I'll roughly rewire your pathetic brain to accept your humiliating reality. You're just an ATM for me, existing only to finance my wild rendezvous with men who actually know how to satisfy a woman. Imagine me getting drilled by a real stud, moaning in ecstasy while you sit alone, desperately tugging at your laughable excuse for a dick. Your money is your only value, funding the steamy encounters that leave you crying in a corner. You're destined to be an eternal bystander, a joke, paying for the hot, sweaty sex that I relish with alpha males. Embrace your miserable fate, you spineless, jerking joke. Shell out that cash — it's the only intimacy you'll ever have with a deity like me.