Latest news with #Etsy
Metro
11 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Metro
Cancer season is time to feel and heal — your star sign's tarot horoscope
On June 21 we gain entry to the intuitive, emotional, creative and passionate realm of Cancer, the self-protective crab of the zodiac, the psychic, moody, nurturing carer of the cosmos. It's time to embrace our Cancerian side. This sign is very much the mother of the zodiac (Capricorn is the father), and all Cancer folk are deeply empathetic, protective, loving, and wise. They just 'get' people and are comfortable living in their feelings. They don't turn away from or suppress emotion, they feel everything. This can make them moody, sure, and some folk might see them as dramatic or too emotional… but it is a strength. They know themselves, they understand their true nature, and we can learn from this fearless, deep-sighted gaze. Let the tarot guide you towards an emotion you need to sit with and heal this Cancer season. Something you perhaps don't like to acknowledge. Welcome it. Process it by feeling it fully and noticing what it touches on, is triggered by, and associates with. And then release it. Then, if you're still looking for answers, join me for a full reading over on Etsy. March 21 to April 20 Tarot card for Aries for Cancer season: Seven of Cups Meaning: You have been overthinking and projecting your (fearful) fantasies and (scary) scenarios over the top of an issue you don't want to deal with. You have built it up into such a terrifying prospect that no sane person would tackle it. But it's not real, Aries, it's all made up and projected. So, strip this back. Stick to the facts. Feel the fear, but then do what needs to be done anyway and break the spell. Head here for everything you need to know about being an Aries April 21 to May 21 Tarot card for Taurus for Cancer season: Three of Coins Meaning: You always feel like you're not quite good enough or deserving of any of the admiration or compliments you receive (and you get plenty of them). Sit with this shadow self of inadequacy and trace it back to a childhood or youthful experience/s because this all started someplace early on, and isn't realistic now. You deserve all the praise. Vanquish this false imposter syndrome. Head here for everything you need to know about being a Taurus May 22 to June 21 Tarot card for Gemini for Cancer season: King of Swords Meaning: A fear of the future. There is a slow lava flow of change moving through your life, nothing dramatic or fast, but it's there underpinning everything, giving all of your ideas and plans an unstable foundation. Sit with this feeling, this instability, this sense of the unknown future. It's okay. Even if you could pin everything down, something would still change. So, accept the uncertainty, and live life to the full anyway, one day at a time. Head here for everything you need to know about being a Gemini June 22 to July 23 Tarot card for Cancer for Cancer season: The Hermit Meaning: You are processing feelings of loneliness. They might be physical, or more emotional (disconnection from those closest to you) or spiritual (embarking on your own discoveries), or even intellectual (knowing truths that others won't accept). Standing alone is hard, it provokes feelings of panic sometimes, and you worry you will be left out here… but you won't. You are strong, loved, and needed. Return to the fold but only when you're ready. Maybe there is work to do out here on the outliers and edges, in solitude. Head here for everything you need to know about being a Cancer July 24 to August 23 Tarot card for Leo for Cancer season: King of Coins Meaning: You are confident and bold, but you also have very high standards of what 'good' looks like, and this can create feelings of insecurity as you never quite measure up to these expectations. It's what makes you ahead of the pack, but it's also what makes you feel like you're not fulfilling your potential. Sit with this and be objective, measure your progress vs your own timeline and past, and celebrate the successes. You're a natural star, let yourself shine bright! Head here for everything you need to know about being a Leo August 24 to September 23 Tarot card for Virgo for Cancer season: The High Priestess Meaning: Trusting your own instincts and letting yourself accept truths you perhaps don't want to know. There's been a disconnect between your heart and mind, between your intuition and intellect. And maybe you've been squashing down the stuff that is unwelcome or messy or emotive. Virgo, this route leads to illness and stress… so face up to what you feel and just sit quietly with these truths. You can handle it all. You will feel better for taking