My price is one ruble per hour. So decided my neighbors in the block in the hostel. The girls hung a piece of paper on the door to my room, which suggested how much I take in an hour of sex.
My cheeks were burning with shame, my heart almost pierced my chest - it pounded so hard in the first seconds of my reading the note. I was terribly offended then. No, not that I was so low.
At that time I had a young man who lived in a nearby hostel. He often visited me. We had sex (what else?). And the neighbors announced me a boycott.
Although my personal life is not louder than theirs ... say, laughter or the sound of water while washing dishes. That is, their personal comfort and, in general, I did not violate rights, did not threaten life.
And honestly, at one time I allowed myself to think that I myself had provoked the appearance of a caustic note in my address. But it did not last long. My resentment gradually disappeared, leaving room for reflection: why were the girls from the next room so insulted? Well, I just can’t admit my guilt - I don’t feel it and that's it.
Then I called home for my parents and shared my feelings with them. Dad advised me to hang the following lines from B. Electrician Grebenshchikov on the door:
"But women are those that could be like sisters, -
Paint with poison the working plane of the nails,
And in everything that moves, they see rivals,
Although they assure that they see bl ** her. "
And I hung up. And the atmosphere in the block with aggressively suffocating flowed smoothly into the indifferently passive. So the girls were reconciled with the fact that I have a personal life, and at the same time I plunged into myself.
And every time I involuntarily stopped at my door and reread Grebenshchikov’s words. And I was surprised how the incident, thanks to several lines from the song, turned into other meanings; the focus of attention shifted from me to the neighbors.
It turned out that it was not me - a girl of easy virtue, and the girls lacked, perhaps, high-quality sex, the attention of men, or just attention. A note turned out their complexes, fears and true desires. Because a person — satisfied, satisfied — does not have time to concentrate on anyone's life, except for his own.
And the truth is, how important it is to look into yourself and reflect on everything that causes you to wrinkle your brow at the sight of a work colleague; hang stinging notes on the door of the neighbor; give unpleasant labels to those who dare to live in favor of personal preferences.