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Instead, I've perfected dysfunctional relationships with men. In fact, it's how I pay the bills. Insert that whau whau sound, the one that follows the end of a cheesy joke. I'm good at getting men stuck on me, like methadone or a fly strip. And much like drugs or that song, it's a love-and-bug-the-shit-out-of-me relationship. I often have two or three of these going on at the same time. It's exhausting. Why do I do this to myself? Perhaps there's something wrong with me? Some missing piece. My childhood was crazy and rough, but I think I came out ok. I think. I'm probably not the best at judging what's sane. I do know this; none of my (non sex working) friends could do what I do. Live five lives. Carry on such in-depth (and needy) relationships with multiple men. But here I am. And I do it. And I want everyone to be happy. Just as long as they don't call me.

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