...in America capitalism is king because no man is

Tuesday 11/11/25

Unfucking real piece of work. I'm getting close to done. Each page goes an uncountable number of pages deep.

Tired for wasted years, more tired looking for what’s hard to believe exists and investing in it all the same. Saving up for the babysitter to go out on another date that’s bound to be bad. I half expect this girl who is nice and very put together and brings her AP homework and who has raised her rate a second time in the last year to say, “That’s capitalism, I learned all about it in econ, and in America capitalism is king because no man is,” but in a sweet voice like she’d expect me to do the same if it were reversed and she knows I’m the kind of person who wouldn’t want her to make less than her friends.

I used to like the snacks. Seemed too good to be true that they were free. Like can I really make a frozen pizza and eat these cookies and oh my God you have the double-stuffed chocolate ones! It wasn’t hard not being tired then. Felt grown up and like I made a difference while getting to eat things we didn’t have at home but not so much of them in a single evening that I wasn’t already looking forward to getting the call again.

But I feel the energy draining from my body just thinking about sitting in a restaurant across from a man with a soft chin I could live with if he had anything of substance to say and it wasn’t a token hour-long game of twenty questions with someone who I know won’t remember my name a week later.

“Who was that woman you had the shitty date with who you said you knew right away you wouldn’t be getting any from if you no matter how many times you went out with her?”

“Couldn’t have told you by the time I got home. At least it wasn’t a long drive.”

“She had that name like that singer…uh…what’s her name…”

“Oh, right. Belinda. Lame.”

And the people who already have all the people they’ll ever require who say, “You need to put yourself out there or you’re just locking yourself away,” like they’d have been standing at the bottom of the castle wall shouting Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, bitch, and have no more of a clue that it’s actually closer to both at the same time than you have a chance of getting them to understand that if you even had the energy to keep trying.