tortured's padded cell

[tortured soul]

Welcome... I guess... to tortured's padded cell. Do not cross the yellow line in front of the bars for any reason. Do not approach or pass anything through the bars. Do not be drawn into conversation about yourself, you do not want a single personal piece of information inside this woman's head. Do not underestimate her short stature and thin frame. Alert an orderly if the patient requires care or sedation. Do not deviate from this protocol one iota for any reason.​

Well, that's the formalities out of the way.

I must not tell lies... I must not tell lies... I must not tell lies...

Sometimes, I just shouldn't be permitted to mix with society. Sometimes I need a place for quiet contemplation, even if introspection is the absolute last thing I want to do. Sometimes I hurt myself but it doesn't hurt. Sometimes I'm just numb. I appear to have a finite supply of sanity and self control kicking around inside my skull and when it's gone, well it's gone and for quite some while. Sometimes I run out of reasons to breathe. Sometimes I see absolute logic in killing myself. Sometimes I just don't want to be, to think or to wake up to the same shit ever again. Sometimes oblivion from booze or drugs just isn't oblivion. Sometimes I hurt people physically and/or emotionally because I am totally convinced that they'd be better off without me in their lives and I therefore want them to go away. I am pathologically introverted and there are very few people I can tolerate the company of for longer than it takes to drain a glass. Even sex has no intimacy for me, which is a good thing because I'm an escort. I'm finally free of the juvenile social care system and I have control over my own life, what I've craved for years and yet, I am inescapably out of control.

I shouldn't be writing this because I shouldn't be here. Last night I took a month's worth of psyche meds with a bottle of vodka. I got into bed hoping and expecting never to wake up. I woke up in my own piss and vomit and am now aggravatingly alive and without any more medication. I now need a new mattress and groceries and all the mundane crap that goes with being alive. I still don't feel like I can take another day.

And I hate myself for this, that because of some shit I suffered when I was younger I have blossomed into a walking cliche, a bleak social statistic. I am beneath my own contempt, which is no place to be when I have a scorching hangover.

I ditched my last shrink when he branded me obstinate because I didn't want to join an amateur dramatic group or go to college. My whole life has been ordered and structured for me by people I cannot stand and do not trust. The absolute last place I need to be is in a fucking classroom. I don't want to better myself or plan for the future because right now I just do not want a future of any description. I'm sick and tired of picking apart my short and pitiful life in order to have the glaringly obvious reasons for my mental health problems pointed out to me. It doesn't take a fucking psyche degree, that's for damn sure.

The medication works when it works, but it blunts me, it makes me stupid. Maybe happiness and optimism simply require a certain degree of stupidity. I hate having to choose between being miserable or retarded. I hate feeling like and being treated as a retard because I'm on psyche meds. It frequently makes me batshit homicidal.

So maybe typing this shit here will me process it. I've never kept a journal before, never had the slightest desire to document my existence. But if anyone knows what's wrong with me and why, it's me. If anyone can figure out a way to live with all this shit inside my head and form some kind of long term gameplan, it's me when I'm not on medication... or drunk or high. Fuck the quacks, I'll shrink my own head and cram all the years of misery into a reinforced crate marked 'Do not open under any circumstances, you dumb fucking cunt.'

Truthfully, I'm sick of myself, bored and exhausted. Very little challenges or interests me. For all practical purposes I'm a walking void. I'm almost certainly sociopathic or at least highly dissociative. I genuinely want to murder my father, I often fantasise about it, it would take days and I would sleep like a baby afterwards. It's beginning to dawn on me that unless something changes I'm going to wake up one day a fully fledged monster. I'm a tiny, scrawny little girl and already when I get a certain look in my eye people back the fuck off. Whatever it is they're afraid of, it's a justifiable fear. I trained in martial arts and as a means of defence but now I feel like a weapon.

