Dear Steve and Shirley,
I'm in the most trifling phase of my life, but it took the last incident to shake some sense into me. I was with the married guy that I deal with occasionally. He told me to stop by to get some money, so I went by his house while his wife was having dinner with her parents. I had my Lyft driver ride by the restaurant to make sure her car was still there.
I went in through the back door of the house, and he greeted me in his underwear. He took them off and told me I had to earn the money. I love stuff like that, so I told my Lyft driver not to wait for me. We had sex on the floor, and it was magnificent. He gave me $500 in cash, and I was headed out when we heard the garage door going up. The man pushed me out the back door so quickly that I could barely grab my purse. I was standing in total darkness in his backyard, but I made my way to the side of the house to call for a ride. My phone was dead, and I was stuck in the suburbs with no way to get a Lyft or call any of my friends to come get me.
After about 15 minutes of panicking, I rang the neighbor's doorbell. An older white lady answered, and she asked me if I was a prostitute. I told her that I was visiting a friend, but she was not home and my phone had died. She said she assumed I had been next door with the married man who always has pretty young girls coming in and out of the house. I was hurt but didn't react. She took my phone inside and plugged it in for me, but she made me stay outside.
When I got some juice in my phone, I saw that I didn't have any missed calls from him. It's been a week, and he hasn't even texted me. Should I keep trying to get an explanation from him, or was it my fault for trusting him?