How Smooth? So Smooooooth

     I was at a night club tonight for the first time in maybe a year (I was tricked, thought it was a pub) and this dude asked me what I did for a living. Normally I have my lie locked and loaded, but tonight he was just met with a blank stare. Then the allotted time passed where it’s appropriate to answer, and in the awkwardness I started laughing. 

    “I don’t want to talk about work.” I told him. Conversation over. 

A Post From Realme

     Realme here. Alison hasn’t been around much. I’ve just been thinking about this last year, reflecting on 2011. I have to be honest, I can’t wait until it’s over. 2010 was the best year of my life. It seemed to be the summer that went on forever. Fueled by a bucket list of ridiculous summer activities, and a friend who had a rubber arm I could twist into doing anything. 

    2011 seemed to be the year of heart break. I can’t say for sure that my job specifically ended any friendship, but it seemed to taint the waters. Loose lips sink ships. Gossip spread, lies told, judgments made. Like I say, it wasn’t all about my job, but some of it, yes. I guess some friendships weren’t meant to be, and sometimes it takes a test for people to show their true colours. 

  

  Sometimes I feel used. Like as a conversation piece. When I lived overseas I would be approached by strangers on a bus and they would ask me if I would be their friend because white people were such an anomaly. During a house party a while back, I had a friend beg me to let her tell her friends because it was interesting. And there was this one guy at the party who was a douche about it. I had no issue standing up to him, but I certainly didn’t appreciate it. He has been the only person I’ve told who has taken issue with it, but I don’t believe that is true. Maybe he was the only person who had the balls to say anything. I don’t believe that all of my friends are as cool with it as they say. I don’t believe that there isn’t any judgment. I would judge me. Especially not knowing what it’s really like. Even if I did know what it’s really like I would judge. It can be gross. It’s not always awesome. I wonder how many of my friends think less of me when they actually imagine what I do. 

  

  I was talking to Alex about my fear of being outted at University. Going through the whole process of making new friends, and building my little web of lies. Part of me is just hoping I can get through the whole thing with out making any friends at all.

    “You have real issues with trust, don’t you?” Alex asked me. 

    “Well it seems like every time I trust someone, I get burned,” The irony of his comment seemed to be lost on him. 

     It’s true though. I don’t end friendships when people out me to other friends, but each time I find out, my issue with trust tends to go a bit deeper. 

    

     Telling Mom I’m going back to school felt like the biggest weight off my shoulders. So many times I almost said, “Well when I go back to school...” Or something like that, but I’d stop myself in time remembering that it needed to be kept a secret from everyone until Christmas. When I told her, I thought, “I can finally stop lying to her.” Then I realised, “Nope, no I can’t.” It kills me lying to her. Responding to her prying questions with a “It’s good,” Then changing the subject. I never bring up work to her, never talk about my boss or co-workers, never go into detail about anything when she asks questions. I know she feels shut out, and it sucks. 

    Then there’s the romantic relationships. This fall, I feel like I finally got over the ex who truly broke my heart, the ex that never gets mentioned here. I finally got past it, but it was a long road. And then being told “You’re great, but I’m not comfortable with your job.” That has it’s on searing cut to it. I don’t know why, but so much I’d rather just be told that it was something specific, something personal. Like blaming my job is an easy out for them. I really believe it is. When I think of my heart these days, I can’t help but compare it to a peach that got forgotten in the back of the fridge. 

    I feel like my job has put a lock down on any relationship potential. I feel like nobody is going to date me as long as I have this job. I know I shouldn’t feel that way. Lots of girls at the agency are dating. I just don’t want to risk it though. I know it’s pathetic, but right now, my heart just can’t take another hit like that. 

     I’ve come up with a new dating strategy though. Actually, it’s not new, it may be the original. Are you ready? Here it is: 

     Step 1: Meet someone.

     Step 2: Get to know them.

     Step 3: Decide whether or not you want to date them.

     Step 4: Build a relationship.

     Step 5: Sleep with them.

     I know, I know! It sounds crazy. I usually do it in the reverse order, well... step 1, 5, 3, 2, 4 is how I tend to order things. Like I say, I’m going to try this new and revised plan, and see if it works, rather than just saying, “I’m off the market!” Cause the occasional person does want to date me! Occasionally. But I’ve been pretty closed off to the idea. So I don’t let them in. 

     I’m excited about 2012. I’m excited about having a life again. Not that I don’t have a life now, I actually keep quite busy, considering I don’t actually do much. But to start school, to have a routine again, I’m really looking forward to that. I’ll have new photos, they’ll be amazing. My goal is to work less, make more, focus on school and succeed. Hopefully that is not to ambitious. I’m really optimistic. I’m looking forward to being a step closer to not doing this job any more. 