I am incapable of love and frequently of empathy or pity. I view all the warm fuzzy emotions basically as weaknesses. I cannot stand them in lovers or friends. Love is something I don't trust, need or want in my life and 99% of the time, I am completely ok with that. I'm aware that I'm broken inside. I'm actually glad that my father maimed my internal plumbing with his abuse because I am the kind of woman who should be barren. I don't feel like a woman at all. I have never known a maternal bond, I have no tits or curves and I can't procreate and have zero desire to. I hate children, they're even more pointless and annoying than most adults. The only being I have any kind of emotional bond with is my cat. He was a fellow outcast when he found me; a fleabitten, worm riddled stray with clear evidence of having suffered abuse at human hands. He, the lucky fucking bastard, gets to live out his days in complete security and comfort in my apartment. He's even beginning to stop ripping his own fur out and growling or hissing at me whenever I touch him. His life problems are over and part of me deeply resents that whenever I look at him curled contentedly somewhere. One day he's going to just purr when I stroke him and I may have to wring his little neck for that.

goes away from behind her eyes and slumps vacantly in the corner of her cell

 

[Raivh]

RE: Analize This

Stands at a distance, behind the yellow line and away from the cold metal bars.

You’re a pathological liar who’s in control yet uncontrollable, lacking society’s ignorance, and harboring contempt for anything and everything. This journal is titled in apparent challenge, if nothing more than to observe the outside world go roundy-round the merry-go-round and drive themselves into the ground. But, as you said, no one knows what’s wrong with you except yourself, so what’s the point of analyzing what you don’t desire to unveil? And who’s to say all of the above isn’t a misrepresentation of your life, or a desperate cry for help with underlying meaning to stay the fuck away?

Wanders off.

 

[tortured soul]

RE: Analize This

Stands at a distance, behind the yellow line and away from the cold metal bars.

You’re a pathological liar who’s in control yet uncontrollable, lacking society’s ignorance, and harboring contempt for anything and everything. This journal is titled in apparent challenge, if nothing more than to observe the outside world go roundy-round the merry-go-round and drive themselves into the ground. But, as you said, no one knows what’s wrong with you except yourself, so what’s the point of analyzing what you don’t desire to unveil? And who’s to say all of the above isn’t a misrepresentation of your life, or a desperate cry for help with underlying meaning to stay the fuck away?

Wanders off.

I intended the thread title to be a double-entendre but I see now that it looks attention seeking. I may well change it.

I was clicking through the journals here and thought 'what the hell, beats group therapy.' I guess I'm writing here because I can and because other people may be able to offer insight that hasn't occurred to me.

As for the lying, it's something I do have a degree of control over. It's necessary in my current profession and in my favourite recreational activity, which is poker. It's also necessary in order to present a half-sane façade to the world at large. It's a double-edged talent that I utilise when it suits me and sometimes just to amuse myself but I have nothing to gain from using it here.

But hey, thanks for stopping by, you go ahead and have a nice day now.

...must not lie

slaps self across the face

Shut it bitch.

 

[ThomasRHellsing]

Welcome to the jungle, I'm a sexual deviant semi sadistic ass hole. I piss people off, make them angry with me, or just disgusted because I now at the end of the day everyone who can betray you will, and those that don't are just waiting to see a sensitive or exposed area. I get more joy out of hearing a woman scream, or beg then I do any sort of sex. I've physically damaged mot of my female partners who I've shown the real me, although a surprising number return. I always hear the voices, the fun voices telling me to grab the bitch by her throat, squeeze until her eyes widen, tempt fate, see how long how tight I can hold before the light fades from her eyes.

I don't know why I like pushing boundaries, not even pain persay, just pushing seeing what I can do, seeing what will make them react this way or that. The dark side is always their, looking for a victim a chance to burn, or twist. Looking for a chance to be let out, sometimes I wonder if it's really my dark side, or the real me, and what most people consider the normal me is just societies brainwashing. If the depression that gnaws at me, and the hate that boils under my skin were to be let loose if I would be caught before or after I'm infamous....