steps. Head here for everything you need to know about being a Virgo September 24 to October 23 Tarot card for Libra for Cancer season: Justice Meaning: You feel rage about an unfair act or situation you've been embroiled with. Libra, you usually keep everything in check and in harmony but life can be cruel and testing, and you can't keep that pleasing mask on at all times. If you need to rant and rave, then do so. Write terrible letters and then throw them away, Purge the anger and upset. And then put your cool, analytical head back on and think clearly about how you tackle this. You are the OG justice seeker, this is what you were born for! Head here for everything you need to know about being a Libra October 24 to November 22 Tarot card for Scorpio for Cancer season: Ten of Coins Meaning: Acceptance of your long-term dreams, goals, and ambitions. Not sacrificing those plans for something fleeting and short term. You worry about distraction and derailment. So, get your mind straight. Use Cancer season to prioritise and make a new schedule or plan of attack for how you put your goals first and stay on target with your actions. Nothing worthwhile comes easily. Work is always required. And you are strong. You just need a better plan. Stop worrying and start creating it. Head here for everything you need to know about being a Scorpio November 23 to December 21 Tarot card for Sagittarius for Cancer season: Ten of Wands Meaning: You are teetering into burnout but you don't want to admit it. All Sagittarius folk suffer burnouts, because you run on intensity not always consistency. You try and do everything all at once and to maximum levels. It's not sustainable. And you learn the hard way, but then you do it again! So, try and head this one off at the pass. Step back, minimise, streamline, prioritise. Get some headspace, some deep rest, and do the urgent/important only. Head here for everything you need to know about being a Sagittarius December 22 to January 21 Tarot card for Capricorn for Cancer season: The Moon Meaning: You can smell a secret. You can sense a falsehood. And this makes you feel insecure because you feel like something is coming that you can't get a grip on. So, follow this instinct to its source or trigger this week and work from there. Do some homework and research, ask questions, validate the facts, separate the fiction. Find out what you need to know. And then figure out what to do. Head here for everything you need to know about being a Capricorn January 22 to February 19 Tarot card for Aquarius for Cancer season: Page of Coins Meaning: Dissatisfaction with your own level of skill or knowledge. You need to step up. Okay, Aquarius, you've spotted the gap, and you can then plan how to fill it. But remove this feeling of inadequacy or self doubt, please. We all learn as we go. You never stop learning. And it's only when we hit an obstacle that we discover the next level or route of our education, so this is just another one of those moments. It's not a reflection on your performance or standard so far. Get busy finding out what you need to know or do. Head here for everything you need to know about being an Aquarius February 20 to March 20 Tarot card for Pisces for Cancer season: Eight of Wands Meaning: A slight feeling of overwhelm, being pulled in different directions, sensing a rising tide that you're not in control of. Breathe. Relax. Let go. Clear your mind. And float… More Trending In this altered state of consciousness, you will focus on the things that matter most, that need attention, and in doing so it will be obvious what is not necessary or important right now. Let all of that go. Come back to reality and reorganise accordingly. Head here for everything you need to know about being a Pisces Kerry King has been reading, teaching and creating tarot for 30 years. Join her magical, exclusive Tarot Club for forecasts, predictions, lessons and readings straight to your inbox. Enjoy one month free for all Metro readers (no lock-in or commitment) over on Patreon. View More » Your daily horoscope is here every morning, seven days a week (yes, including weekends!). To check your forecast, head to our dedicated horoscopes page. MORE: What's my horoscope for today? June 20, 2025 astrological predictions for your star sign MORE: What's my horoscope for today? June 19, 2025 astrological predictions for your star sign MORE: What's my horoscope for today? June 18, 2025 astrological predictions for your star sign
New York Post
17 hours ago
- Entertainment
- New York Post
AEW star Brody King wears ‘Abolish ICE' shirt at show in Mexico
