There was a time—not that long ago—when I thought I was a genius. Not in a quiet, humble, “I’ve read a few books” kind of way. No, I mean full-blown, spreadsheet-wielding, screenshot-posting, group-chat-dominating confidence. Because everything I bought went up. Tech stocks? Up. Unprofitable disruptors with names that sounded like startup passwords? Up. Companies that proudly announced they had “no clear path to profitability but incredible user engagement”? Especially up. It was like the market had collectively decided that vibes were a valid valuation metric. And I, naturally, concluded this was due to my exceptional investing skill. The Golden Age of “Just Buy Growth and Shut Up” If you weren’t investing during the growth boom, let me paint you a picture. Every company was the future. Every CEO was a visionary. Every earnings call sounded like a TED Talk about how profits were optional but ambition was mandatory. And the best part? The market rewarded it. You didn’t...
I used to think investing was supposed to feel exciting. You know the feeling—the rush of watching a stock spike, the adrenaline of timing an entry just right, the quiet (and sometimes loud) confidence that this pick, this one right here, is going to change everything. I thought that was the game. Buy low, sell high, repeat until you’re financially untouchable. And to be fair, that game works… occasionally. Just often enough to keep you hooked. But over time, something shifted for me. Not overnight. Not dramatically. Just slowly, quietly, like a realization that creeps in after you’ve made the same mistake a few too many times. I started asking a different question: “What if investing isn’t supposed to be exciting?” That’s when I discovered—really understood —the long-term dividend advantage. And once I saw it clearly, I couldn’t unsee it. The Moment I Realized Price Isn’t Everything For the longest time, I judged my investments the same way most people do—by price. If a st...