I think my point really is that the number of people who are available to date hasn’t really gone down because the industry exists. Now you may not want to date someone in the industry, and that’s totally fine, but anon doesn’t even have anyone yet and is complaining about a purely theoretical problem as if it’s a real one.
One trick is to tell stories that don’t go anywhere. Like the time I caught the ferry to Shelbyville? I needed a new heel for m’shoe. So I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. “Gimme five bees for a quarter,” you’d say. Now where were we? Oh, yeah. The important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn’t have any white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones…
It has decreased my dating pool by exactly 1. My ex started doing porn and I decided I couldn’t go back.
Best thing to ever happen to me. No drunk texts and no forgetting why we split up.
No hate on people who date others in porn. It’s just not for me.
But the unstable relationships and alcohol abuse worked for ya. Got it. Good for her.
wtf did I just read?
I think my point really is that the number of people who are available to date hasn’t really gone down because the industry exists. Now you may not want to date someone in the industry, and that’s totally fine, but anon doesn’t even have anyone yet and is complaining about a purely theoretical problem as if it’s a real one.
No, they have bigger issues.
I know. However, you said something that made my train of thought pull into a particular station. So you got a useless story because that’s what I do.
And I agree with everything you said.
One trick is to tell stories that don’t go anywhere. Like the time I caught the ferry to Shelbyville? I needed a new heel for m’shoe. So I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. “Gimme five bees for a quarter,” you’d say. Now where were we? Oh, yeah. The important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn’t have any white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones…
I see that as a win win