http://www.cuntlet.com/depression-and-high-risk-behavior-a-losers-bet.html I am a massage parlor girl. Sat, 12 Nov 2011 04:02:18 +0000 hourly 1 http://www.cuntlet.com/depression-and-high-risk-behavior-a-losers-bet.html#comment-150 Hobbyist Sun, 02 Nov 2008 23:38:18 +0000 http://www.cuntlet.com/?p=29#comment-150 Second time you open up like this, Missy (you've touched on alcohol on your other site if memory serves). And second time no one dares comment. I can see why. What you shared is simply impossible to understand for anyone who hasn't been there. And for those who have, what is there to add? Thanks to the anonymity of the internets, I'll still try: I was depressed all my life. I was never diagnosed, so I never knew it. One day, a rather banal event for most people made me take a dive. I became severely depressed and suicidal. I took up drinking and sucking on guns. Don't know how I remained functional and kept it private. Eventually, and predictably, I fell ill. Almost bought it, then somehow crawled out of my hole (don't ask me how, or especially why)... And somehow, after years (like, seven) of physical and emotional misery, I stumbled into my first massage parlor. Answering the call of human touch I guess, while staying clear of any attachment. Customers are not always horny bastards too lame for a relationship. It can be self-destructive behavior, just like on the provider's end, you're very right about that. And a loser's game, no doubt. It was just a need I was not fully aware of for me. I didn't care about getting busted (a career-killer in my case) or catching something. Everytime I went, it was like the last thing I did before leaving this dump, you see. It felt like a religious experience and I'm forever grateful for the generosity of the women I got to meet in those dark places (maybe some of them knew). I left quite a few paychecks in those callous little hands and I don't regret a penny. Well, guess what? After about a year of persistent "mongering", the "severely" went away and I returned to my good old depressed self. I had more or less been accepted again by the human race. Depression never really goes away, and there's ups and downs. But massage IS therapy, I can testify to that. And the providers who take the risk to go a little further (whatever their reasons) do a lot more good than you know. I hope you can keep that in mind next time you're a little too hard on yourself or your sisters. If only society would get it and legalize your kind of "therapy" (how unlikely is that!), maybe women could be drawn to the profession for other reasons than greed and dire circumstances. (And my apologies to most of you, who probably find this shit unbelievably corny...) Second time you open up like this, Missy (you’ve touched on alcohol on your other site if memory serves). And second time no one dares comment. I can see why.
What you shared is simply impossible to understand for anyone who hasn’t been there. And for those who have, what is there to add?
Thanks to the anonymity of the internets, I’ll still try:
I was depressed all my life. I was never diagnosed, so I never knew it.
One day, a rather banal event for most people made me take a dive. I became severely depressed and suicidal. I took up drinking and sucking on guns. Don’t know how I remained functional and kept it private.
Eventually, and predictably, I fell ill. Almost bought it, then somehow crawled out of my hole (don’t ask me how, or especially why)…
And somehow, after years (like, seven) of physical and emotional misery, I stumbled into my first massage parlor. Answering the call of human touch I guess, while staying clear of any attachment.
Customers are not always horny bastards too lame for a relationship. It can be self-destructive behavior, just like on the provider’s end, you’re very right about that. And a loser’s game, no doubt. It was just a need I was not fully aware of for me.
I didn’t care about getting busted (a career-killer in my case) or catching something. Everytime I went, it was like the last thing I did before leaving this dump, you see. It felt like a religious experience and I’m forever grateful for the generosity of the women I got to meet in those dark places (maybe some of them knew). I left quite a few paychecks in those callous little hands and I don’t regret a penny.
Well, guess what? After about a year of persistent “mongering”, the “severely” went away and I returned to my good old depressed self. I had more or less been accepted again by the human race.
Depression never really goes away, and there’s ups and downs. But massage IS therapy, I can testify to that. And the providers who take the risk to go a little further (whatever their reasons) do a lot more good than you know.
I hope you can keep that in mind next time you’re a little too hard on yourself or your sisters. If only society would get it and legalize your kind of “therapy” (how unlikely is that!), maybe women could be drawn to the profession for other reasons than greed and dire circumstances.
(And my apologies to most of you, who probably find this shit unbelievably corny…)

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