Hey folks! I've always wanted to be a comedian, and thought I'd share a bit of the material I've written here to see if it gets any laughs.
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My name is TravelingGentleman, but my friends call me damaged goods. Or at least, I like to imagine what it would be like to have friends, and that's probably what they would call me. My imaginary friends are dicks.
My only female friend is an escort who told me she doesn't want to see me anymore because I'm not emotionally available. Well, I should say "was" my friend because she won't see me anymore. If you're not familiar with the term, escort is a nice way of saying hooker. And I wasn't even paying her for sex! I was paying her to be my therapist, but instead of sitting in an office on a couch, I was paying her to let me buy her dinner and drinks and let me whine about how lonely I was.
She even offered me sex for free - probably to get me to stop whining - but I have this romantic notion of sex being the pinnacle of an emotional bond between two people, not a commodity that you shop for by browsing on Amazon. And that's literally where I found her too. At the escort version of Amazon.
Oh yes - there are websites dedicated to men and women who want to buy and sell sex like a commodity. And I went to one of these, looking for a woman who would let me pay her by the hour to let me take her to nice restaurants so I could pretend that I wasn't a lonely, sad middle aged man for a couple of hours.
I'm amazed at how many escorts won't do social engagements. They'll give strangers a full access pass to their vagina and mouth, and for a $300 upcharge, let you do butt stuff, or "Greek" as they call it in the industry and clock in 10 dicks a day like a working stiff, but dinner, drinks, and a good conversation are off limits!
What kind of damaged goods do you have to be when a woman who will spread her legs for for strangers by the hour doesn't want to see you anymore because you're using her like a therapist instead of a hooker?
Can you imagine going to see your therapist, and they're like, "Look, I don't want your money, I just don't want you as a client anymore." Oh my God, it was mortifying.
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Anyway, that would be my five minute set at an open mic night if I were to ever get up the nerve to try it. I figured the audience here might get a chuckle.
I'm open to critiques.