Just letting you know, so if you come up with some miracle magical cure, besides a .45 to the brain you'll share it. Alot of people here have issues I've actually found a few people who sicken even me though they are few and far between. I look forward to talking to you more....

 

[miles]

Says the dude quoting "Bad Touch" in his sig and with Duke Nukem as his AV, lol.

@tortured: I have to agree with the Raivh guy. You seem to dramatize and glamorize a lot of the admittedly negative aspects of your personality and life. That being said, it was an entertaining read, despite the gloating about how messed up and out of reach you are.

 

[Raivh]

Says the dude quoting "Bad Touch" in his sig and with Duke Nukem as his AV, lol.

@tortured: I have to agree with the Raivh guy. You seem to dramatize and glamorize a lot of the admittedly negative aspects of your personality and life. That being said, it was an entertaining read, despite the gloating about how messed up and out of reach you are.

Whoa there. Don't twist my words up. I'm not going to trample on her for wanting to write this out, in whatever way she wanted to write it out.

 

[miles]

Says the dude quoting "Bad Touch" in his sig and with Duke Nukem as his AV, lol.

@tortured: I have to agree with the Raivh guy. You seem to dramatize and glamorize a lot of the admittedly negative aspects of your personality and life. That being said, it was an entertaining read, despite the gloating about how messed up and out of reach you are.

Whoa there. Don't twist my words up. I'm not going to trample on her for wanting to write this out, in whatever way she wanted to write it out.

That's funny. I didn't trample on her either. I stated an opinion. It wasn't a condemnation.

 

[tortured soul]

Says the dude quoting "Bad Touch" in his sig and with Duke Nukem as his AV, lol.

@tortured: I have to agree with the Raivh guy. You seem to dramatize and glamorize a lot of the admittedly negative aspects of your personality and life. That being said, it was an entertaining read, despite the gloating about how messed up and out of reach you are.

Other people have seen fit to dramatise my life. I'm just trying to process it. I wasn't trying to gloat, I just typed my train of thought, let it flow and posted it. You and I officially have different definitions of 'glamorise.' When something is your status quo you normalise it, you don't have any other option.

A different kind of person would merely have clicked away without feeling the need to convey their derision. If anyone's bringing drama to this thread it's therefore you.

 

[ThomasRHellsing]

Duke Nukem is the definition of what I want to be. He does scary mind rending things that would make a normal an at the very least blink, and yet he doesn't' even pause. he jut makes a one liner and goes about his business. He is nearly suicidal but he doesn't slow down, doesn't bother to think just keeps going and keeps killing. He's a bit of a satire, but it's still interesting.

TO me the song always struck a cord, that line in particular. That a woman and a man are nothing but animals. Nothing but beasts barely held back by a thin strand of "Civilization". Animals hump who and what they want, kill anything that they choose that isn't higher on the food chain. Females are mated with males that beat them in conquest. ((Many animal "fight" for the right to mate, Dogs, Cats, etc. etc. and very few mate for life)).

I also enjoy both because it's easy to see exactly what you saw. A goofy video game character, and a stupid quote. I've found you find out a lot more about a person by giving them an image and letting hem tell you what it means. As opposed to telling people what the image means in it. I may be expecting too much though....

Finally, if it matters, I find the meaning changes depending on my moods. Part of being Bi Polar with a side of depression, and so it changes depending on how I feel at the time.

 

[Verse]

Walks in, phone to his ear, in the dying stages of a laughter. Stops by the yellow line.

Yeah, I'm telling you, she's real. Yeah. Uh-hu. No, not insane, I mean seriously broken. Remember those cheap carnival, plastic guns you could buy back in the day? Yeah, like when they shattered. Imma send you a pic, kay?

Holds up the back of the phone, producing a clicking sound and a minuscule flash. Laughs again as he looks at the screen.

