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I fell for the cute guy busking on the street corner. Every time I listened to one song, I’d tip him a dollar. As it became a habit, I’d send him money even when I didn’t go. He’d send me private audio clips of his singing. “Here you go, beautiful.” I thought to myself, this puppy’s taking the bait. Until that day, when I overheard three handsome guys at my music store. “You still haven’t sealed the deal with that dollar-tipping cougar?” “The bet ends in three days. Loser pays five grand!” “Screw off. That old lady? I could have her eating out of my hand in no time.” That’s when I realized they had a bet going about me. Later, I made a bet of my own. I wagered I could sleep with all three of them within a month.

0 After my divorce, I developed a new hobby - keeping toy boys. Of course, not actual toy boys. I mean the kind that are handsome, docile, naive, and a bit stupid. So I moved my music store next to the local college. Ready to catch one on the spot. I already had someone in mind. It was this cute busker I’d been crushing on lately. He was tall and slim, sitting cross-legged on the ground with his guitar, barely looking up as he played, yet still drawing crowds of girls. The first time we met, I tossed him a coin to make him look up. Deep brown curls, long lashes, deep voice - super hot. “Carrying around dollar coins these days? You’re quite the character, miss,” he said. He flipped the coin with his thumb, and it landed right in my… well, let’s just say it went down my shirt. Embarrassingly, my neckline was rather low that day, so it went straight in. The hottie jumped up in a panic. “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to do that!” I looked down at myself, then back at him. “Well, looks like you won’t be getting that dollar back anytime soon.” His cheeks turned bright red. I sent him a dollar via PayPal. That night I got a SnapChat friend request. His name was Lucas, a music student at the college. Not many gym selfies on his profile, and no photos with female friends. Seemed pretty innocent. After that, I’d make sure to pass by his corner every day after work. Each time I’d listen to one song and tip him a dollar. Lucas asked why I always tipped exactly a dollar. I said it was because he sang love songs. “Don’t you know why I sing love songs?” he asked. I knew, but I didn’t say. Ever since adding me on SnapChat, he’d been posting shirtless pics almost daily. “Because they’re popular?” I suggested. He responded with silence. As time went on, I gradually stopped going to see him perform, but I’d still send him money even when I didn’t go. That dollar was my emotional anchor for him. Lucas would send me private audio clips of his singing. “Here you go, beautiful.” “Sounds great.” “I thought you’d gotten bored of me.” “Just been busy.” “You used to come by all the time last month.” “Things change.” The push and pull of adult flirtation needs no explanation. One day, I deliberately “forgot” to send him money. Lucas waited all night, then lost it and got angry. “You’re just bored of me!” He angrily refunded all the money I’d sent him. Two months, about $60 total. What an idiot, letting me play him for so long. I hadn’t spent a cent.

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