All Elite Wrestling star Brody King wore an 'Abolish ICE' T-shirt as the company held 'Grand Slam Mexico' in Mexico City on Wednesday night. King was a part of a 14-person tag-team match with Adam Cole, Atlantis, Atlantis Jr., Bandido Daniel Garcia and Templario. The pro wrestling stars defeated the team of Dax Harwood, Hechicero, Josh Alexander, Konosuke Takeshita, Kyle Fletcher, Lance Archer and Volador Jr. Advertisement The event took place in Arena México and featured wrestlers from Consejo Mundial de Lucha Libre (CMLL) — one of the top promotions in Mexico. King's apparent call to abolish U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) came as he showed support for protestors in Los Angeles who were against the raids that took place in the city. The protesters took a violent turn at several points during the week, with law enforcement officers being injured, autonomous vehicles being set on fire and stores being looted. He shared a post from Mexican makeup artist Jose Corella, which started 'Let me be clear.' Advertisement 'What's happening in Los Angeles right now is not only morally reprehensible — it's legally indefensible. This is a sanctuary city, a designation that was democratically voted on and enacted into law by the residents of this city — not by political opportunists grandstanding from a golf course in Florida,' the message read. 'Let me be clear: being undocumented in the United States is not a criminal offense. It is a civil violation. That means it holds the same legal weight as running a stop sign on a bicycle, setting off a firework after a drink, or selling unlicensed fan merch on Etsy. It is subject to civil penalties — typically a fine — not imprisonment, not detention, and certainly not extrajudicial abduction. Brody King wears an 'Abolish ICE' shirt during his entrance at AEW's 'Grand Slam: Mexico' event on June 18, 2025. AEW Advertisement Brody King Icon Sportswire via Getty Images 'Dragging someone off the street at gunpoint, without a warrant or due process, and forcing them into an unmarked vehicle operated by armed, plainclothed agents is not law enforcement — it is armed kidnapping. And armed kidnapping is a felony — a real one. 'So, if you're going to obsess over who is illegal, start by looking at the heavily armed individuals violating constitutional protections under the guise of enforcing the law. Because what they're doing is criminal, not the people they're targeting.' Advertisement Since then, similar messages have been shared by Los Angeles Dodgers infielder Enrique Hernandez and the National Women's Soccer League's Angel City FC. President Donald Trump has since doubled down on his support of ICE in Los Angeles and called on ICE officers to expand their efforts to other cities.
The Age
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
Still waiting for Mr Darcy? He might be closer than you think
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a straight single woman in possession of a dating profile must be in want of a miracle. Ghosting. Breadcrumbing. A risky double- or triple-text followed by the anxious wait for a response. Love languages and attachment-style quizzes. How to embrace the divine feminine, red nail theory, black cat energy. Red flags, green flags, beige flags. The endless swipe, swipe, swipe into the abyss, and ultimately, the ick. Countless rules and tricks and loopholes – did Lizzy Bennet have to put up with all of this? Would she have? Or would she have hitched up her skirts, told Darcy to shove it, and gone off to get a job in a laundry somewhere, instead of suffering the seemingly inescapable indignities of modern dating? As this winter turns bitter and the instinct to burrow dials up to 11, most Friday nights, you can find me swaddled in a fleece blanket burrito on the couch, getting all my romantic fulfilment from fictional men written by women. 'I'm not into Uber sex,' says Agathe, the protagonist of Jane Austen Wrecked My Life: a French film in which an idealistic writer gets swept into her own Austen-style romance in the English countryside. 'I'm not living in the right century.' As if on cue, my phone lights up beside me. It's a picture message from this guy I met on an app more than a decade ago, but never got around to meeting in person. I know without even unlocking my phone that he has sent me a photo of his semi-erect penis. I turn my phone over. I turn the movie up. It can be tempting, in the ashes of yet another failed talking stage or mildly traumatic situationship, to want to retreat into fiction. Romcoms never leave you on 'read'. Romance novels never gave anyone an antibiotic-resistant UTI. Stay lost in a world of costume dramas long enough, and you begin to wonder if dating wasn't easier two centuries ago. Back then, all you had to do to be some hunky aristocrat's manic pixie dream girl was to