For What It’s Worth (Lucky 13)… (1-13) – Commentary

For What It’s Worth (Lucky 13) is me catching myself in that very specific headspace:

overstimulated, too online,

half horny, half philosophical,

and fully annoyed with the marketplace.

On the surface, it’s:

  • me scrolling classifieds,
  • watching everyone posture and scam,
  • and ending the piece right when it sounds like I’m about to fix everything.

Underneath, it’s about:

  • value,
  • scarcity,
  • and the quiet fear that maybe none of this is actually leading to real connection.

“People cannot comprehend people’s worth in this lifestyle.”

That opening line is the thesis.

I’m pointing at a kink ecosystem where:

  • everyone is theoretically “special,”
  • everyone is theoretically “rare,”
  • and none of it feels rare at all when it’s wrapped in the same recycled patterns of:
    • bait ads,
    • half-truth profiles,
    • time-wasting chats,
    • and fantasy scripts you’ve seen a hundred times.

“When you have, seemingly, a lot of something, it devalues the whole thing – even if the lot of it isn’t at all equal.”

That’s me saying:

  • the supply of “subs,” “Doms,” “Masters,” “slaves,” etc. online feels infinite,
  • but the actual humans behind those labels are wildly different in depth, capacity, and intent.

The problem: the more we see the labels spammed, the cheaper they look.

Even when the people aren’t cheap at all.

The “delirious” decision to be social

This line:

“I’m having one of those delirious phases where I feel sociable enough to try to form something meaningful…”

is me clowning on myself a little.

I know the game:

  • I’ve been around long enough to know how often it ends in:
    • ghosting,
    • weird vibes,
    • bad faith,
    • or nothing.

And yet I still get those moments of:

“Okay, fine, I’ll try again. Maybe this time someone actually meets me.”

The “stupid me” bit is half-joke, half-armor:

  • it lets me vent about the disappointment,
  • without pretending I’m above wanting connection.

I’m frustrated and I still care.

Both are true.

Second-hand encounters & wasted time

“I’ve been having sporadic, second-hand encounters by way of people’s personal ads…”

This is me admitting:

  • most of my “contact” with people that day was reading, not engaging.

Like:

  • doomscrolling profiles,
  • scanning for sincerity,
  • watching patterns repeat.

Then the punch:

“If I had spent this time talking to someone one-on-one… it’s disheartening.”

That’s naming a very online, very modern ache:

  • I could have actually connected with a real person.
  • Instead I used my emotional energy observing the circus.

It’s not just shade at “them”; it’s also a self-drag:

I chose to watch the marketplace instead of risk having a real conversation.

That’s a choice. A familiar one.

“Swindling” isn’t the real problem

I list:

  • manipulation,
  • swindling,
  • wasting time,

and then undercut it with:

“Yet, I believe, that is not the REAL issue at hand.”

That’s the pivot.

The complaint isn’t really:

  • “Everyone sucks.”

It’s:

“Most of us have no idea what we’re doing.”

Which leads to the hardest line in the piece:

Nobody knows what they really want, has any clue how to obtain it, or any room to be told otherwise.

That’s the real curse.

Not just bad actors.

But:

  • confused people,
  • chasing impulses,
  • defending their desires like brands,
  • and bristling the second anyone suggests another angle.

It’s not a moral judgment; it’s a diagnosis.

The bait-and-switch promise

Then I pull this move:

“I have utter confidence that I can explain, in vivid detail, how you can discover what you want…”

and immediately slam on the brakes:

“Well, that seems like a good place to stop.

Oh. You thought there was going to be more?”

That’s intentional.

It’s a mock infomercial cut:

  • I offer the fantasy of a clean solution,
  • then refuse to hand one over in a neat 5-step list.

Because:

  • if it were that easy,
  • we wouldn’t be in this mess.

And yes, it’s also me being a tease:

  • intellectually,
  • emotionally,
  • erotically.

I start pulling you toward:

“Here’s how you figure out what you want,”

and instead leave you with:

“Notice how badly you just wanted someone to tell you who you are.”

That’s the actual homework.

The “How’s My Driving” sign

“[Check my ‘How’s My Driving’ sign on this one.]”

That line turns the whole piece into:

  • a shitpost,
  • a feedback form,
  • and a mirror.

It says:

  • “If this annoyed you, good — sit with why.”
  • “If this turned you on, good — sit with that too.”
  • “If it went over your head, also good — you just learned something about where you’re at.”

It’s tongue-in-cheek, but it’s also stress-testing how people respond when:

  • their confusion is named,
  • their wants are challenged,
  • and the promised “answer” never arrives.

This post is bait.

If you feel attacked, you might be the target.

If you feel seen, you’re probably the audience.

Cycle I – Coming on Strong · 13 · Commentary (v1.00)

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