Got it? Yeah, I told you. I think you can see her pussy under the jacket, too, sorta makes me sympathize with her father, Haha. Leave? No way, I hadda finger a nurse to get in here.

Puts his phone away.

Seriously though, I like this little space. Especially what you said about the mattress. Somehow the image makes me all giddy. Voided bladders for any reason just seem so honest, if not passionate. And guess what? I'm a vodka man too! Although I like the idea of oak in my drinks, both for color and taste, I just can't stand it.

The fact that you've taken martial arts of course makes me wanna toss you around after having built up your confidence about it. But from what I read maybe building your confidence would be a matter of alchemy. I'm not sure anything you put here is for the enjoyment of others, but I thought I'd let you know anyway, haha. I of course also was struck by the fantasy of mutilating your cat close or infront of you, but as with everything, I'd have to wonder if that would have any affect whatsoever.

I like this place and I hope you post here regularly.

 

[tortured soul]

Welcome to the jungle, I'm a sexual deviant semi sadistic ass hole. I piss people off, make them angry with me, or just disgusted because I now at the end of the day everyone who can betray you will, and those that don't are just waiting to see a sensitive or exposed area. I get more joy out of hearing a woman scream, or beg then I do any sort of sex. I've physically damaged mot of my female partners who I've shown the real me, although a surprising number return. I always hear the voices, the fun voices telling me to grab the bitch by her throat, squeeze until her eyes widen, tempt fate, see how long how tight I can hold before the light fades from her eyes.

I don't know why I like pushing boundaries, not even pain persay, just pushing seeing what I can do, seeing what will make them react this way or that. The dark side is always their, looking for a victim a chance to burn, or twist. Looking for a chance to be let out, sometimes I wonder if it's really my dark side, or the real me, and what most people consider the normal me is just societies brainwashing. If the depression that gnaws at me, and the hate that boils under my skin were to be let loose if I would be caught before or after I'm infamous....

Just letting you know, so if you come up with some miracle magical cure, besides a .45 to the brain you'll share it. Alot of people here have issues I've actually found a few people who sicken even me though they are few and far between. I look forward to talking to you more....

I know you have a lot of very rational reasons for your hatred so I do kind of sympathise with you. I think everyone has it within them to become a psycho killer, given the right set of triggers and circumstances. Civilization is a thin veneer and I think many western men have been somewhat disenfranchised by the rise of modern concepts of equality and the decline in physically demanding professions. Nobody would accept The Simpsons or Family Guy if the mother or daughter characters were fat and stupid but it's somehow acceptable to malign men and often for traits that are primarily biological imperatives that can't just be shaken off.

 

[tortured soul]

Walks in, phone to his ear, in the dying stages of a laughter. Stops by the yellow line.

Yeah, I'm telling you, she's real. Yeah. Uh-hu. No, not insane, I mean seriously broken. Remember those cheap carnival, plastic guns you could buy back in the day? Yeah, like when they shattered. Imma send you a pic, kay?

Holds up the back of the phone, producing a clicking sound and a minuscule flash. Laughs again as he looks at the screen.

Got it? Yeah, I told you. I think you can see her pussy under the jacket, too, sorta makes me sympathize with her father, Haha. Leave? No way, I hadda finger a nurse to get in here.

Puts his phone away.

Seriously though, I like this little space. Especially what you said about the mattress. Somehow the image makes me all giddy. Voided bladders for any reason just seem so honest, if not passionate. And guess what? I'm a vodka man too! Although I like the idea of oak in my drinks, both for color and taste, I just can't stand it.

The fact that you've taken martial arts of course makes me wanna toss you around after having built up your confidence about it. But from what I read maybe building your confidence would be a matter of alchemy. I'm not sure anything you put here is for the enjoyment of others, but I thought I'd let you know anyway, haha. I of course also was struck by the fantasy of mutilating your cat close or infront of you, but as with everything, I'd have to wonder if that would have any affect whatsoever.

