Yeah, I know.
Fucked up title.
But hear me out.
For the longest time, BeHooked wasn't just something I was building.
BeHooked was Yash. Yash was BeHooked.
People knew me because of BeHooked.
If BeHooked was winning, I felt like I was winning.
If BeHooked was fucked, I felt like I was fucked.
Somewhere between building it, selling it, pitching it, fighting for it and spending basically every waking hour thinking about it, I stopped saying:
“I'm building BeHooked.”
And started believing:
“I am BeHooked.”
And that is probably one of the stupidest things founders do.
Then BeHooked got acquired
And bro, it hurt.
Logically, I knew what was happening.
I was selling a company.
Some code. Some IP. Some customers. A brand. A business.
But emotionally?
It felt like I was cutting off my fucking hand and giving it to someone else.
Because this wasn't just a company anymore.
I had made it part of me.
And it's only been about a week since the acquisition, but I've been thinking about this a lot.
Today I was talking to Shubham Kanhojiya from IndiRepair, and somewhere in that conversation, this analogy came out of my mouth:
Your startup is a whore.
And you are the pimp.
And weirdly, that explained everything.
Your startup is not your identity
Your startup is not your identity.
It's not your personality.
It's not your self-worth.
And bro, it's not your baby.
I know founders love saying that.
“My startup is my baby.”
No.
It's a whore.
Your baby doesn't have MRR.
Your baby doesn't need a CAC payback period.
And hopefully you're not trying to sell your baby at a 10x multiple.
It's a business.
Its job is to create value.
Its job is to make money.
Its job is to give you leverage, freedom, wealth, opportunities, connections, whatever the fuck you started it for.
The whore works for the pimp.
Not the other way around.
But founders somehow reverse this entire relationship.
The business has a bad month and suddenly:
“Am I a failure?”
“What if this shuts down?”
“What will people think?”
“What will I do with my life?”
Bro.
Relax.
The whore had a bad month.
You didn't stop existing.
The startup can die.
You won't.
The startup can get acquired.
You don't get acquired.
The startup can fail.
That doesn't automatically make you a failure.
Love what you build—just don't become it
And I think this is what I was struggling to understand with BeHooked.
I loved BeHooked.
I still fucking love BeHooked.
I gave it years of my life.
I obsessed over every tiny thing.
I celebrated its wins.
I took its losses personally.
So obviously selling it felt emotional.
I'm not saying founders shouldn't love what they build.
You should.
Treat your whore well.
Invest in her.
Make her look great.
Protect her.
Help her make a shit ton of money.
Just don't wake up one morning and convince yourself that you are her.
That's the distinction.
Because one day you might sell the company.
One day you might shut it down.
One day the market might change and the whole thing might become worthless.
And if you've wrapped your entire identity inside that startup, you're fucked.
Not because the business is gone.
But because you don't know who you are without it.
That's the mistake.
The whore can change. The pimp stays.
Before BeHooked, I was Yash.
While building BeHooked, I was Yash.
After BeHooked, I'm still fucking Yash.
Maybe I build another company.
Maybe I build ten.
Maybe one becomes huge.
Maybe one dies in six months.
Whatever.
The whore can change.
The pimp stays.
And weirdly, thinking about business like this has made me feel much lighter.
Because BeHooked wasn't me.
It was something I created.
Something I loved.
Something I built from nothing.
Something that taught me an insane amount.
And eventually, something I sold.
That's okay.
That's actually the fucking point.
So build your startup.
Love your startup.
Obsess over your startup.
Make it insanely valuable.
But stop making it your identity.
Your startup is the whore.
You are the pimp.
Know the difference.