Ethical Dilemma

    “I have an ethical dilemma,” I tell Alex over lunch.

    “I’m listening.”

    “Do I work even though I have a cold?”

    “That is your ethical dilemma?!?” He chokes out through laughter.

    “Yes!” I say defensively.

    “You’re a prostitute, and this is what you struggle with?” 

    “I’m an ethical prostitute!” I exclaim

    “Clearly!”

     I’ve taken three jobs in the last two weeks. The first week I was incredibly sick, sicker than I can ever remember being. But I’ve been feeling a lot better recently, able to attend Christmas festivities and whatnot, but still sleeping 12 hours a day, and often feeling run down. 

     I need to go back to work though! I can’t just lie in bed all the time. I just feel guilty working, knowing I have a cold. I’ve been booked on for most of the day, and I did get called out to one call, but I left because the guy was smoking crack. He was really nice about it though. Gave me $50 for my troubles. 

     I think I am going to book off now though. Reasoning being four-fold:

1: I feel like garbage

2: I look like garbage

3: I would like nothing more than to spend time with my family while they’re in town, so I’m heading over to Moms. 

4: It’s almost 7pm, and there have only had crack-faces call.  

Merry Christmas Johns and Sinners

     Sorry the posts have been thin lately, I've been sick as a dog. And even when I am healthy, I'm still rockin the horse gravely voice. Some say it's sexy, I say it's infectious. 

     I'm feeling better now, and up until Christmas I was debating working today, you know the middle part, after presents, before dinner. Double my rates, do one or two calls, make some big bucks. Turns out they've closed the office though. It was closed yesterday too. It's kind of nice having pressure free time off; not worrying about having my phone glued to my hip. 

     Our staff Christmas party was on the 22nd. Most of my friends said they would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that party, but truth be told, it wasn't too exciting at all. It was just at a restaurant. Dinner was served super late, because these girls really don't know how to live by any kind of schedule (myself included, hence this job). I would have to say the best part was around midnight once desert had been cleared we did the gift exchange. My family has always called it the Chinese Gift Exchange, but apparently that's racist, so I don't know what to call it. Point being, it was a $25 limit on the gifts and a big fight broke out over the rules, and who really got two of the gifts. I was sitting beside the girl fighting over gift card to Victoria Secret, and I whispered to her, 
     "Dude, it's $25! How much money do you make in a day? Let it go!!!" She chuckled, admitted that it was embarrassing, but didn't let it go. Classy Ladies!

     Well, that's all I have for you. Sorry there aren't more dirty stories... I did give my Mom my enrollment letter for university as her Christmas Present. She cried and said it was the best present ever. Good Work Realme! And thanks for paying for it Alison <3 

New Friend

     There’s someone new in my life. I’ve known her for about a year now, but she’s kind of skipped in and out of my life like a stone across the water. We’ve decided to be friends, and have had at least four failed attempts to hang out. We primarily text. But we text a lot. Things are promising. Her name is Taylor.

     I find making new friends difficult. Not the making of friends, but navigating the beginning stages of my job. I’m not one to live in the closet, and I don’t do well with secrets or lying. Aside from family (none of them know) everyone in my personal life knows what I do for a living. But there are always new people. I told Taylor my cover story when we first met, and it has never been discussed since. Part of me wonders if our mutual friend told her. Like I say, my job has never been discussed since. Not even for scheduling/figuring out hang out time. Almost like it’s been avoided. But, assuming she doesn’t know, when we start hanging out trust will have to be built before I come clean, and until then it will be lies, or avoidance. I feel bad about that. That’s not who I am. I think that this is the part of my job I get most frustrated about. 

    I was out with the girls tonight, and there were five of us. Three of the people there knew and the fourth didn’t, simply because I haven’t built any kind of personal relationship with her yet. But they talked about my job like everyone knew. They just assumed. Well, I guess she knows now. Oh well. And in their defense, she is the +1 of the other girl there, so she probably already knew. 

     I know my friends are not going to have an issue with my job. That’s why they’re my friends. Whether or not I’ve told them, I choose who I hang out with, and they’re cool people. But still, I get frustrated every time I’m outted. I know I need to get past it. I think if I friends-offed everyone who outted me I’d have no friends left. I know they don’t have any ill-intent by it, I just find it disrespectful. 

I'm Not a Fucking Homeless Person

     Mr. Texas has been promising to pay my tuition for a month now. I’ll smile and nod and wait. Finally I said bashfully, “When do you think we’ll be able to do that?” I don’t know how to ask for money! We agreed on last Monday, the 12th. It was his birthday and I said I would take him out for dinner, on my own time. This man has given me so much business, I figure it’s a nice way to say thanks. 

