Just watched the bartender line up 10 pornstar martinis in front of us. Paid by a sub who’s currently eating instant noodles for the rest of the month. Worth it for him, entertainment for us, free drinks for the whole squad. Perfect system.
Sitting in the rooftop bar with the girls. 4 cocktails just arrived. €200 bill. One quiet little pig in my DMs paid it before we even finished the first sip. He won’t get a thank you, just the privilege of knowing we’re toasting to his emptiness. Cheers.
You don’t get to call me “princess” if your idea of spoiling me is a €10 Amazon gift card you found in your inbox. That word is reserved for men who actually understand hierarchy.
You think ignoring my wishlist and sending “good morning princess” every day is devotion? No, that’s what broke boys call strategy. Real devotion has zeroes attached to it. Lots of them. Until then you’re just background noise with a pulse.
Nothing makes me laugh harder than a grown man trying to “negotiate” the price of my attention. You don’t negotiate with queens, darling. You pay the fee or you watch from a distance like the peasant you are.