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I was never big on hobbies as a kid, my folks were pretty dirt poor, and when my dad died and mom ran off, was homeless. I had no money for anything, so I had to start back from scratch until I was able to say I make good money, rent a nice place, and had a really nice collection of stuff ranging from MPs TFs to figma to anything else that caught my eye.
So one former friend brought over a girl that he wanted to fuck to my place so he could show how much better he was to her even though he lived with his grandmother because his mother and step-dad kicked him out for being a fucking weirdo (I'm not joking, this is the reason, imagine a weeaboo that takes it too far to the point you worry that he's going to kill someone while pretending to be a samurai, that's this guy) so he had to do something to impress this chick, so seeing me as an easy target, he all of a sudden started looking around and made comments and insulting everything I worked so hard to get. It didn't bother me too much at first, but they just kept going on and on to the point where I just shut down and it felt like I was betrayed and felt just as bad as when I was on my own. I immediately cut ties with him and last I heard the girl from that day doesn't even talk to him and is out west fucking some black dude in Kentucky and his grandmother died and he's going from friend to friend living with them. Karma I guess.
I'm slowly getting back to buying stuff, little stuff right now like Transformers and the like, but that day still pisses me off cause I've never been betrayed in such an odd way before.
