So, it happened again. Despite swearing I’d never step foot in an escort’s place, I walked past a massage parlor I used to visit regularly. After weeks of built-up sexual frustration, and with attractive, curvaceous women crossing my path nonstop today, I couldn’t resist. I stopped at the nearest ATM and went inside for the “extra” service.
That’s not even the worst part. One of the women there remembered me and flew into a rage on whatsapp because I chose someone else. She claimed the other girls noticed the eyes language between us and mocked her for “losing” her client. She kept manipulating and guilt-tripping me afterward, even though I know full well she only sees me as a paying customer. Still, I let myself believe there was something more; that our “connection” had been damaged. I knew the drama was just her way of getting me to visit her, and I went anyway.
These women charge premium rates, and their clientele is mostly from the city’s high society, not someone like me scraping by on a modest third world salary. In the end, I blew through 55% of my monthly pay between the house fee and the two escorts (who charge triple what you pay at the front desk).
And it still didn’t stop there. After threatening to block me and pressuring me to see her, she blocked me right after I left. I’ve never felt more worthless than I did tonight. Why do I keep fooling myself into thinking there’s any real bond between me and a prostitute? It’s probably just the crushing loneliness talking. I feel like hurting myself. My friend is furious with me for falling for this cheap whore drama, and now our trip next week is ruined because of my terrible finances. I feel like a complete subhuman. I want to quit this world.
That’s not even the worst part. One of the women there remembered me and flew into a rage on whatsapp because I chose someone else. She claimed the other girls noticed the eyes language between us and mocked her for “losing” her client. She kept manipulating and guilt-tripping me afterward, even though I know full well she only sees me as a paying customer. Still, I let myself believe there was something more; that our “connection” had been damaged. I knew the drama was just her way of getting me to visit her, and I went anyway.
These women charge premium rates, and their clientele is mostly from the city’s high society, not someone like me scraping by on a modest third world salary. In the end, I blew through 55% of my monthly pay between the house fee and the two escorts (who charge triple what you pay at the front desk).
And it still didn’t stop there. After threatening to block me and pressuring me to see her, she blocked me right after I left. I’ve never felt more worthless than I did tonight. Why do I keep fooling myself into thinking there’s any real bond between me and a prostitute? It’s probably just the crushing loneliness talking. I feel like hurting myself. My friend is furious with me for falling for this cheap whore drama, and now our trip next week is ruined because of my terrible finances. I feel like a complete subhuman. I want to quit this world.