I like this place and I hope you post here regularly.

watches as he comes into view... the untouchable. maybe he'll be confident enough to overstep the line... to come closer and take his picture? No. Pussy. I smile to myself.

You're the pussy.

Listens to him talk, watching his mouth move excitedly, his eyes gleaming, body shining with lust. But he's not the type to bite into a rotten apple; all clean and shiny and yet totally fixated on my tiny body and fucked up life. He's just a voyeur and I have plenty of those. He's not the kind of man who could induce me to void my bladder in abject terror, no matter how giddy it would make him. Needling me about my father, really? Like a right hook from a retard, it's clumsy and lacking in imagination. Look at him strutting, he can be as brazen as he wishes he was while I'm caged in here.

My little slasher can take care of himself.

Slasher, Oscar, Scragamuffin, capricious little shit, he's a cat of many names and he answers to precisely none of them, much like myself. I scratch my fingers idly on the floor as though expecting him to trot up to me warily, keeping his distance, claws bared. My eyes flick up to meet my visitor's, as though noticing him for the first time.

Here little versey...

I grin maniacally, imagining his darling girlfriend's collar around his neck, the short leash she has him on, even here in space devoted entirely to unfettered fantasy. How close will she let him get before she yanks him back I wonder?

 

[ThomasRHellsing]

Welcome to the jungle, I'm a sexual deviant semi sadistic ass hole. I piss people off, make them angry with me, or just disgusted because I now at the end of the day everyone who can betray you will, and those that don't are just waiting to see a sensitive or exposed area. I get more joy out of hearing a woman scream, or beg then I do any sort of sex. I've physically damaged mot of my female partners who I've shown the real me, although a surprising number return. I always hear the voices, the fun voices telling me to grab the bitch by her throat, squeeze until her eyes widen, tempt fate, see how long how tight I can hold before the light fades from her eyes.

I don't know why I like pushing boundaries, not even pain persay, just pushing seeing what I can do, seeing what will make them react this way or that. The dark side is always their, looking for a victim a chance to burn, or twist. Looking for a chance to be let out, sometimes I wonder if it's really my dark side, or the real me, and what most people consider the normal me is just societies brainwashing. If the depression that gnaws at me, and the hate that boils under my skin were to be let loose if I would be caught before or after I'm infamous....

Just letting you know, so if you come up with some miracle magical cure, besides a .45 to the brain you'll share it. Alot of people here have issues I've actually found a few people who sicken even me though they are few and far between. I look forward to talking to you more....

I know you have a lot of very rational reasons for your hatred so I do kind of sympathise with you. I think everyone has it within them to become a psycho killer, given the right set of triggers and circumstances. Civilization is a thin veneer and I think many western men have been somewhat disenfranchised by the rise of modern concepts of equality and the decline in physically demanding professions. Nobody would accept The Simpsons or Family Guy if the mother or daughter characters were fat and stupid but it's somehow acceptable to malign men and often for traits that are primarily biological imperatives that can't just be shaken off.

"I've found a quote from Rambo scarily true in essence every one has a line that they are willing to kill at, at the right point at that line, killing becomes easy, killing becomes like breathing after your past that point."

I step up to the yellow line. Looking at the slightly feral slightly arousing woman, as I put my hands on the bars, "It's it wrong I want to put my hands around your throat and squeeze just wondering what reaction I'll get, fear, submission, anger, arousal, I honestly don't know you don't' seem the type to be scared, people like you we don't give a damn about dying, thus I wonder which will show up first."

 

[tortured soul]

And the Ho'cadamy Award for best actress goes to...

There's a myth pervading modern society multiple times a night in a town like yours, perpetuated by millions and millions of higher end prostitutes, or escorts. This myth, one that men buy into with the giddy naivete of a toddler leaving cookies out for Santa, is that 'real' men are naturally good lovers, once they meet the right woman.