be refreshingly outspoken, broke, and crap at the pianoforte. The whole criteria for being someone's Prince Charming was to simply not have a secret fiancee. The thought of purchasing a love spell from an Etsy witch would send half these characters into a coma. But some nagging familiarity dogs me as I enter my fourth hour of Regency-era romance, and it's not because I've seen these films before. It's because I've lived them. When I was 18, I met some version of Captain Wentworth, the main love interest in Persuasion. My Wentworth was as gorgeous and impulsive as the original, with a Brummie accent that made him read dangerous and sexy, and tattoos from his ankles to his earlobes to guarantee that my mother would never approve. Dating in Melbourne in 2025 is brutal, but it wasn't much better two centuries ago. When we couldn't make our relationship work, young love and gap years as fleeting as they are, I put an ocean between us and yearned from afar for a decade. Life may have moved on for us both, but a part of me is still waiting for my Wentworth's return; braced, I think, for a long, long email from him that never comes. And throughout the second half of my 20s, I found myself tangled up in an emotional affair with a man who belonged to someone else. Though it hadn't started nefariously – it was a friends-to-lovers trope if I ever saw one – it dragged on too long, and now, each time I revisit Sense and Sensibility, Mr Ferrars' stuttering charm recalls late-night conversations I'd sooner forget. I wish I could sit down for brunch and mimosas with Ms Steele and have both of us deflate with the relief that neither of us ended up with the wrong guy. Say nothing of the countless Mr Wickhams in my rearview mirror: roguish, dashing, manipulative, the perfect person to project all my limerence onto. Don't even mention all the grinning, smooth-brained Mr Bingleys I've swiped through: the golden retriever boyfriend personified, most content when chasing a ball or his family's approval. The flighty and deceitful Mr Willoughbys with their hidden agendas, the charming and scheming Mr Elliots – and all the many, many, many earnest and embarrassing Mr Collinses who fancy themselves a Darcy. I've tried it on with them all, learning nothing except that when it's not right, it's always wrong. Hey Siri, play Manchild by Sabrina Carpenter. Loading This year is Jane Austen's 250th birthday, and somehow, she is as relevant as she has ever been. Each modern adaptation proves it: Bridget Jones' Diary and all her sequels, Clueless, and – because I have no taste (see my romantic history above) – even Netflix's Persuasion are delicious little treats on which I can't keep from bingeing. Like Taylor Swift songs and horoscopes, it's so easy to take Austen's work and lay it like a filter over your own life, tracing the similarities and disregarding the differences, until it feels as though it was written just for you. Because dating in Melbourne in 2025 is brutal, but it wasn't much better two centuries ago. At least women's ability to stay out of poverty is no longer tied to how well they cater to the male gaze. At least we can vote. Now, eloping with a hot scoundrel won't ruin your life; it's just fodder for your writing career. (Just kidding.) (Kind of.) But I have a confession to make: deep down, the misguided romantic in me still wants something phenomenally unrealistic. Despite a decade of disappointment and mortifying stories, despite living my life according to the Bechdel Test, despite endless anecdata about unsatisfying (if not downright dangerous) heterosexual relationships, sometimes I eschew all my hyper-independence and can admit – to you and only you – that I would really like a romantic hero to stride across a foggy moor and rescue me from myself. I want Paul Rudd to call me gorgeous and annoying, then kiss me on a staircase, like he did to Alicia Silverstone in Clueless. Sometimes, when my dopamine drops and nobody is looking, I even get lonely enough to fall back into the embrace of that unholy trio: Tinder, Bumble and Hinge. All the archetypes are there, too. Fred Wentworth, 31 Six foot with a six-pack on six figures, since apparently that matters. George Wickham, 26 Looking for my Tinderella. NO GOLDDIGGERS (I do not have any gold to dig). Eddie Ferrars, 24 Ethically non-monogamist entrepreneur. Me and my missus are looking for a third. Colonel Brandon is there too. In Sense and Sensibility, he's an older gentleman who falls in love with giddy, flighty Marianne, and waits patiently for her to see through Mr Willoughby's charade. These days, he's the leathery fifty-something who exclusively dates 20-year-olds because they're 'less complicated' and 'more sexually adventurous' than