Mark Lyford

Before the internet, before the adult industry, before all of it — I was a 14-year-old buying and selling racing pigeons, learning risk, reward, and the cost of trusting the wrong people. Before the internet. Before the adult industry. Before the Bahamas, the money, the collapse, the bankruptcy, the prison sentence, the comeback attempts, the software products, the memberships, the media plans, and all the other chapters that came later. There were pigeons. Racing pigeons.

p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000} span.s1 {font-kerning: none} Last week hit hard. The to-do list spiralled, the hit list grew way too long, and despite the best intentions, the weekend didn't deliver what I'd hoped. As the founder of Real Entrepreneur, I could easily put on a front and pretend everything's running smoothly — but that's not what this is about. Real means real.

There have been a few periods in my life when I have felt lonely. But there was one stretch that stands out above the rest. Seven and a half years single. Two years in prison. A business life that, even outside of prison, had a habit of taking everything I had to give and then asking for more. That combination does something to a person. It forces you into long stretches of silence. It sharpens your awareness of absence.