Two weeks offshore. Cold metal. Gray waves. Your world shrinks to steel corridors and radio chatter. I know this rhythm too well. Aberdeen boys understand. We work hard. We spend harder.
Last trip was tough. Crew getting on my nerves. Everyone tense. Some lads drink. Me. I save my release for when I'm back on solid ground. Always book Sarah when I land. She knows me now. Not just a transaction.
Isolation does weird things. Makes you hungry for human contact. Not just sex. Though that matters. But touch. Someone looking at you like you're real. Not just another oil worker they can replace next rotation.
Sarah's different. Polish girl. Sharp eyes. Always asks about my week. Listens different from my ex wife ever did. Weird how paying someone can feel more genuine sometimes. More connection.
Offshore life breaks you down. Builds you different. I know my pattern. Work. Isolation. Release. Repeat. Not proud. Just honest. This is how we survive up here in Aberdeen. Cold place. Hard place.