women his own age. Robert Ferrars, from the same novel, was always second best to his brother. Now, his profile pictures are exclusively group shots, leaving you to wonder – hope – if he's the good-looking one in the crowd. William Elliot, sexy layabout and heir to the Elliot estate in Persuasion, would have half a dozen catfish profiles on sugar baby websites, seeking a wealthy Mrs Robinson figure to fund his comfortable lifestyle. Women aren't immune to this, by the way. Every delusional, self-important woman – including me – believes herself to be a sensible and headstrong Lizzy Bennet but is actually a giddy Lydia, or a socially inept Miss Bates who mistakes herself for an it-girl like Emma Woodhouse. We all know a Charlotte Lucas or two or 10, who, despite deserving the world, wound up deep in the suburbs, cleaning up after Mr Collins. Like Anne Elliot before us, we've all wondered if our first love might show up on our wedding day to speak now or forever hold his peace. You either die an Emma or you live long enough to see yourself become a Mrs Bennet. I'm sure that if I'd ever made it through Mansfield Park or Northanger Abbey, I'd spot parallels between Fanny Price and Catherine Morland and all the women I know, too. Times may change, but people rarely do. Funny how the red-pilled hivemind fantasise about returning to traditional values. You can't get much more traditional than the 18th century, and all those women ever did was marry for money and status. If I match with Kevin, 33, do I get an estate in Toorak and 4000 a year, too? But no matter how many of these characters I meet in real life, no matter how many times I've found myself living out the plot of Austen's novels, it never ends the way I've been taught to expect it to. That's the thing about books and films: they make you forget that the story doesn't end after the acknowledgments. Surely Lizzy and Darcy would be at one another's throats within a week. Emma and Knightley's lust would fade and they would fall right back into their bickering sibling dynamic soon enough, depressing them and creeping everyone else out. Wentworth, red-pilled and resentful, would throw his hard-earned success and Anne's passive classism back in her face each time she asked him to unload the dishwasher. There are happy endings, and then there are happily ever afters. So why do I still believe? My relationships with all of Austen's archetypes may have eventually broken down, but not because those guys were awful (although most of them were), or because I was the whole problem (although often I was). It wasn't because they were frogs playing princes, or because I'm a sidekick convinced she's a protagonist. I'm not sensible, patient Anne Elliot. I'm not an effervescent Emma Woodhouse, or rational and cautious Elinor Dashwood. There's nothing I wouldn't give to be Cher Horowitz, but then, I'm not as endearingly messy as Bridget Jones, either – but someone is. My Wickham is someone else's Wentworth. For every Mr Elton seeking his Miss Hawkins, there's a serious and steady Knightley waiting to be scandalised and delighted by his Emma. Isn't it so nice to believe, however foolishly, that the great big romance of our lives is just a swipe and a few plot twists away? I saw a psychic last week and she confirmed that I still have a few big love stories ahead of me. She also told me that I'm about to come into great wealth and that my late dog is running around the afterlife in a bow tie, so I'm wont to trust every word out of her mouth. Argumentative and judgmental as I am – in an endearing way, I swear – I'd like to believe that the universe has laid a path for me that leads to Mr Darcy. I've been waiting 30 years. Someone tall and awkward, moody and quippy, difficult to impress but unendingly loyal, socially confused, terrible at parties – wait, am I describing my dream man, or myself? While I wait for him to show up, if he ever does, there are endless adaptations and modern retellings to occupy my Friday nights. A little delusion keeps hope alive. Here's the real silver lining. Although my life doesn't much resemble those of Austen's protagonists – no bonnets, no trips to Bath for the sea cure – I do have something better; something her heroines dreamed of. Despite disappointments and unsolicited dick pics, my story belongs to me. I have my own money, my own home, a full and wonderful life that doesn't hinge on marriage or inherited wealth. I'm not a piece of fruit left rotting in the sun just because I haven't made my way to Pemberley yet. Whether I meet 'the one' tomorrow or spend my whole life fostering dogs and watching period pieces, I'll be fine, and so will you. I can be – I have always been – my very own Mr Darcy.
