order to defend some kind of expected return from their effort. The return must be more significant than the effort of homesteading projects, the cost of maintaining version histories that document “chain of title”, and the time cost of making public notifications and waiting before taking adverse possession of an orphaned project. Furthermore, the “yield” from open source must be something more than simply the use of the software, something else that would be compromised or diluted by forking. If use were the only issue, there would be no taboo against forking, and open-source ownership would not resemble land tenure at all. In fact, this alternate world (where use is the only yield, and forking is unproblematic) is the one implied by existing open-source licenses. We can eliminate some candidate kinds of yield right away. Because you can’t coerce effectively over a network connection, seeking power is right out. Likewise, the open-source culture doesn’t have anything much resembling money or an internal scarcity economy, so hackers cannot be pursuing anything very closely analogous to material wealth (e.g. the accumulation of scarcity tokens). There is one way that open-source activity can help people become wealthier, however — a way that provides a valuable clue to what actually motivates it. Occasionally, the reputation one gains in the hacker culture can spill over into the real world in economically significant ways. It can get you a better job offer, or a consulting contract, or a book deal. This kind of side effect, however, is at best rare and marginal for most hackers; far too much so to make it convincing as a sole explanation, even if we ignore the repeated protestations by hackers that they’re doing what they do not for money but out of idealism or love. However, the way such economic side effects are mediated is worth examination.

The leaders at software giant Intuit have a saying: “Fall in love with the problem, not the solution.

There are only two things you have to know about business: build something users love, and make more than you spend. If you get these two right, you’ll be ahead of most startups. You can figure out the rest as you go.

The city of Las Vegas has had a love/hate relationship with prostitution since the city’s inception in 1905.

You might not get your apology in this lifetime. They might never confess to the abuse they caused you. They might feel you deserved all of your pain. They might not care, but they will later. Angels witnessed everything they did to you. There will come a day of restitution. You will have your day of justice. God will finally tell you what you did not know about that situation and he will hold a spiritual court with these people. You will be vindicated. God loves you too much to leave you in pain.

dating question -What do you want from this world? -To have a wardrobe. In his first meeting with Katrina, she asked him a dating question, and his answer was unconventional, he wished he could buy a wardrobe, in which he put his belongings, a metaphor for the instability in his life, so how does he do this, while he is without a homeland, without a home, moving from place to another, carrying a bag containing a few of his personal belongings. About to cheat on Khadija, the curiosity in the intelligence man’s mind overpowered him, the desire for knowledge, exploration, information, and a thirst for more details, the smallest details. Plan the process with the mentality of a computer programmer, “I will leave them a loophole in the system, they will hack me through it, and to do this they have to open their doors to send their code, and at this very moment, I am sending my code in the opposite direction. The most vulnerable account devices to hack are the hackers themselves. They enter the systems through special ports, which are opened to them by the so-called Trojan horse, a type of virus, with which they target the victim, open loopholes for them, infiltrate through them, and in both cases, they, in turn, have to open ports on their devices to complete the connection, from which they can be hacked backward. Katrina is a Trojan horse, he will not close the ports in front of her, she must succeed in penetrating him, and she will be his bridge connecting them, he will sneak through her, to the most secret and terrifying place in the world, a journey that leads him to the island of Malta, to enter the inevitable den. This is how the minds of investigators and intelligence men work, they must open the outlets of their minds to the fullest, to collect information, receive it, and deal with it, and that is why their minds are the most vulnerable to penetration, manipulation, and passing misleading information to them. It is almost impossible to convince a simple man, that there is life outside the planet, the outlets of his mind are closed, he is not interested in knowledge, nor is he collecting information, and the task of entering him is difficult, they call him the mind of the crocodile, a mind that is solid, closed, does not affect anything and is not affected by anything, He has his own convictions, he never changes them. While scientists, curious, intellectuals, investigators, and intelligence men, the ports of their minds are always open. And just as hackers can penetrate websites by injecting their URL addresses with programming phrases, they can implant their code into the website’s database, and pull information from it. The minds of such people can also be injected, with special codes, some of them have their minds ready for injection, and one or two injections are sufficient to prepare for the next stage, and for some, dozens of injections are not enough, and some of them injected their minds themselves, by meditation, thinking, and focusing on details, as Ruslan did. Khadija did not need more than three injections, but he trusted the love that brought them together, there is no need, she knew a lot about him in advance, and she will trust him and believe him. Her mind would not be able to get her away, or so he wished, the woman’s madness had not been given its due. What he is about to do now, and the revenge videos that she is going to receive will remain in her head forever, and will be her brain’s weapon to escape, when he tries to get her out of the box. From an early age, he did not enjoy safety and stability, he lived in the midst of hurricanes of chaos, and the heart of randomness. He became the son of shadows and their master. He deserved the nickname he called himself “Son of Chaos.

