Beginning of the EndCategory: General   Jul 18th 2015  06:00PM   0

I booked a 72 hour date for this weekend that I ended early, after 24 hours. The situation did not meet my standards and my every effort to change or improve it failed. I left because I value my self-respect, and if I intend to keep it I had no choice. 

My date, I'll call him Sam, was in complete denial about the situation, even after I told him what I found so unacceptable. When I tried to explain more clearly, he simply refused to discuss it at all (as people in denial tend to do). Most people have blind spots about their bad habits and character flaws. But when I'm traveling with a client, his blind spots and misbehaviors affect the success of our date &/or ongoing relationship, so I'm often forced to point them out. I tend to do so in gentle, subtle, compassionate ways (after all, I have my blind spots too, so I know how being called out can feel). Most men pick up on my cues immediately and adjust accordingly. It's very rarely an issue and every couple faces such minor trifles now and then. Some men take longer to see the truth of their inconsiderations or accidental callousness (or whatever) and I've actually had a few face offs over the years (followed up by apologies from the offending gents and appreciation for helping them to be better men). 

I've known Sam for years. He's smart and funny and we have a great rapport and physical chemistry. We were colleagues back in the aughts, and he did a favor for me once, a minor thing from his perspective but something that meant a lot to me at the time, and helped me out of a serious jam on short notice. We struck up an arrangement in 2009, during which we went on 3 other trips together. He had the same bad habits back then, but I was less assertive or able to state my needs and viewpoints. I did try and we muddled through, but it was always a little stressful, the way I had to stay hypervigilant of every single moment of our dates and travels, just to ensure he didn't compromise me or my needs in some small (or big) way. (He often kept me up too late or insisted on subpar restaurants and hotels.) As soon as I went pro, in 2010, I was instantly out of his price range. I haven't seen him since, but agreed to recently. I'd just taken a lot of time off for surgery and was eager to get back to work. 

My rates my haven't increased lately but my standards never stop, so I'd hoped Sam had grown up a bit as well. Honestly, though, I think he's regressed. 

I told myself 5 years ago when I started this companionship journey, that I would do things my way or not at all. That I would starve to death before I allowed a client to make me feel like a piece of meat, a mere "provider." An object. An employee. I am no man's employee. I am his date. Someone to flirt with, seduce, charm, and otherwise win over ... someone to woo. It doesn't take much, for god's sake. Be a nice guy, really ... that's the bulk of it. How freaking hard is that?

Be fat, old, ugly, and awkward; I DON'T CARE. Be thoughtful and nice, read my website and pay my fee, and you will get your needs met thoroughly and then some. It's not rocket science. Women aren't Coke dispensers. It takes more than coinage to enjoy the company of a living human being. 

Sam invited me on short notice to a hot (sweltering) beach during a less-than-ideal time of month (for me, hormonally speaking). I'd have to rise very early, pack ridiculously light, less than 4 weeks after major surgery (a time during which, while I'm outwardly healed, I'm still having to make small physical adjustments to treat the surgical area). I made Sam aware of ALL this. My menstrual cycle, my surgical issues, and a separate 7 yearlong lumbar spine issue (which is not that big a deal but do keep me from lugging around a backpack all day), my need for more than a backpack's worth of luggage (my skin care fills a backpack, for Pete's sake), my cancer prone fair/freckled skin, and my need for big hats and buckets of sunblock (I've spent more money lasering off sun damage this year than I was paid to go on this ridiculous trip). I was promised shade and relaxation plus an upgraded hotel that I specifically requested. In turn, Sam knew how much fun time we would spend together in either my or his room, as (in case I didn't mention), that part of our chemistry was always quite good. 

A few days before the trip, Sam made an off-color joke, breaking down my fee into a specific number of sex acts. It was pretty offensive but I ignored it. Surely he knows I'm not a prostitute. He's known me for 15 years, after all. He's read my website. He's paid for my time on at least half a dozen occasions. There is no way he meant that comment seriously, right??

When I say my fee is for my TIME, I mean it. That's not some line I use as legal protection. I believe it. I LIVE IT. My clients would tell you the same (and that they love it that way). If Sam didn't know that fact by now he wasn't the man I thought he was.

Well, he wasn't.

From the beginning, it was clear he considered me hired help. Don't get me wrong. He enjoyed my elevated company and conversation; he said so specifically. As far as Sam was concerned, he had a real coup: an upscale lady that he (thought he) could treat like a teenage Thai sex worker. None of my needs, from preferred food and consistent shelter to relaxed activities were addressed, despite my repeated requests and subtle (and not so subtle) hints. From our arrival at noonish to when he finally took me to the hotel at 5p, shade and relaxation were not to be found. By the time we got to the hotel where I could wash up and rest, I barely minded the lack of hot water or decent lighting (I'm serious about that; it was briefly frustrating but whatever ... that's a 4 star hotel in some areas of Mexico). 

