Normies probably enjoy this in some perverse way, convoking a herd of slackjawed hedonists to their home or making the pilgrimage to strobe-lit halls of debauchery, spinning like a dervish, dispensing cash, attention, and liquor to any dead-eyed thot that makes the slightest tic of acknowledgement. Throwing their wages into the air in ebulliant rapture just to bed some soused obeast once or twice a month. Clubs and parties are for broken, unsalvageable cretins.
Chad just invites a succession of Tinder thots to his abjectly squalid efficiency apartment and beds them without even having to buy condoms.
But ER, the victor, gave his life to transcend the woe and illusion of mere existence.
