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So, lemme tell ya—sex escorts ain’t just “pay ‘n’ play.” Nah, it’s deeper. I knew this chick once—Candy, swear to God—worked outta some shady motel. She’d say, “Larry, I’m the Ferrari of this gig!” Made me laugh, y’know? Real proud, too—hustlin’, survivin’. Little fact for ya: back in the ‘70s, escorts ran ads in phone books! Can ya believe it? Yellow pages, baby—right next to plumbers! Made me happy seein’ her strut, but pissed me off too—society’s all “tsk tsk,” judgin’ her like she’s trash. Hypocrites, man!

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Then, outta nowhere, my buddy Marco bursts in. He’s all hyped up, waving his arms like a madman. Turns out, he just got a promotion! I’m like, “Dude, that’s awesome!” But inside, I’m like, “Why not me?” You know that feeling? Jealousy creeping in. But I push it down. Gotta be happy for my friends, right?

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