In her thirties, overwhelmed with work and struggling with the debts she’d inherited from a gigolo loser she used to date, Sarma finally met a mega-rich, powerful man who liked her and could have solved her problems.
In response, she immediately found a fresh gigolo user, moved him into her place, ditched the stable, wealthy suitor, and wasted the next several years of her life on servicing the needs of the gigolo.
Finally, the gigolo dumped her. Guess what she did then?
Yes. Found a new gigolo loser.
The most fascinating part of the memoir is that none of this seems to have led Sarma to any insight. I’m 30% into the book, and I’m yet to see a single sentence where she’d recognize that ditching good men in favor of the trashiest loser bastards imaginable was something she kept doing with the dedication of a crazed woodpecker.
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