Ho on Wheels!

17 Oct

Last month, we had whats called “Street Vibrations.” It’s a giant motorcycle bonanza that results in a shit ton of motorcycles in the brothel parking lot. Usually you walk around outside a lot, in your heels, and by the end of the day you’re sore from all the walking.

So I said to myself, “fuck walking, I’m gonna bring my razor scooter, and cover more ground in less time!”

Sadly, my scooter was sorta broken – the handlebars kept sliding down. I asked if the maintenance people had pliers….the answer was no. I googled it and figured out pliers weren’t really what I needed anyway – what I needed (according to the Razor Scooter website) was an Alan wrench.  I hop on amazon.com and I’m drooling over this nice little stanley alan wrench pocket knife dealio. Thinking, “That’s what I need to buy.” 

Never the less, I manage to roll around on my razor scooter anyway, doing loops in the parking lot.

When asked questions I’d say,

“I’m a ho on wheels! I can cover more ground in less time!”

I ran into a group of guys and lamented about my broken scooter and how it needed an alan wrench.

Wouldn’t you know, this guy had the exact stanley alan wrench set I needed in his car. We rolled over to the grassy area and he knelt down to fix it. Problem solved.

So now, every week, I use my scooter to ride next door to go to the doctor.

Fuck walking.

I’m still a Ho on Wheels.

 

 

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The things you can do with a giant dildo

17 Oct

Around here, we have this giant double ended, flesh colored dildo. It’s almost 3 feet long, and too girthy to really use…but here’s what we use it for:

A few weeks ago, one of the girls had a rubber ball she was throwing around.

Another girl thinks the Floppy Dildo will lend itself nicely to a makeshift baseball bat.

The lightbulb goes off, and I throw her the ball. The ball hits the lights, bounces around, and we can’t stop laughing.

Best game of Cock and Ball ever.

Last week, the bartender showed me photos on his cel phone.

He had stuck the dildo in his pants and proudly let it hang to the floor. Worlds largest penis.

A couple days ago, a girl who is super teeny tiny (4′ 10″) decided to wedge the dildo JUST SO, so it was touching the floor. She proudly yells, “it’s a kickstand!” as its propping her up.

She starts playing with it and wrapping it around her neck.

I wrap it around her head in a crown format.

I say,“Look! It’s Penis Leia!” Come to the dark side, any time.

 

A cultural study in wearing more clothing: More= more.

4 Oct

My 10 day stint back home consisted of a wildly unexpected and chaotic series of events which ultimately resulted in having to sever a friendship with a person who at one time I cared for very much.

I dislike having to sever friendships when people get unexpectedly chaotic. Really though – the friendship was a by-product of…nice things I did for somebody because I wanted to be in a relationship, can’t right now because I’m busy being a prostitute, and thus, when I was “ballin with mad cash” – I was a little too nice to somebody in need. Ultimately doing the kinds of nice things that should be reserved for…people who actually love you back.  It was “wreckless kindness” at its finest, and had to come to an end.

Which left me here. Tired. Worn out. Needing a boost. Needing a lift.

Needing valium.Which I don’t have…but I did learn that Ativan is the equivalent to a buttload of valium.

And you might be like, “oh, you have a problem Bambi, you are self medicating.”

Um. No.

Said meds were prescribed a doctor. And its not like I can go out and get laid to “forget about it.” because, I’m already here, getting paid to get laid. You can’t just forget about shit when you have significant downtime in this place. You can’t go have a vengeance fuck, because here, you have to be nice to people. I was an asshole for two days…it was affecting my business…and I hadn’t moved on to the wise choice of forgiveness. So – it was about forgetting.

ANYWAY.

I decided to indulge in retail therapy.

I’m not a dress wearing kind of girl but somehow I found an amazing online sale and thought dressing like a girly girl might be a nice change. I actually bought the clothes to wear at home…but seeing as I am never home…and I wanted to feel the effects of retail therapy NOW, I overnighted that shit, right here to my ranch! A big ass box awaited me a mere day and a half later.

I wasn’t going to actually WEAR the dresses. But I was too apathetic to strut my stuff with my ass hanging out in a bikini. Plus I’ve bonded so much with some of the staff here, I thought it might be nice for them to see how I would look dressed as a normal person who looked like she was going on a date, rather than a prostitute.