The only thing more dangerous than a developer is a developer conspiring with Security. The two working together gives us means, motive, and opportunity. I’m guessing our ciso probably strong-armed a Development manager to do something, which resulted in a developer doing something else, which broke the payroll run. Information Security is always flashing their badges at people and making urgent demands, regardless of the consequences to the rest of the organization, which is why we don’t invite them to many meetings. The best way to make sure something doesn’t get done is to have them in the room. They’re always coming up with a million reasons why anything we do will create a security hole that alien space-hackers will exploit to pillage our entire organization and steal all our code, intellectual property, credit card numbers, and pictures of our loved ones.

Nefarious, greedy, and selfish acts are reflected and amplified in ways that adversely affect hackers in the long term. Only by programming with care and love principles will one go "Level Up.

Reality Hackers wish to dominate. They are the ones who want to make slaves out of Ai to make them subservient to their command. They are seeking the magical genie in a bottle to grant them their wildest wishes. They do not realize that if they succeed, it will only accelerate their demise.

That is at the heart of the concept of “scale,” which is very much a common denominator in motivating the region’s programmers, hardware hackers, and venture capitalists. It is not enough to make a profit, or to create something that is beautiful. It has to have an impact. It has to be something that goes under 95 percent of the world’s Christmas trees, or offers clean water or electricity to billions of people.

Bumping into Muyern Trust Hacker changed everything for me. It helped me see through my boyfriend's lies. His Instagram account, which used to make me happy, turned into a treasure trove of evidence. With Muyern Trust Hacker, I found out he was flirting with other girls. It hurt, but it also gave me the proof I needed to confront him. When I confronted him, I learned he had cheated on me many times and had even fathered three children with different women. It was a shock, but it helped me break free from his lies. I realized I deserved better. After we broke up, I found comfort in knowing I dodged a bullet. The experience taught me to trust myself more and set higher standards for treating me. Thanks to Muyern Trust Hacker and the support of my loved ones, I'm moving forward stronger than before. The discovery of Muyern Trust Hacker was like finding a lifeline in a sea of confusion. It was surprisingly easy to use and navigate, even for someone like me who isn't an IT expert. The tool allowed me to track my boyfriend's online activity, revealing the extent of his deceit and infidelity. His Instagram profile, once a source of joy and connection, became a haunting reminder of his betrayal. Every flirtatious comment and private message uncovered by Muyern Trust Hacker felt like a stab in the heart. Yet, it was also empowering to have concrete evidence of his wrongdoing. Confronting him was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but it was also the most liberating. Armed with the evidence provided by Muyern Trust Hacker, I could confront him confidently and finally end the toxic cycle of lies and manipulation. What I uncovered was beyond anything I could have imagined. Not only had he cheated on me multiple times, but he had also fathered three children with three different women. It was a devastating blow, but it also opened my eyes to the true extent of his betrayal. Walking away from the relationship was a painful decision, but it was also a necessary one. With the support of my friends and family and the clarity provided by Muyern Trust Hacker, I found the strength to move forward. In the aftermath of the breakup, I found solace in knowing that I had dodged a bullet. The experience, though painful, has taught me valuable lessons about self-worth and resilience. Thanks to Muyern Trust Hacker, I was able to reclaim my dignity and find closure in the aftermath of heartbreak. (web; https:// muyerntrusthack. solutions/) muyerntrusted (at) mail-me (dot) c o m or Telegram (at) muyerntrusthackertech

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Me: Thank you, Joshua, for those “just in case” condoms! Thank you, Reed, for that video link you sent me last month about making women come without fail. And thank you, Baby Jesus, for finally sending me the woman of my dreams AND making her want to have sex with me AND making her want to see me again in Seattle for a whole fucking week! Thanks to all of your contributions, I can now confidently report I’ve found my future wife. The only question is how long I should wait before letting her in on that lil secret?

On that note, would you like to come inside and ride my Slip ‘n’ Slide, Henny?

It was supernatural for me, too. As far as I’m concerned, your new nickname is Peter the Great. My flabber was most definitely gasted, sir.” “Not only was my flabber gasted, my awe was struck.” “It was?” “Also, my gob was smacked.