Women who don't care for a particular guy's technique are not merely sexually incompatible, they're just plain wrong, frigid and probably closet lesbians. The media and advertising's insistence that proverbial 'soulmates' will naturally and spontaneously have awesome, life altering sex is one of the great lies of our time. It is aided and abetted cynically by the male-targeted porn industry, to the point where many male western teenagers actually believe that the average woman aches to give masochistically enthusiastic blowjobs and then be monotonously fucked in the ass for 30mins solid before having a load blown over her face. What poor pubescent teenage girl can deal with that kind of hype before she tries losing her virginity?

Billions of men globally use prostitutes, the industry is responsible for untold misery as evidenced by illegally trafficked sex slaves who are forcibly addicted to hard drugs. What you have to keep in mind when shaking your head indignantly at the whole sorry mess of forced prostitution, is that the industry only exists at all by virtue of market forces. The fact that every developed country has an invisible underclass of imprisoned multiple rape victims is a direct result of there being enough men willing to pay money to fuck these sorry creatures, with not one iota of pity for their plight. These are men you pass in the street every day, men who are colleagues and even friends, men who maintain respectable public façades, who have wives and children with zero clue what daddy gets up to when late home, away on business or whatever. The exact same thing therefore, is true of child prostitution. There is a supply because there is a demand and that is where society should be trying to fight this battle, in the twisted hearts and amoral minds of hardcore/rape porn-consuming, modern day male libertines.

In the mid-level echelon of the sex trade in which I operate, men are generally conscientious consumers. New users of the agency will often ask for assurance that I'm escorting of my own free will and that I'm over-age. They'll encourage me to tell them if I don't enjoy some aspect of the booking, because they're actually usually fairly decent men who want enjoyment to be mutual. They're often unsatisfied at home and don't feel able to discuss this with their partner because she's going through issues of one description or another, maybe pregnancy or motherhood or something else that's left her depressed and knocked her libido. Some guys are divorced and twice shy of settling down with another woman. Some are widowers or have partners that are chronically or terminally ill. Of course, there are young thrill seekers, unmitigated assholes, gangsters and drug dealers or those who don't want a relationship because it interferes with their lifestyle in some way. Some are moderately well known or professional sportsmen whose lifestyles are too nomadic to maintain relationships. Some are disabled or chronically ill themselves, unattractive, shy or otherwise at a serious disadvantage when it comes to dating. In short, one of the most shocking things about my clientèle is just how ordinary and largely law abiding most of them are. The only guys who really come across as sleazy are the corporate sharks, affluent men who already pretty much have it all but enjoy fucking escorts because it appeals to their own vanity, that they are successful enough to be able to pick up the phone and have a beautiful girl delivered within an hour or two, as cheap and disposable as take-out food.

But what's that got to do with the award for best actress? I hear you ask. Allow me to elucidate.

What this varied demographic of men has in common is that for a reasonable fee, they will experience much more than sex and for many guys, it's not the sex that's hopelessly addictive. I will find your conversation scintillating, all your jokes funny and whatever common ground/tastes I can actually or fraudulently claim to have, I will exploit them. Men often ask me a great deal about myself and because I'm not a moron and because they wouldn't want to know the truth, I tell them a practised cover story, complete with fraudulent 'real' name and approximate place of residence. Because I'm intelligent, I will remember key details and the next time you hire my company, I'll appear enchanted to see you again and ask you about whatever family member or life event you spoke about the last time, compounding your belief that I genuinely like you and that you are therefore 'different' and 'special' in my eyes, rather than just another walking credit card.