The thing is, no woman should ever have to ask for a 7-11 "feminine product" run more than once. I had to ask 3 x's (and still never got them). I asked for EVERYTHING 3 x's, sometimes 4-5 x's, none of which was addressed if it wasn't convenient for Sam. And yet, after an incredibly full day that included everything one might hope for and expect from a quality professional companion (multiples, in fact), he chose the most inopportune time to demand MORE of the same, 3 hours later, when it was already past our bedtime AND my spine had finally given out for the day. We were both fully sexually satisfied. I was also exhausted and in real pain. And he's demanding more? We weren't even 24 hours into the trip yet. I was gobsmacked. 

I'm a professional companion and one of the best. Because I literally date for a living, I know how to create an amazing experience with and for a man. I am well-versed in everything a great date entails, from physical intimacy to emotional connection and intellectual stimulation. I create win-win situations on a daily basis. It's what I do. Would I be this successful if I didn't know what I was doing? 

I will be everything you need and more if you will just get out of your own way first.

All you need to do is pay the agreed upon fee and be a decent, thoughtful human being on our date. Pretty simple stuff (or so one would think). High school aged boys do it. Seriously, fumbly, horny, awkward 16 year old boys know better how to treat a woman they want to take to bed than this 62 year old worldly, experienced married man. Instead of hiring an hourly girl to fulfill his needs, he purposely invited someone WHO HE KNOWS does not work like that. But Sam felt entitled. He thinks that's what all paid companions are for. Not just the ones who actually do work that way, but ALL OF US, despite what our carefully, painstakingly worded websites say. Or what WE say ... to his FACE. 

Here's the worst part. It's not just Sam. It's a great many of them.

I've had a niche business for 5 years and it's getting nicher all the time. It's so damn niche at this point I'm barely earning what my time is worth. And that's why the end is near for me. The industry is imploding and I refuse to go down with it. 

Sam represents the client base for the sex industry at large, strippers and escorts especially. Immature, entitled asshats. It wasn't always this way. I worked in the most upscale strip clubs (truly, considered the best in the country at the time) off & on since age 18, during the best times in the business (80s & 90s) and through the worst (during the recession). The difference in experience is incalculable ... literally night and day, heaven and hell. Companions working before my entry to the business in 2010 speak of a time that sounds deliciously like 16th century Venice. Courtesans were revered and rightfully so. But these days the stigma is alive and well and worsening daily. 

It is my firm opinion that those who harbor issues with consensual sex work are unenlightened and small-minded. Idiots and peasants. They may as well think the world is flat for how much I respect their intelligence. They're less than human to me ... as women like me have always been to them. But I was naive when I first went pro, lulled into a false sense of security by my artsy liberal social circle in Austin ... writers, photographers, musicians and the like, who for the most part took my work in stride. But even the most enlightened man among them, a man who respected me and my work highly, cautioned me that no man wants a girlfriend who's spending time with other men like that ... a woman having sex with other men, whether or not it's integral (or peripheral) to her livelihood. I didn't want to believe him, but that was 4 years ago and I sure as hell do now. 

Since then, I've comforted myself with the knowledge I have adoring clients, but this experience with Sam in Mexico ... well, my eyes have been opened. He acts like that because most escorts let him. I'm losing respect for the lot of them, "providers" and clients both. The industry is going to hell, just like strip clubs did 6-7 years ago, and it won't bounce back in time to save me. 

I honestly don't know any other escort doing things the way I'm doing them. Every escort I know (or follow privately online) talks about her clients in an adversarial way. Sam is the only one I feel that way about and I will do everything in my power to ensure he is the last. Even if that means early retirement. Which I believe it does. 

It doesn't matter how differently I do things if I'm forever labeled under the same banner. I'm not a sex worker. You can't buy sex with me. You must buy my time and then use that time to earn sex with me. Sam, who's known me longer than any of my clients, both in and out of this profession, can't make the distinction. I fear the ones who can are being scared off.

Beyond the deluge of sleazy hourly providers with zero boundaries, at least a few prominent upscale escorts have recently transitioned to professional extortionists. Publicly blackmailing and slandering good men (clients of MINE!) and ruining their lives and reputations. It's repugnant and I'm helpless to stop it. I have no choice but to cut and run. I tried to elevate the industry. I've been told that I did in some ways. But it was too little too late, I guess. This ship is sinking, so I'm diving off and heading for shore. For the record, I am one hell of a swimmer. 

I'd planned to leave at age 50, in about 2.5 years. If this weekend's trip was any indication, it will be sooner than that.

 

 

 

 


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