See, I get to go out on all these amazing dates with my man, and all you ever sit there and do is just jerking, don’t you? Sit there and you just, you know, wait for the bill, wait to somehow feel relevant. Relevant? You never will be, huh?
Do you think that a woman like me would ever fuck some little sad, pathetic, beaded bitch like you? No. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re stroking to yourself. That’s why you’re worshiping my perfect body so often. You know that you’ll never, ever get a taste. You know that all you can do is be the little sad, lonely, hand-humper that you are, waiting to pay whatever tabs that I cough up for you. Whatever my man and I do, dinner, drinks, new lingerie, hotel room, all of it by you. And you get none of the action. Absolutely none of it. You just sit there all by yourself, just, oh, I wish I wasn’t such a fucking little cuck bitch. But nothing that you can do about that, right? It’s not like you can choose what you’re born to be.
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