Well, you could try being a mature human being who keeps herself productive and positive through brief bouts of loneliness and frustration, utilizing her astonishing power of self-control and uncanny ability to think with something other than her cunt. But I’m guessing that telling you to be a grown-ass woman would be as pointless as asking Willem Dafoe to not look creepy; adulting just isn’t in your wheelhouse.
Going the other direction, there’s no real reason you can’t put on something slutty, liberally douse yourself in bourbon until every aspiring date-rapist in the county can smell you, and then spend your evening leaning unsteadily against the dumpster outside a dive bar. Your master couldn’t really complain much; if he’s gonna leave an idiot tramp alone to solve her own sexually inept problems, he’s gotta expect to come home to a new STD now and then.
But if you’re anything like most of my girls, in the end, you’re too lazy and unmotivated to bother. We both know you’ll just end up in bed by yourself, rubbing your clit to posts like this, knowing that you’re neither half the woman nor half the whore your should be. Brava!