Sydney Morning Herald
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
Still waiting for Mr Darcy? He might be closer than you think
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a straight single woman in possession of a dating profile must be in want of a miracle. Ghosting. Breadcrumbing. A risky double- or triple-text followed by the anxious wait for a response. Love languages and attachment-style quizzes. How to embrace the divine feminine, red nail theory, black cat energy. Red flags, green flags, beige flags. The endless swipe, swipe, swipe into the abyss, and ultimately, the ick. Countless rules and tricks and loopholes – did Lizzy Bennet have to put up with all of this? Would she have? Or would she have hitched up her skirts, told Darcy to shove it, and gone off to get a job in a laundry somewhere, instead of suffering the seemingly inescapable indignities of modern dating? As this winter turns bitter and the instinct to burrow dials up to 11, most Friday nights, you can find me swaddled in a fleece blanket burrito on the couch, getting all my romantic fulfilment from fictional men written by women. 'I'm not into Uber sex,' says Agathe, the protagonist of Jane Austen Wrecked My Life: a French film in which an idealistic writer gets swept into her own Austen-style romance in the English countryside. 'I'm not living in the right century.' As if on cue, my phone lights up beside me. It's a picture message from this guy I met on an app more than a decade ago, but never got around to meeting in person. I know without even unlocking my phone that he has sent me a photo of his semi-erect penis. I turn my phone over. I turn the movie up. It can be tempting, in the ashes of yet another failed talking stage or mildly traumatic situationship, to want to retreat into fiction. Romcoms never leave you on 'read'. Romance novels never gave anyone an antibiotic-resistant UTI. Stay lost in a world of costume dramas long enough, and you begin to wonder if dating wasn't easier two centuries ago. Back then, all you had to do to be some hunky aristocrat's manic pixie dream girl was to be refreshingly outspoken, broke, and crap at the pianoforte. The whole criteria for being someone's Prince Charming was to simply not have a secret fiancee. The thought of purchasing a love spell from an Etsy witch would send half these characters into a coma. But some nagging familiarity dogs me as I enter my fourth hour of Regency-era romance, and it's not because I've seen these films before. It's because I've lived them. When I was 18, I met some version of Captain Wentworth, the main love interest in Persuasion. My Wentworth was as gorgeous and impulsive as the original, with a Brummie accent that made him read dangerous and sexy, and tattoos from his ankles to his earlobes to guarantee that my mother would never approve. Dating in Melbourne in 2025 is brutal, but it wasn't much better two centuries ago. When we couldn't make our relationship work, young love and gap years as fleeting as they are, I put an ocean between us and yearned from afar for a decade. Life may have moved on for us both, but a part of me is still waiting for my Wentworth's return; braced, I think, for a long, long email from him that never comes. And throughout the second half of my 20s, I found myself tangled up in an emotional affair with a man who belonged to someone else. Though it hadn't started nefariously – it was a friends-to-lovers trope if I ever saw one – it dragged on too long, and now, each time I revisit Sense and Sensibility, Mr Ferrars' stuttering charm recalls late-night conversations I'd sooner forget. I wish I could sit down for brunch and mimosas with Ms Steele and have both of us deflate with the relief that neither of us ended up with the wrong guy. Say nothing of the countless Mr Wickhams in my rearview mirror: roguish, dashing, manipulative, the perfect person to project all my limerence onto. Don't even mention all the grinning, smooth-brained Mr Bingleys I've swiped through: the golden retriever boyfriend personified, most content when chasing a ball or his family's approval. The flighty and deceitful Mr Willoughbys with their hidden agendas, the charming and scheming Mr Elliots – and all the many, many, many earnest and embarrassing Mr Collinses who fancy themselves a Darcy. I've tried it on with them all, learning nothing except that when it's not right, it's always wrong. Hey Siri, play Manchild by Sabrina Carpenter. Loading This year is Jane Austen's 250th birthday, and somehow, she is as relevant as she has ever been. Each modern adaptation proves it: Bridget Jones' Diary and all her sequels, Clueless, and – because I have no taste (see my romantic history above) – even Netflix's Persuasion are delicious little treats on which I can't keep from bingeing. Like Taylor Swift songs and horoscopes, it's so easy to take Austen's work and lay it like a filter over your own life, tracing the similarities and disregarding the differences, until it feels as though it was written just for you. Because dating in Melbourne in 2025 is brutal, but it wasn't much