You shouldn't marry a car saleswoman.

Everyone says you shouldn't marry a woman who sells houses or cars, and there must be a reason.

I'm in 022 (city name), and I accompanied a friend to a Mini 4S dealership. I met a saleswoman named YY there. We chatted, and I learned she was 30, divorced, and married.

I'll skip the details of our chat and flirting on WeChat; it was all the same routine, except these car saleswomen are really good at talking—they can talk about anything. I was just casually looking at cars, not planning to buy anything. After adding each other on WeChat, we chatted for two or three months. I actually had a girlfriend at the time, but I told her I didn't and wanted her to be my girlfriend. She said we needed to discuss it in detail, so I arranged everything perfectly. After eating at Haidilao (a famous hot pot restaurant), we went to a karaoke bar. After a few beers, I felt a connection and tentatively kissed her. I thought if she refused, we could just break up, pay the bill, and go home. But she put her tongue in my mouth—she was so proactive! We had sex in the bathroom of the private room. Because I was so nervous, I ejaculated prematurely, and it all went in.

She said she had just finished her period and it was fine. We went to a love hotel after paying the bill. I've always liked round beds, especially the big mirror above them. We took a bath together, had sex in the tub, dried ourselves off, and continued. That night, including the karaoke, we did it four times—orgasm, whatever felt good. This kind of woman is more adventurous than a prostitute; you don't get this much service from a prostitute. That night, besides not mentioning boyfriends or girlfriends, I actually made up a lot of excuses to run away. Maybe she needed to release her pent-up emotions too, she probably did. The next day we went our separate ways and never contacted each other again. Or rather, I haven't proactively texted her since, and she probably understands what that means.
It sounds like a diary entry, but it's a true story. I'm not good at writing stories, and I don't remember many of the details clearly. Not long ago, I went to a mini-hotel and learned that she had quit a long time ago.

[The End]

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You shouldn't marry a car saleswoman.

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