I once calculated my "Cost Per Notch"—injecting business discipline into sexual conquests by dividing dating expenses by results. Up to recently, I was spending an extraordinary amount of time and money getting laid. As a teenager, my Mom worked, cooked, cleaned, and asked for help. I'd hear "I hope you appreciate me one day!" and tell friends she was crazy. After I left home, she'd ask favors and I'd groan until she stopped asking. I didn't want to be bothered.

In South America chasing hostel girls I didn't care about, I realized those girls weren't different from ones at home. I was spending massive time weekly on cheap thrills while giving my mother—who invested two decades raising me—less than 10 percent of that effort. That's not how things work in the Middle East. She'd sacrificed everything; I was treating her like a typical American treats their parents. The realization hit hard: I was wasting my life on meaningless conquests while ignoring love

I call her more than once a week now and am eager to help with favors. Instead of short visits, I stay for hours and let her talk. If I sense she needs something, I get it without asking. I start sentences with "I don't know how you…" and recite everything she did raising me. My Mom's happiness skyrocketed. This weekend I'm escorting her to the Turkish festival—coffee, fortune readings, bonding with her friends. This matters infinitely more than any notch ever did.

My 22-year-old sister has an active social life, texting friends constantly but goes weeks without calling Dad or visiting, though she lives twenty minutes away. I hope she doesn't take as long as I did to realize where actual value lies. Family time compounds in ways casual sex never will. The relationships that matter most require consistent, unglamorous investment over years. That's the real game—not conquest, but genuine connection.