It's A Match!

I swiped right on a HB6 and the Tinder phrase pops up. After scanning her bio, comes to find out she's a stripper/escort. Hm, interesting. After a few hours of securing her number, I'm hit with the "wyd right now? Come over:)". Of course, we all know what getting a message like that at 10pm on a Sunday means.

I clean up, put on a little cologne, and make it to her place. She answers the door, we hug, and go up to her room. The only furniture she really has is her bed so we chill on it. There was kino and escalation, but things began to derail quickly. Come to find out, she writes. I read one of her pieces and man...fuck. It was about her life and it was fucking dark. I asked her why she chose what she did and she shrugged and said "It pays the bills."

I wish I could say I shook it off and held frame, but I didn't. She tried to initiate again, but something deep down inside me broke. I wanted to reach out, hug her, and tell her life doesn't have to be this way, but what the fuck would that have accomplished? After 10 minutes of awkward small talk, I excused myself saying I had work in the morning. On the way home, I just couldn't shake off a feeling of sadness. I think I glimpsed a peek of how the actual world operates.

I came to the realization last night and this morning that...I can't save her. Even if I could, why would she want to be saved? Women have an unlimited source of validation, attention, and resources to not face their internal problems. Yes, I had the chance at sex that other men would pay hundreds for, but wouldn't that be feeding into the problem?

I don't know, the other night really fucked with my head. If this is how the world operates, damn it's depressing. Sorry for the rant, I just really had to get this off my chest. Thanks for reading.