When we have sex, I will play the long game. Any escort who yelped vacantly like many porn stars would starve to death. I'll give you a high quality blowjob, assessing your reactions and filing away preferences for future reference. I'll do things that your girlfriend probably wouldn't be bothered to, like pay your balls attention or incorporate some frenulum/anal play if it's made clear to me that this is one of your kinks. Then either you'll take the lead and move things along to intercourse or I'll get the message that you want me to show some initiative. If you choose to go down on me you'll find mine the most hygienically clean cunt you've ever encountered, you'll also find my mouth minty fresh when we kiss. I'll respond slowly and subtly but nevertheless within a reasonably swift degree of time given that this encounter is about you. When we actually fuck I'll get more enthusiastic, urging you on in whatever you're doing. Even if you're the dullest, most clumsy and pathetic man who ever had sex, I will fake an orgasm and I will do so beautifully. I'll even be careful not to roll around too much and push you over the edge before you're ready. I'll flex on your cock with rock hard kegels and convince the most cynical bastard that he is in fact an excellent fuck. Then the myth kicks in, that it's not his treatment of the women in his life that has resulted in his dissatisfaction but the fact he just hadn't had sex with the right girl yet. Hollywood owes millions of guys a metric fuckton of sex therapy.

And what do I get for all my hard work? Do I get a round of applause? Do I get a sit down and a cup of tea? No. What I get is a cocky punter who now thinks he's a sex god. If I'm really unfortunate I get a cocky punter who starts suggesting that if I'm having so much fun, surely I should be the one paying him. What I almost always get is some arrogant moron who, having 'successfully' made me cum, gets an ego the size of his love handles and immediately tries to make me cum again. And I have to perpetuate this myth. Within about ten minutes I'll be faking another one and then usually I take the initiative and act like I'm 'rewarding' the guy, because I completely lack the patience to fake a third. By this time he's smugly pleased that my needs have been fully satisfied and I can make him focus on his own pleasure long enough to get him off. Then I have to linger and act reluctant to head to the bathroom.

Naturally this is by no means the only motivation men have for using escorts, often they want to explore kinks their partner won't or just need the visceral catharsis of a hard fuck during a period of frustration and dissatisfaction in their primary relationship. Sometimes it's purely about recreation and that includes drug use, because sex on some drugs is just phenomenal. Obviously, no two fucks are ever exactly the same but the above dissection is how the majority of my transactions play out. I knowingly and cynically exploite male egos, which while very fragile can nevertheless inflate instantly, to the point where I'm itching to get my hands on a metaphorical pin. But I create these monsters, this rod for my own cunt. There are guys who buy wholly and often unwittingly into this myth, who are addicted to being treated like they're god's gift to women. Guys who regularly use escorts inevitably wind up believing their own hype and become utterly unbearable... without adequate financial compensation anyway. I'm convincing enough that I've been asked to become a mistress on more than one occasion, to travel with guys and even to quit the game and settle down with them. These men genuinely believe that I think they're awesome, that is the double-edged high of the escort industry and often more central to a guy's enjoyment than the actual sex.

I know this is a ramble but I'm quite the amateur anthropologist these days.

 

[ThomasRHellsing]

I'll admit, it's a bit easy to say this, but anyoen who thinks men are the only ones who enoy that are bull shit.

Hell, look at a normal date, guy picks girl up ((Let's say 5$ for gas washing materials for his clothes etc. etc)) he compliments her ((Inflate the ego)) takes her out to eat ((Another 3$ gas atleast)) pays for the food ((A good place at least 30 dollars, maybe more)) takes her to a Movie, ((14$ tickets, 15 to 20 in snacks)) the whole time complimenting her, listening to her go on, and on about this or that. Then you drop her off, she kisses you good night, and goes inside.

I prefer hookers because then at least the 100$ goes towards what I want. All women are whores in a way, unless she picks me up, pays for dinner etc. etc. To me that would be a dream woman a woman willing to pay, who feigned interest who could pretend to give a damn when really her mind was totally on sex. No lies no fake interest.

I under stand what your saying, but I feel women are similar. Interested in true love than paying any attention to real life.

What are your thought on that?

 

[Wreckles]

If I were to pay you, I'd be getting my money's worth.