Turns out, I make BANK dressed like a normal girl going on a nice date.

I told my manager I was going to wear dresses for a week just as my own personal study to see if I made more money in dresses than I do in bikinis, and so far, it’s paying off. One guy decided to bone me twice in a day, one guy summoned me from all the way across the room, and one guy paid for a bungalow,  no problem. I’m attracting those mythological “big fish” that I thought didn’t exist.  

Oh. P.S. Last weekend was fucking shitty money wise because there were not one, but TWO shootings in Reno. Because nobody wanted to get shot by a Hell’s Angel or a Va-whatever, they decided they didn’t feel like going out and paying for sex either.

In conclusion…my retail therapy has resulted in quadruple the amount that I actually spent on said clothes, and I’m not even a week into my “Week of wearing dresses” test run. GO ME.

Pussy Ointment and Other Meanderings

7 Sep

I’ve been working my ass off since the beginning of last month. I have only taken a couple of days off, because I reallyreallyreallyreally want to save a LOT LOT LOT of money.

It’s great, because I did this little trick.

I wrote a number (in dollars) that I thought I should earn on a piece of paper.

I glued this piece of paper to my ceiling fan.

When the ceiling fan is off, I can look at that number.

As of today, I have earned that dollar amount…meaning, I have it in my bank account….AND I’ve treated myself to some pricey treats.

Workaholic I may be….but I have never been so proud.

With that said….I filled up my old client book….the one that I kept the names of clients in, and how much they paid.

I got a new composition notebook and instead of putting a name by a client…I just put the dollar amount they paid. Each dollar amount signifies a client.

I’m approaching client #100 since I have been here last month….which I”m sure is a personal record of some kind. I had 14 clients in one very busy weekend, wearing one amazing new dress…but mainly, I’ve been incredibly consistent.

With sexual gymnastics comes drawbacks:

Pain.

Fucking pain.

Or I should say, pain from fucking.

Countless times my co-workers have asked me,

“Don’t you use lube?” 

I answer, “YES, yes I do use lube.”

“Are you allergic to latex?” they ask.

“I am sensitive, so yes, I use non latex condoms.” 

“Do you use astroglide?” They want to know.

“Yes I have tried that, and I have tried other stuff  too.” 

It seems no matter how much lube one uses…what it boils down to is that I specialize in “short parties” (of the “Wham Bam Thank You Mam” nature) and the body is simply not equipped for such rapid and vigorous sexual olympics.

Combine this with the fact that some dicks are big…

and I am…well…SMALL….and you have a problem.

I have been known to seal up a small tear once with superglue.

Except this time I had a new kind of pain….like the “oh my god I have to stop fucking you because I am going to cry.”  kind of pain.

For occasions like this, I bought a “pocket pussy.”

It’s 8 bucks on amazon.com, and it saved my ass two nights ago.

I asked to take the next night off, so my vag could heal.

No problem, says management.

Still, I find myself googling message boards full of advice for what girls do when they suffer from vaginal tearing.

MD’s recommend neosporin, crisco, diaper rash ointment…all kinds of stuff.

So of course…OF COURSE…I went to the store…and promptly picked up the following:

-KY liquibeads (they cost 13 bucks you assholes!)

-Glycerin free astroglide (in case I have a glycerin sensitivity…the liquibeads have glycerin. WHATEVER.)

– Diaper rash ointment

– Crisco (yes…crisco…I know it’s not condom compatible…its for night time.)

– Ribbed condoms because they supposedly “hurt less”

– Cinnamon Toast Crunch (that’s for my mouf. Om Nom Nom)

Anyway…..I’m hoping this loving cocktail of “leave the vag alone, soak in epsom salts, apply ridiculous amounts of foreign substances.” will leave my pussy in pristine condition for the next five days of sexual olympics I have left.

If I ever manage to find a perfect combo, maybe I will make my own “Pussy Ointment” and whores around the world will rejoice, buy my goo, and I will grow rich.

The favorite part of my week….

28 Aug

The new staff in the new place is very likeable.

The manager digs me…she commented on my good work performance to the owner….and out of the three bartenders…two of them also double as security guards, and one of them works the night shift, five days a week. It makes me happy that this one is my favorite.

