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Lately I’ve been wrestling with something.

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I’ve gotten pretty good at this game — the travel game, the perks game, the luxury-for-less game.

It all starts with maximizing every dollar.

I can book flights for a fraction of the usual cost — often paying way less than most people would.

I’ve got Star Alliance Gold status, miles, lounges, even hotel upgrades — all of it.

And honestly? It’s been amazing, especially when my loved ones can enjoy the perks with me.

This used to be a dream. A distant one. Now, it’s my normal.

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And I want to share it. I want to post about the priority perks, the lounge access, the redeemed business/first-class flights, the five-star upgrades.

I want people to see the game I’ve figured out how to unlock, the game that pays off in ways both seen and unseen.

But here’s the tension: part of me doesn’t want to teach people how to do it.

It’s not about hoarding the knowledge. It’s just… I don’t want to explain it all.

I don’t want to dive into credit card hacks, alliances, or those “magic platforms” people always think exist for cheap flights.

I don’t want to answer a hundred DMs asking for shortcuts, because this isn’t just about one or two tricks — it’s about understanding how everything fits together.

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I just want people to see the end result and think: Damn, that’s clever.

I want them to wonder how I’m pulling it off — not just assume I’m rich or reckless, dropping cash on luxury.

Because that curiosity? That wondering how? That’s the payoff. That’s what feels different. That feels earned.

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But then another part of me kicks in:

Am I just chasing admiration?

Am I too focused on being the clever one — the one who always finds a way others miss?

Maybe. And that’s the uncomfortable part.

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Not because seeking recognition is wrong — but because sometimes, it feels like I need it.

Like I need people to be impressed. Like the mystery is what makes it valuable.

Like once you explain the trick, it’s just… a trick. It shrinks. Becomes ordinary.

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And the truth is, I’ve put in the work.

I’ve spent late nights in forums. I’ve studied T&Cs like a lawyer.

I’ve searched for ways to stretch my money and miles while everyone else was doomscrolling.

I’m so devoted to this that I can rattle off airport codes and know what routes airlines cover without even thinking.

And I’ve missed opportunities and passed up some pretty good deals because I didn’t know better back then.

I didn’t stumble into this. I earned it.

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This has become a kind of fun KPI for me ever since I graduated.

It’s how I keep my brain engaged — planning, optimizing, making every piece fit just right. Like solving a living puzzle.

It brings me satisfaction. A sense of achievement.

It’s an art.

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And the hardest part?

Someone can have dinner with me, ask a few questions, and walk away with shortcuts that took me months to figure out.

When they casually ask for the “secret,” it’s hard not to feel conflicted.

Because no, I don’t want to just hand it over.

When you give away knowledge too freely, people don’t value it the same.

They see the win and assume it was easy.

That’s the part that stings.

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I hate when extraordinary things are underappreciated.

This isn’t just about perks. It’s about recognition. It’s about being seen.

Not for the lifestyle, but for the intention and the execution behind it.

The patience. The precision. The strategy.

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Maybe that’s ego.

Or maybe it’s just human.

You don’t just want to flex the results — you want people to see the silent effort, the decisions, the mindset behind it.

Because it’s not random. It’s not luck. It is smart.

And there’s nothing wrong with that though.

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There always will be an invisible barrier that makes people overlook the depth of what you’ve done.

And It feels like an unhealthy obsession sometimes:

Wanting recognition without having to brag.

Wanting the magic to stay mysterious — but still be understood.

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Maybe that’s just a quiet kind of pride.

The kind that doesn’t need applause — just wants to be recognized for it.

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