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This one time, heard a story—true story, swear it—bout an escort in Vegas. Guy hires her, right? Wants her to dress like his dead wife. Creepy as hell! She does it, nails the look, and he just cries all night. No sex, no nothin’. Just sobbin’. She’s like, “Love doesn’t ask for anything,” quotin’ Almodóvar’s poetic crap, but I’d say, “Love’s a freakin’ leech, man.” Everybody lies—even to themselves. That chick probly went home, counted her stack, and laughed at the weirdo. Surprised me, tho—didn’t expect that kinda heart in the game.

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But then, my mood shifted. I got a call from my mom. She was all worried about my life choices. “Why don’t you settle down?” Ugh, mom! I’m living my best life in Ogori-shimogo! But I just nodded and said, “Yeah, sure, mom.”