He’s young…..just turned 23…..but he”s got the stance of somebody much older and more responsible. He’s part tough guy, part teddy bear, and throughout most of the day, there is a smile on his face. He’s a midwestern type of boy who grew up playing football, respects his women, and if he ever trades in his teddy bear figure for hitting the gym, his looks will go from handsome to devastating in a hot minute.

One of his arms has no tattoos, while the other is covered with an arm piece that has lots of black roses. When I asked him about it once, he told me that his grandparents owned a flower shop, and his grandma would get these black roses…they weren’t really black he said…they were more like a very deep purple…and they were his favorite flower. Imagine a guy who is 6’5″ with a sweet smile and bright blue eyes telling you about his favorite flower.

Proceed to melt in the sweetest way possible.

One day some time after that, he was venting about his girl troubles.

He said he met this girl and she stayed the night at his house.

A couple of nights, actually. For whatever reason, she wasn’t having sex with him. BUT, he left the house early, bought her breakfast to take home to her, and then he went to the flower shop so he could have flowers on the table at breakfast.

He said “oh what do I buy? Yellow is for friendship…pink is for romance…red means love…well should I go with yellow? Oh fuck it, I’ll buy red.”

Picture a young guy pondering what color of roses to buy because he doesn’t want to send the wrong message to this girl.

Proceed  to melt in the sweetest way possible.  AGAIN.

The thing is, he’s not even old enough to know that the P.O.S. girl staying at his house didn’t even deserve that  kind of treatment. All you can do is hope that girls like her won’t leave guys like him jaded…and you hope that they will actually stay nice…and not have some bitch ruin him, so he goes through this jaded phase and ends up being an asshole to some girl who could actually love him.

I don’t think that phase would actually happen with him….well. I hope it won’t.

ANYWAY.

I don’t know if you could call it a crush, per se.

I have never ONCE fantasized about girly stuff like holding his hand, or making out, or some kind of secret friendship. NOPE. NOT ONCE.

I did ask him though a while back, what the policy was on staff hanging out with working girls.

He said that staff can hang out with other staff, and working girls can hang out with other girls…but staff cannot hang ot with girls. AND, if a staff member runs into a working girl outside of the ranch, say, at a club, the staff is supposed to find some other club to go to.

“Lets put it this way,” he said.

“If I even added you as my friend on facebook and management found out, I’d probably get fired.”

Cue sad music. Wahhh.

So, with all of that said…

I’ll get to the favorite part of my week now.

I work the night shift and its shitty. It’s grueling. I’m not supposed to sleep on my shift, but sometimes, it happens. I saw Mr. Teddyguard smoking a cigarette in the back. I felt like sitting in the chair next to his, which is separated by a small coffee table. I curled up in said chair and fell asleep.

He put his head on his hand and fell asleep too.

I didn’t tell him to wake up, he didn’t tell me to wake up either. I periodically opened my eyes to look over, and there he was, still sleeping…his converse shoes still to any kind of movement.

We both napped for like…an hour and a half.

He’s a good person to share space with.

That was the  favorite part of my week.

Why’d you have to pee the bed?

28 Aug

It’s been a slow few days here.

Granted, I have kept track of all of the parties I’ve had since I have been here, and since August the 5th my tally is at about 80 parties.

 

I have this fantasy that if I hit my 100th client of the month before I went home, I would have sirens go off and confetti fly and streamers fall down and I would say CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE MY 100TH CLIENT OF THE MONTH!

But alas, I think I will be heading home before that fantasy will happen.

Speaking of fantasy, picture if you will, a foxy gray haired man.

This gray haired man had already paid good money to party with a cute blonde girl, but he hadn’t gone back to party with her. He looked me up and down while thinking out loud and the only word he said was “Amazing.”

After which he said, “How late are you working? I will be back in an hour.”

An hour passes and both the bartender and the manager make a beeline for me as I’m talking with another customer, as if to say “Look this guy wants to talk to you NOW, and he’s gonna pay you good money.”

So I find him. We chat.

He pays me a nice four digit number for the hour.

We were chatting a bit before that, and he tells me he’s an entrepreneur, has a bunch of employees under him…combine this with his handsome looks and that salt and pepper hair, and he’s the picture of every brothel girl’s fantasy: We all wonder when we get a good one,  “Hey, is this Mr. Moneybags who’s going to sweep me off my feet? Is this the guy who’s going to take me away from here?”

I wonder this not because he’s THE GUY, but because he’s the picture of THAT GUY…fiscally responsible…so handsome…clearly finds me very charming. It would be so EASY.

