"I Thought You Were Real!"

This is one of the most frequent manipulative tactics that occasionally lands in my DMs in response to an automated greeting featuring the price tag for my attention. The assumption is that, faced with accusations of being a digital mirage, I will immediately scramble to prove otherwise.

Ironically, just a split second earlier, this very Doubting Thomas fully believed he was writing to flesh and blood, having already managed to unfold the sheer breadth of his cuckold and ballbusting fantasies. Good boy, you've come to the right place. But entertaining that for free? That's a charity strictly reserved for your parents.

If you want to verify you're not dealing with a fake, just ask for proof. Everyone has their own standard for it. Or better yet, before you drop your virtual pants, do a little digging on exactly who your captivated audience is. Otherwise, you're the one looking highly suspect: are you just trying to dine and dash before the waiter brings the check?

The USSR has been dead for 35 years. Entire generations have grown up completely untouched by its bizarre dogmas, yet this pathetic entitlement to a free ride still lingers in some. Back in the dark, terrifying thickets of Soviet reality, there roamed dinosaurs who remembered entire social institutions built on free services. Because the specialists’ salaries were paid by that very same state that has since sunk into oblivion.

But that system came with its own caveat: the sheer desire to do as little work as possible, since the paycheck was the same regardless. Hence the miserable, scowling mugs that would greet a polite knock on the office door and a timid "May I come in?" with utter irritation.

Today, however, if you reach out to someone to employ their expertise, trust me, they are genuinely thrilled to see you. Because you are their bread and butter. God, how much they love you in that exact moment! But if you’ve shown up hoping to hustle a freebie with cheap parlor tricks... Cue the mental image of a bouncer tossing you out by the scruff of your neck. Preferably through a closed door.

"I hope you’re doing this to help people, not just to make money."

"Of course. After all, I'm fed by the gods. All of them combined: the Norse, the Egyptian, and a couple of the Abrahamic ones for good measure."

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