Once upon a time I was really good at haggling. Chalk it up to my asian-ness if you will, but I think a lot of it had to do with gauging the two levels of desire (buying and selling) and reconciling them at the least cost to myself. A process that involved feigning disinterest, being coy, and (sometimes) engaging in heated persuasion.
It's not unlike flirting, if you think about it.
Somewhere along the way I lost my taste for it, I suppose. Not because it was a cheap thrill, but because I learned that the only thing that mattered was my level of desire. How much I want something is not going to change based on how much it costs. I will pay however much it is.
And so I give myself away, too much and too fast, hoping that exposing the secrets behind my desires and losses will make me real to someone. But stripping myself of mystery doesn't mean anything when everyone only wants to imagine me naked.
Because they remain unconvinced of their own desire, protective as they are of their own forsaken hearts. And so there is nothing.