We go into a nice bungalow to have our hour long session.

It’s fun and all.

He’s giddy.

He makes me laugh.

He tells me I am “quirky.”

We have sex, and he falls asleep.

I lie awake staring at the ceiling…thankful for the money I just made.

He wakes up.

He’s frisky again.

I notice…oh hey, the condom slipped off.

I try to retrieve the condom to throw it away.

I notice, “oh hey, it’s AWFULLY FULL.”

I quickly walk from the bed to the trashcan in the bathroom.

I figure, ok…he peed a little bit in the condom….no biggie…no mess.

Its dripping as I walk.

Pee is sterile.

It’s cool.

I wash my hands.

No big deal.

Then I get back to the bed.

By this time he has sprang to action to get up to pee.

I get back to the bed to realize…

no no, it wasn’t just the condom that was full.

Dude fully wet the bed while he was sleeping.

I quickly  try to arrange the sheets in some fashion to maybe cover up the fact that he peed. He was underneath the covers…so I’m trying to fold sheets…BUT NO. The pee keeps seeping through.

 

Then he decides he wants to spoon! He wants to spoon on top of his pee!

And I’m there, the smaller spoon…with the dampness beneath  me…crinkling my nose…

And my whole entire fantasy is ruined.

There will be no outside contact when a guy wets the bed.

This will not be a guy I will speak to again.

I make NO MENTION of the bed wetting thing. I just try to pretend it doesn’t exist.

And after that…it was like the perfect man was no more. And the realization of why Mr. Perfect doesn’t have a girlfriend, and why he’s here…..all comes into focus.

 

Oh well. It was fun for a little bit.

I think I’ve seen it all now.

Boffs of the Week

19 Aug

Hey Hey…here they are.

#1. Mr “I wanna be perfect for this girl.” You were barely old enough to drink, and I complimented you on the size of your dick. You asked if you did ok, because you were going on a date with this girl and you thought that the next date might be your night that sex happens. I assured you that you did fine and you have nothing to worry about.

#2. Mr. Before my wife wakes up for breakfast  You were here for Hot August Nights…like you do every year, and you’re married with kids. You’re much older than I am and not my type at all but you’re very gentlemanly and well behave, and I like that. You said that you like to wake up before your wife wakes up. We had fun one day and you rushed off. You said you’d be back on Monday to see me and wouldn’t you know it, there you were at the first Monday morning lineup. This time you wanted to add kissing to the mix, and you were so darn sweet that I said ok. You emptied your wallet for me. What love.

#3 Mr Scientist  I wondered by the vast amount of women if I would get picked in a lineup becasue there were so many other girls. You scanned up and down however and your eyes settled on me. On our way to negotiations I asked you what you did for a living. You said you were a neuropsychologist. So I asked you if you studied brain injuries. We spend the next 15 minutes TOTALLY geeking out about Neuroscience and psychology. I mean nerding out in the finest way possible. Then came the subject of sex. And after all this sex, you decided that what you would really be interested in was talking! We sat with our knees in the hot tub discussing life and future plans and money, and how I got here…and you told me about how there isn’t big money in Neuroscience and that you liked me so much as a friend, you were starting to doubt whether or not we should have sex. However once back in my room, you debated once or twice and then I took the wheel and rocked your world.  I really enjoyed geeking out with you.

Mr. Oh Shit  Hey! I’m always leary of the dark skin dudes for the sole reason that black men have huge dicks, and I cannot physically accomodate giant penises. However, you seemed cool, you seemed kick back. We discussed prices, you went out to the bar and thought about it, and then you said ok. I have to admit, the sex was good. Your dick was like…the perfect size, and it didn’t hurt, and I was like “fuck yeah, I’m having Cheerios for breakfast.” The cool thing was how many times you would say, “Oh shit!” “Oh Shit!” in the throws of ecstacy. I really enjoyed your sexy profanity.

Mr. “You remind me of an ex.” I slept with this metal drummer once and he had this cocky attitude and would blatantly be open and unusually candid about sex. The cockiness factor I think was due to a few too many lines of cocaine…but he seemed to stop at the point where it made him cool, not agro.  So this guy comes in. He huddles around a table of girls. I whip out my cel phone one of the girls HITS me like “oh hey  Bambi this guy is staring at you, get the fuck over there.” So I talked to him.