better two centuries ago. At least women's ability to stay out of poverty is no longer tied to how well they cater to the male gaze. At least we can vote. Now, eloping with a hot scoundrel won't ruin your life; it's just fodder for your writing career. (Just kidding.) (Kind of.) But I have a confession to make: deep down, the misguided romantic in me still wants something phenomenally unrealistic. Despite a decade of disappointment and mortifying stories, despite living my life according to the Bechdel Test, despite endless anecdata about unsatisfying (if not downright dangerous) heterosexual relationships, sometimes I eschew all my hyper-independence and can admit – to you and only you – that I would really like a romantic hero to stride across a foggy moor and rescue me from myself. I want Paul Rudd to call me gorgeous and annoying, then kiss me on a staircase, like he did to Alicia Silverstone in Clueless. Sometimes, when my dopamine drops and nobody is looking, I even get lonely enough to fall back into the embrace of that unholy trio: Tinder, Bumble and Hinge. All the archetypes are there, too. Fred Wentworth, 31 Six foot with a six-pack on six figures, since apparently that matters. George Wickham, 26 Looking for my Tinderella. NO GOLDDIGGERS (I do not have any gold to dig). Eddie Ferrars, 24 Ethically non-monogamist entrepreneur. Me and my missus are looking for a third. Colonel Brandon is there too. In Sense and Sensibility, he's an older gentleman who falls in love with giddy, flighty Marianne, and waits patiently for her to see through Mr Willoughby's charade. These days, he's the leathery fifty-something who exclusively dates 20-year-olds because they're 'less complicated' and 'more sexually adventurous' than women his own age. Robert Ferrars, from the same novel, was always second best to his brother. Now, his profile pictures are exclusively group shots, leaving you to wonder – hope – if he's the good-looking one in the crowd. William Elliot, sexy layabout and heir to the Elliot estate in Persuasion, would have half a dozen catfish profiles on sugar baby websites, seeking a wealthy Mrs Robinson figure to fund his comfortable lifestyle. Women aren't immune to this, by the way. Every delusional, self-important woman – including me – believes herself to be a sensible and headstrong Lizzy Bennet but is actually a giddy Lydia, or a socially inept Miss Bates who mistakes herself for an it-girl like Emma Woodhouse. We all know a Charlotte Lucas or two or 10, who, despite deserving the world, wound up deep in the suburbs, cleaning up after Mr Collins. Like Anne Elliot before us, we've all wondered if our first love might show up on our wedding day to speak now or forever hold his peace. You either die an Emma or you live long enough to see yourself become a Mrs Bennet. I'm sure that if I'd ever made it through Mansfield Park or Northanger Abbey, I'd spot parallels between Fanny Price and Catherine Morland and all the women I know, too. Times may change, but people rarely do. Funny how the red-pilled hivemind fantasise about returning to traditional values. You can't get much more traditional than the 18th century, and all those women ever did was marry for money and status. If I match with Kevin, 33, do I get an estate in Toorak and 4000 a year, too? But no matter how many of these characters I meet in real life, no matter how many times I've found myself living out the plot of Austen's novels, it never ends the way I've been taught to expect it to. That's the thing about books and films: they make you forget that the story doesn't end after the acknowledgments. Surely Lizzy and Darcy would be at one another's throats within a week. Emma and Knightley's lust would fade and they would fall right back into their bickering sibling dynamic soon enough, depressing them and creeping everyone else out. Wentworth, red-pilled and resentful, would throw his hard-earned success and Anne's passive classism back in her face each time she asked him to unload the dishwasher. There are happy endings, and then there are happily ever afters. So why do I still believe? My relationships with all of Austen's archetypes may have eventually broken down, but not because those guys were awful (although most of them were), or because I was the whole problem (although often I was). It wasn't because they were frogs playing princes, or because I'm a sidekick convinced she's a protagonist. I'm not sensible, patient Anne Elliot. I'm not an effervescent Emma Woodhouse, or rational and cautious Elinor Dashwood. There's nothing I wouldn't give to be Cher Horowitz, but then, I'm not as endearingly messy as Bridget Jones, either – but someone is. My Wickham is someone else's Wentworth. For every Mr Elton seeking his Miss Hawkins, there's a serious and steady Knightley waiting to be scandalised and delighted by his Emma. Isn't it so nice to believe, however foolishly, that the great big romance of our lives is just a swipe and a few plot twists away? I saw a psychic last week and she confirmed that I still have a few big love stories ahead of me. She also told me