To each its own

Out of fear to be a virgin for the rest of his life, Michael decided to let his friends find a solution to his dilemma. Of course, friends opted for the most effective method to manhood: they took him to a whorehouse. Once there, Michael spotted among veterans in the oldest profession a gorgeous girl who had turned down other clients simply because they were not to come near her even with all the gold in the world. The girl made it known that in order to sleep with her you had to spend more than you would with any regular prostitute and on top of that she had to give the final okay. To Michael, money was no obstacle until, that is, the girl named her price: twice the amount of any other. All four of us prompted Michael to go for her. Michael hesitated, and not because of his financial resources. His argument was that he had to be the one who chose her and not the chosen one. The girl found him admirable, and called him coquettishly, lavishly biting her lips with insinuation. Michael decided that he had had enough humiliation for one night, got up with resolute fury and left. No, he didn’t go for her; instead, he went out the door of the bordello, down the stairs and out into the cold breeze-less night. By that time, one of us was talking to the cutie and advising her to leave that sort of life.
-I could find you a job in Banana Republic, I’m a supervisor there –said one.
-If you find me a job that gives me four-hundred dollars a night, then I don’t wanna hear.
Once outside, I confronted Michael.
-Man, there’s no need to get romantic with a hooker –I told him. –It’s impersonal.
But to Michael, the game was a whole different thing.
Yes, I think, different girls for different things. We can’t take home everything we find in our way. Some girls are just for luxury. No matter what, though, we seem to chase after misery. We love the ones that neglect us, and neglect the ones that love us.