A Horny Houseboy, a Polite Bastard, and the Sunset

Yet another sub slid into my DMs, desperate to scrub my floors (stark naked, obviously). Commendable, sure, but we need to chat first: letting a buck-naked stranger straight into my home is a rather dubious proposition.

"But I'll clean for free!"

"And I'll listen, for a fee, to exactly how you plan on doing it."

No, I’m not afraid this guy is going to rape me—their dicks are wired for something else entirely. What’s far more likely is that he’s a profoundly shitty cleaner. Often with these types, it’s: take your clothes off, grab a broom, and immediately blow your load just from the sheer thrill of it. And then who’s going to do the cleaning? The only way this works is a slow striptease, where he earns the right to take off a single sock only after scrubbing the toilet to a shine.

Another internet wanderer threw a tantrum, absolutely insisting that I was going to "ditch" him. Even if I had no intention of doing so... Well, why fight a person’s urge to feed their rejection trigger? People love to wallow; sometimes they’re even ready to kill anyone who dares to get in the way of their misery.

Yesterday, a polite bastard showed up. It’s a charming breed of guys who understand all too well that being an asshole comes at a high price. And if they ask for something outrageous and get shot down, they deftly maneuver from another angle. Good for them, it's clever—they don’t give you a single excuse to block them. A regular prick would have been told to go fuck himself instantly, but watching this one’s tricks was actually entertaining for a solid hour.

In the evening, I went down to the riverfront to walk with Pukh. The fading August sun flooded everything in a bright, brilliant light. A beautiful summer—thank you for shining on us.

Nelli Verkhovska PhD in Psychology For more on alternative relationships, check out my YouTube channel