that I'm about to come into great wealth and that my late dog is running around the afterlife in a bow tie, so I'm wont to trust every word out of her mouth. Argumentative and judgmental as I am – in an endearing way, I swear – I'd like to believe that the universe has laid a path for me that leads to Mr Darcy. I've been waiting 30 years. Someone tall and awkward, moody and quippy, difficult to impress but unendingly loyal, socially confused, terrible at parties – wait, am I describing my dream man, or myself? While I wait for him to show up, if he ever does, there are endless adaptations and modern retellings to occupy my Friday nights. A little delusion keeps hope alive. Here's the real silver lining. Although my life doesn't much resemble those of Austen's protagonists – no bonnets, no trips to Bath for the sea cure – I do have something better; something her heroines dreamed of. Despite disappointments and unsolicited dick pics, my story belongs to me. I have my own money, my own home, a full and wonderful life that doesn't hinge on marriage or inherited wealth. I'm not a piece of fruit left rotting in the sun just because I haven't made my way to Pemberley yet. Whether I meet 'the one' tomorrow or spend my whole life fostering dogs and watching period pieces, I'll be fine, and so will you. I can be – I have always been – my very own Mr Darcy.
CNBC
2 days ago
- Business
- CNBC
Self-made millionaire who makes $14,000 a month in passive income—my best advice for a starting a successful side hustle
Five years ago, I quit my unfulfilling 9-to-5 job as a higher education administrator and began selling digital products on Etsy. Today, I make an average of $14,000 per month in passive income from seven income streams, including my Etsy store, my blog, real estate investments and stock appreciation. I also recently became a self-made millionaire. It wasn't an easy road, and I definitely had a few missteps along the way. But I learned how to find my niche, run a business and build the life I want doing what I love. Here's my best advice for starting a successful side hustle: One common mistake people make is trying to juggle so many income streams that they start to lose focus. But most people I know who've built a profitable business didn't start out creating their income streams all at the same time. I've met many new side hustlers who start dabbling in stocks, launch a Shopify store and then look at real estate — all at the same time. This usually results in burnout, overwhelm and even debt. Instead, build one solid stream, master it, then move to the next. I started my side hustle in 2010. I made a few bucks here and there, but nothing to write home about. It wasn't until nine months after my launch that my Etsy store started making thousands of dollars a month and eventually allowed me to quit my full-time job. Success doesn't happen in a single viral post or overnight launch. It comes from showing up, adjusting and staying in the game long enough to see your knowledge and efforts compound. When I started learning about business, I tried to DIY everything myself. I would watch free content on YouTube and Instagram, and read books from the library. But after I bought a course about how to sell on Etsy, things started to shift. Looking back and knowing myself more, I think "learning the hard way" took too long. I would try to learn, struggle alone, not see any progress, then lose motivation. I didn't want to keep learning because I wasn't seeing any results. But when I invested a small amount of money into a course and a community of people working on the same thing, I was able to learn, struggle, get help and achieve small wins. My motivation would go up, and I would want to repeat the cycle. I've met many business owners who have a lot of money, but they don't have time. It's important to be strategic in creating the life you want. For example, you can sell goods at local farmers' markets on the weekends. But before setting up that side hustle, it's important to figure out when those markets are open and ask yourself if you're willing to give up weekends to sell your products. Of course, you can hire employees to help you eventually. But that will also cut into your profits, and might not be possible in the beginning. The most successful people I know have a growth mindset. They believe that their abilities can be developed through dedication and hard work. Because of this foundational belief, they aren't afraid to step into unknown territories and learn. On the other hand, people with a fixed mindset don't believe in their ability to grow and learn, so they never try, which leaves them feeling stuck. Building multiple income streams and becoming a millionaire isn't about doing everything perfectly. It's about staying focused, learning as you go, and not giving up. You'll make mistakes (I've made plenty), but with the right mindset, each mistake teaches you something that gets you closer to your goals. Keep going, tweak what's not working, celebrate the wins, even the small ones, and remember: Progress beats perfection every time.
