Financier Dares You To Bring A Woman Back To His "Trophy Pad" And Not Get Laid

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Over the holiday weekend, the Post ran an article about New York men who use their "luxury apartments to attract the ladies," in which several dudes were interviewed about their abodes' abilities to get them laid. One of them was well-known comedian Jim Norton, who was obviously fucking with the paper when he said stuff like:

"Women see windows — and skirts come off. This one businesswoman, she came over, and she said she was ‘not like the other girls,’ ” he recalls of the guest, who announced that she did not sleep with men on the first date. “Well, fast-forward an hour after seeing the apartment, and not only was she like the other girls, she was worse. They like the view...I remember another woman . . . I knew she was impressed with the place and decided to sleep with me. I gave a horrible [sexual] performance. She walked around the apartment a couple of times before she left — almost reminding herself that this is why she just put herself through that.”

Then there was "financier" John, who clearly took this seriously and while flexing in front of the mirror, told the reporter:

“In New York, when you say porn, more people are likely to think you mean real estate,” says John, a multimillionaire financier who asked that his real name not be used. “Every two-bit banker at Goldman Sachs can buy you an expensive dinner or have a $175,000 Ferrari, but how many can have the $10 million trophy pad?”

Putting the call on speaker so he could use both hands to get in some Shake Weight time, John went on:

John frequently lets his friends borrow his 5,000-square-foot Upper East Side apartment so they can bring home the ladies while he’s away on business. After letting a London hedge-funder borrow his flat for a few days, the financier reported that his friend was able to score every night with three women (though not at the same time). “He told me: ‘They were excited when they got to the door — and when they saw the view, it was a done deal.’ ”

[NYP]

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What would posses a person to do an as-told-to article about the fact that after "failing miserably" at trying to pick up women in bars while working late for a "big name investment bank in New York," he turned to a "sugar daddy dating site" to bang hookers on his nights away from the wife and kids only to fall for one who ultimately broke his heart, because she was a prostitute and didn't actually care about him? The answer, quite, obviously, is love. Love, and a hope that a certain someone will see your story and upon reading that you're completely and totally over her and beating off call girls with a stick, COME RUNNING BACK. I met a girl who said she was a senior at Columbia University. She was so hot. Long brown hair, light eyes, perfect little body. We started an affair and I would give her a $4,000 "allowance" each month to meet once a week for dinner, or just to sleep together if I had a deal or a really late night in the office. Sometimes it was an hour of "small talk and sex," which, really, isn't a bad deal for her. $1,000 for an hour to spend time with me. I felt like a stud, there's no denying that, and I knew that she didn't want anything from me but money. She would come and go away when I made the signal I was tired. Soon though, I started liking her more than I wanted to. She was smart and kind of had a sarcastic sense of humor I found funny. I asked to see her more and she asked for more money. I said I couldn't do any more than that, and she said she couldn't give more time. It was the first time I felt a little hurt, like: "This person just wants my money and probably thinks I'm some gross horny old dude." The next month, I gave her the envelope of $4,000 upfront instead of $1,000 each time. We had sex, chatted, drank some wine and she left. I never saw her again. She wouldn't pick up her phone, then her phone was disconnected, my emails to her went unanswered, and her profile on the site was gone. It was such a blow. Though, really, what the hell did I expect? I guess some warning. Yes, some warning would have been nice but whatever. It's not like you're still upset about it. It's not like there isn't a moment of the day when she's not on your mind. It's not like you lie in bed at night thinking about her holding you. No, no sweat off your sack, which you use to bang hookers six at a time now that whatshername is out of the picture. Working girls line the street to get paid to have sex with you! You don't even have time to respond to all their propositions! The Jiltee has become the jilter! You can't even remember [theloveofyourlife]'s name you're so busy plowing prosties. After that, I decided I was going to go for quantity and not quality. I want hot girls, but a lot of them and substance isn't a huge deal. I have been with dozens of girls, and I give them money each time I meet them. The funny thing is often these girls are chasing me to sleep with them again, because it's easy money, but I just scroll through and delete or ignore the messages most of the time. Men want to be with a lot of women; it is just the truth...Maybe that first girl was a wake-up call. I'm already married. I don't need a steady mistress. But I have one or two I always go back to if I can't find someone I like, which happens a lot....I'm not hurting anyone by doing this. I'm always safe and upfront if I meet someone and know it won't happen. I just pay for the drink and let them know and leave, like "No deal, sorry." It is just like any deal. You have to know how to close it and have to know when you're not interested in putting in the effort to see it through. Why This Married Wall Street Banker Pays For Sex [Buzzfeed]