Dear Rodney.
Dear Blondie.
Dear Sweet, Awkward 19 year old.
I think we are approaching this from slightly different realities. I can't assume to know what your reality looks like, but here's what is going on in mine.
If we met within these walls, in this dim lit thumping box of sweat and music, with the sticky carpets and the stage, when I look at you
All I see is money.
We aren't going to be lovers, we aren't going to exchange digits, or meet at any of the wonderful locations I'm sure this town can offer. We aren't even really going to be friends, (but I'll pretend to be interested in what you have to say, like a friend would.)
In short, there is no relationship. Its just part of the fantasy the club offers. It is not real. And after this dance, despite whatever wonderful adventures you have offered me, your face will lose clarity, and be gone by the time I shake the next hand.
I hope this helps clear things up for you.
Sincerely,
N
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