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It's genuinely sad how cruel the world can be, some guys are just doomed to never get a single scrap of female attention. Like, they're so lonely and desperate that their standards for human contact have plummeted to absolute zero. I'm not even talking about sex; no, these guys would probably hand over $10 just to touch... like, my arm. And the hilarious part is, they'd try to justify it to themselves. "You know what," they'd say, staring at their shoes, "it's only ten dollars. You're beautiful... and I'll probably never have another chance to touch a girl as good-looking as you." As if that makes it less pathetic! It’s just skin! lol It's wild to think about the pricing scale, honestly. An arm is like the bargain bin of human contact for them. But what about my stomach? That's premium real estate. They'd probably start sweating just thinking about it. A simple touch there, just to glide their loser hands over my perfect stomach... $50. Easy. And if I ever offered to let one actually *lick* my stomach? Oh my god, we're talking a different tax bracket entirely. Their minds would short-circuit at the very idea. The bidding war between lonely wallets would be hilarious to watch, I bet one of them would gladly fork over $300 for that. They'd convince themselves it was an experience of a lifetime, all while knowing they're paying just to taste the salt on the skin of a girl who wouldn't look at them twice. And of course, there are limits. Let's be real. My arm, my stomach... these are safe zones. It's pathetic and weird, but it's not like, sexual, you know? But my ass? My tits? Absolutely not. That kind of access is reserved for men who are actually worth my time, men who don't have to pay for the privilege of basic human touch. You get the PG-13 tour at best! It's funny to think about, though; some of them would probably mortgage their entire life savings for one grope, convinced they've finally made it. But no, sorry boys, that fantasy stays locked up tight while you're over there paying your rent money just to press your face against my midriff like it's some holy relic. The hierarchy is real, and you're at the very, very bottom of it.