He left for a little bit to check out a place across the way. He said he would be back.

Two minutes later he’s back. He’s standing at the bar and I’m a few feet away…and another girl does the nod, indicating that I should go in to make my move.

He reminds me of an ex. Same blue eyes…similar facial structure, similar smile…he smoked cigarettes also so the gravel in his voice was all eerily similar, as was his accent as they were both from the midwest.  Like my metal drumer Ex, Mr. Reminder man was super candid:

You are by far the the hottest girl here. “ he says.

As I walk, he says confidently, “you have a sweet ass.”

It’s like I’m transported back in time a couple years to my 18 year old illegal ID rendezvous with said drummer.

Once we get into the room, I have a feeling he will REALLY like it if I play some Black Sabbath. True to my intuition, he’s fucking stoked.

When we’re finished, he’s sitting on the floor (he’s buzzed drunk by now) and he says, “you even have pretty feet. If I come back here again, it will definitely be to see you. ”

 

“And good choice on the Black Sabbath.”

It’s been a while since I’ve read a magazine…

11 Aug

I thought maybe you would appreciate my whore-ish observations on a magazine lots of women read often…I however havent read the magazine in a while. That magazine is Cosmo.

Normally if I do read something, it’s a Lucky Mag (which is geared towards shoppers who like to scope out the newest fashion trends) or a magazine like O (Oprah Magazine…which has useful articles like…why it’s important to follow your intuition.)

I opened Cosmo however and noticed the following:

– The first four pages are cosmetics ads, and all of the ads now feature celebrities or superstars, who have all had rhinoplasties, chemical peels, etc. to defy their age. This won’t mage any regular teenage girl or 20 something feel better.

– The magazine is all about sex. They talk about your sex drive being in neutral like its a problem. What ever happened to having a hobby other than sex, like art, or something that might pay your bills?

– Nearly every short article was all about deciphering what your guy was thinking, or how to give better head, or how to get approval from a guy.

Which for me is weird, because after working here, I feel like 90% of guys who walk through the door all think I’m great. In fact, flipping through the mag made me realize that in a lot of ways, my confidence is more through the roof than it has ever been. Guys like me with my hair in a bun, a ponytail, or down. It doesn’t ever really have to be as perfect as you think.

As far as sex goes, most guys seem to get off just by looking at you, so if you wanna turn on a guy, the easiest way is to turn on the lights.

Guys run the gamut and are not a one sized fits all thing. Some prefer the direct approach, some prefer a little dance of conversation, and some guys will bite after 3 hours of completely ignoring them.

And for all of the fashion that magazines push, almost NONE of it is stuff that makes you look or feel good. In fact most of it is hideously unflattering and is not conducive to helping you get laid at all. The “fashion” you should be wearing is the dress that makes you say, “I look hot in this dress.” or the pants that you KNOW make your ass looks good. Use a mirror and your intuition…not a magazine.

I dunno…I just felt like every article in it was specifically designed to feed the insecurities of young women and get them to spend more money on stuff they don’t really need.

I wish it was more about how to better yourself from the neck up, rather than from the hips down.

 

Worlds Greatest Actress, right here.

6 Aug

Sooooooooooo….to keep all of you in the loop, I worked for a month straight last month, set some financial goals for myself, I surpassed those goals.

I was beyond burnt out, took just over a week off, and now I am back.

The month of work that happened was full of “adventure” I suppose…I disconnected myself from facebook hoping that it would lead to me being more focused at work, not being able to peer in on whatever I am “missing out on” back home.

It helped a lot: I made probably double what I planned to, and I was super proud of myself for earning a lot.

I had at least 42 clients during that month, and only ONE day where I didn’t have any bookings at all, which was (in part) due to my own laziness.

I am back at work today, and I have upped my earnings goal.

I set my goal last month at booking 500 bucks a day. Most days I made that happen. Today I thought to myself, “what if I booked 1000 a day…then I would actually take home a decent chunk of change.”

Honestly my day is a blur, except for my 2nd to last client…who’s name was Patrick. He’s a firefighter from the bay area. His dick looked suspicious (had a couple skin tags on it) so I inspected it for ages, and wanted to bring in a 2nd opinion…but I concluded since it would all be wrapped up in a condom, it would be fine.

