Money doesn’t make you happy. It makes you pretty.

A couple days before I hung out with Sergeant on Saturday, I saw Goldman for a couple of hours. We drove around in his porsche. My curly locks flying out the window and his dark eyes melting into mine. You know that vulnerability you feel in your stomach when someone’s eyes make you feel like smiling? That.

We got brunch at Boat Street Kitchen, and he said he had a surprise for me. The first time he met me he said “don’t expect me to take you shopping. I’ll give you money, but fuck. I hate shopping.” I’m not a fan of shopping (ok, maybe online) at a store. But, Goldman broke his rule. He took me shopping. Records, comic books, and the sexiest leather dress from American Apparel for our dancing date in the near future… which I’ve been working my ass out for. Literally working out my ass. Squats for days.

He gave me a long kiss goodbye, and went back to work. I know when someone likes me if they want to see me during the day, doing normal people stuff, AND sober. Wow.

Ok, now I’m going to do something weird. I’m going to write about ANOTHER Goldman date in the SAME post. I’m feelin’ saucy.

Sunday night, on the day of our lord Jesus Christ, Goldman and I got high. THIS IS GRAPHIC, STOP READING. We got a hotel room, smoked weed in it, and made sweet love (fucking) all over it. I love the touch of another’s skin when I’m stoned. I really enjoy that he can be such an established business man and be so normal at the same time. After a couple rounds of sex (sorry I make it sound like a sport?) we got Dick’s hamburgers, and he even got a shake for my roommate. We both decided that we should go on some less ritzy, casual/divey places, to make the ritzy places seem special.

Sergeant told me I was too black and white as far as the lines between an arrangement and a relationship, and he expected our arrangement to turn into a relationship and to see me more often. Pfft, not for only $1,000 a month. I wanted to tell him, “you can’t afford me.” but I just ended it. I cross the line at saggy balls more than once a week. I think I will be fine with $2,000 a month from Goldman. At least until summer.

Maybe, JUST maybe, I’ll post a picture of me in my dancin’ dress on Friday.

Cheers, dears.