Wade Sutton

I left to get a beer. I came back to a text from a guy I barely know.

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I left in the third quarter to get two beers. One for me, one for her. By the time I got back to the tunnel my phone was going off. It was a guy from work I've maybe spoken to four times. No message. Just the photo. They had put her on the big screen. She was kissing someone I have never seen in my life. Here's the part nobody wants to hear, and it's the only part that matters. I wasn't blindsided. I'd been gone for about two years and I knew it. Asleep by nine. Hadn't reached for her since spring. I blamed the job, then I blamed my age, and then I stopped blaming anything at all and just let it keep happening. My bloodwork came back at three hundred eighty and my doctor told me that's normal for a man my age. I'm forty-four. There were eight jars of testosterone boosters in my kitchen. Tribulus off a checkout counter. Some root that promised me Viking genetics. Not one of them printed a dose on the front, and I paid for every single one. What I drink now is coffee. Same mug, same six in the morning, nothing added to my day. Tongkat Ali three hundred milligrams standardized, Ashwagandha three hundred, Shilajit two-fifty, zinc, D3, a thousand of lion's mane, a thousand of cordyceps — and a hundred of caffeine with a hundred of L- theanine against it, so the coffee I was already drinking stops driving the cortisol that takes what testosterone is built from. It's called Balls and Brains. I know. I'm a grown man and that's the name I have to say out loud to order it. I say it anyway. Take advantage of 44% off today — $39 a pouch on the 3-month kit — 365-day money-back guarantee: if it doesn't work for you, we'll return 100% of your money. Button's below.