He was a good looking guy, and at first we were just going to party in my room but when he saw the hot tub, he decided to book the extra funds necessary to make a hot tub party happen.

Walking from my room to the hot tub, he leaned in to try to kiss me, and I shook my head “no” as in, “no that’s not allowed.” but…again, he seemed so offended.

So we’re in the hot tub, and he’s muttering on and on about how turned on he is, and how he wants to fuck me, etc. (I’m trying to prolong sex as long as possible because my pussy hurts by this time of the night from too many clients.)

I’m midway through this long drawn out makeout session with him in a hot tub…and my internal dialogue is this:

“I am so bored right now.”

“So bored. Do you know how many girls would be in my exact position and would be turned on right now, and would consider this a fucking adventure?”

“This is no adventure…it is so….passe.”

“What would an adventure even look like to me right now? Having an orgy? Bondage?

Hmm…well I guess I am a good actress. I guess this is what it feels like to be completely numb to the whole experience.”

I paused for a while, trying to think of what a good adventure would be.

“Watching a movie on a couch with someone I care about. And great conversation. That would be a fun adventure right now.”

FUNNY, huh?

 

The Real Me is Pleased….

13 Jul

I was hesitant to write you all about it because I was afraid it wasn’t real.

Two guys came into the bar last week.
One was short with dark hair.
He was not my type at all.
He was striking up conversation with the also petite Sandra.
While this guy chatted with me briefly, it was clear that Sandra was the girl he wanted so I let it go.

Five minutes later, a green-eyed breeze walks in.
He spots me right as he walks up in the bar.
I see him walk around to the other side.
I glimpse at him through a small window where I can see him through a few faces.
He looks back at me.
He makes a beeline back to my side of the bar, and sits right next to me.

I like a guy who knows what he wants and goes for it.
My big sister had obviously had sex before.
She obviously tried to make him do a party with her again,
and he obviously regretted the last time he was here, and wasn’t about to blow that much money on her again.

So, he was all mine.
Strangely, he’s the other guy’s brother.
They look absolutely nothing alike.
Jan is tan with sandy blonde hair while his brother has short brown hair.
He has this look in his eyes and this sexiness about him that reminds me of my very first crush.

I never slept with my first crush.
But I will get to sleep with Jan.
He didn’t pay me a lot but I gave extra time to the clock.
This was by far some of the steamiest and wondrous sex I’d had in some time.
He knew we weren’t supposed to kiss.
Except I had the strongest urge ever to have his lips on mine and
I was pretty sure he felt the same way.

So I let myself go, and for once, I could say to myself that both the real me and my brothel self were getting what I wanted and needed.

Normally I would make a client shower off by himself,
but he said, “you’re joining me right?”
and the makeout fest and passion continued in the steam.

He said he was going to give me his number,
and that if I ever got into Reno, I could call him,
and we could hang out.

So I took his number in my little black book.

We continued talking for at least an hour afterwards outside the bar.
It turned out that this eye candy has a little more to offer.
If anything, he almost sounded like a catch.
The kind of catch where its freakish that he DOESN’T have a girlfriend.

He owns his own business.
He is going back to school to get his master’s degree.
Not because he needs it, but because it would be “good to have.”

He participates in a number of business organizations to aid in networking opportunities, to keep his business successful.
He lives by himself.
The only caveat is that he doesn’t really have “time” for a relationship.
He’s from Tahoe…where there are very few girls and as he said, “in Tahoe it isn’t your girl, its your turn.”

Maybe he’s disillusioned in a land of all too available women.
I texted him some.
He texted me some.
There was a few days of nothingness.
I Ignored it, thinking nothing would come of the situation.
Buuut….he texted me asking how things were.

He seems like he might drown himself in a lot of alcohol and underneath is a guy with more potential.

Blake however is a guy who drowned himself in another girl.
Sigh.

I didn’t give Jan my regular number.
He has my Ho phone number.
I figure for the amount of money I want to save,
and because I will be spending a whole lot of time here,
it might not be bad to have two separate lives.
Different phone,
different name,
different group of friends where one group has no knowledge of the other.

Frankly, I don’t think its fair to myself to deny opportunities for friendship here. I think I need a few decent friends for my sanity. I’ve avoided friendships before…but at this rate, I don’t feel very connected to people back home and here I can be friends with people without feeling like I have to hide anything. I like that a lot better.