    I have the reservation booked, but that afternoon he cancels saying he’s been called out of town for work. Of course. So whatever. 

    He called me yesterday to let me know he’s back in town, and I try again for the dinner. Instead he wants me to go to his staff Christmas party with him that night. It was between 4 - 6 PM that night. 

    “Oh, really, oh, that sucks. I have dinner with my mom tonight. I was going to book our reservation for later, like last time. I just wouldn’t eat that much at moms. Oh, honey, I wish I could go to your party with you!” The lies poured out of me like water. I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do less than go to his staff party. There’s at least 25 year age difference between us, and no one would believe I was his actual date.  

     Then he starts telling me about how he has this coffee tin full of coin and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s asking me if he can take it to the bank with out rolling it. I tell him no, he has to roll them, but there’s a certain grocery store that has a machine, and for 10% you can dump the coins in and it will roll it all for you.
    “Well where is it?”
    “There’s a few of them, but none super close to you, you would need a car.”

    “Well why don’t I just give it to you?” 

    “Yeah, I can take it in for you.” I figure why the hell not. I have a car, and it wouldn’t take more than half an hour of my life. Mr. Texas is a good guy.

    “There’s probably over a thousand dollars in there. You can use that for your tuition. I always said I would pay that for you.”

     “Uhhh... ok...” I said. I didn’t know what to say. You want to pay my tuition with coin? Are you kidding? I don’t think so. The conversation didn’t last much longer than that. I seriously didn’t know what to say.

     He told me to give him a call after his staff party. I didn’t. He wants a princess, well he’s got one. I’ve decided to give him the silent treatment. I figure, if he wants to pay my tuition, fine. Awesome. Go ahead. But buddy, I don’t need it. I earned it with my other clients yesterday. Don’t give me your fucking pocket change. Don’t insult me. 

The Shaft

  I was going to call this blog 'Worst Thing I've Ever Done' but I immediately felt the need to defend myself. Instead I went with this title and explain how I dealt with it. 

    I saw this guy about a month ago. He was an ok guy. Didn't especially like him but there was nothing wrong with him. He was easy to talk to, and he thought I was awesome.

    "Alison, you're awesome. You're just awesome. You're so awesome". Yup. I'm awesome. 

    He called me back three times after our initial meet, but each time I was either not booked on, or I was with another client. Apparently he even called while I was out of town. I felt bad. I was worried he'd think I didn't like him.  

    He called tonight and I was free so I booked it. He lives in one of those towns that is so close to the city that it's almost been swallowed up by it, but no quite. Because it's outside of the city limits, it's a higher rate. Yay. I got there about ten minutes late due to the bad roads but he was happy to see me and a very gracious host. There was money sitting on the counter, but the stack was a little... short, and not the faces I like to see on those bills. 

    “Is that for me?” I ask sweetly.

    “Yeah, but here’s the thing...” And he starts humming and ha-ing. He’s saying “Well, The thing is...” And not using actual words so much I have to cut him off.

    “Clark, is this a good story or a bad story?” 

    “Well it’s not a bad story! I’ve been to three ATM’s and they are saying that the network for my bank is down.”

    I didn’t quite know how to handle this. Like I say, he was a nice guy, and we spent 90% of our last visit talking and getting to know him. I didn’t want to not trust him. Also, what was the alternative? Take the half payment and leave? And this is where I break Rule Number 1: Always collect full payment upfront. Regardless of what’s going on. Get him to put his pants back on, and go to the ATM across the street if you have to. If he wants to go further, you have to see the cash first, otherwise, chances are pretty damn good you’re not going to see it at all. 

    “How about you and I go to the casino, have some dinner, play some games, and have a good time. I can get some cash there to pay you,” He suggests. 

    “There’s a casino in town?” I ask. I didn’t think there was. 

    “No, no, we’ll go to the Whatever Casino.”

    “Ok,” I said, placing where in my city it was in relation to where we were... pretty much the opposite end of town. Minimum 40 minute drive. “Did you want to take separate cars?” I then explained to him my car policy. 

    He wasn’t to excited to hear that, two cars just seemed silly to him. He suggested we call a cab. I agreed as it seemed to be the best solution, and the only way I would get paid. He called, and they’d be about 3/4 of an hour to get to us, as they were busy because of the road conditions. Ugh. Annoying. As we sit there, chatting, I was thinking, what if things go south? What if I have to leave for what ever reason? This was getting too difficult. This is where I break rule number two. 

    “Lets just take my car.” I wanted to get paid, and hanging out here wasn’t going to make that happen. 

     “Are you sure?”

     And off we go. The roads were bad, so I was overly cautious on the highway, and he kept wanting to play with my hands, hold them and stroke my fingers. I was too busy white knuckling it, and at one point I just blurted out, “Ok, you need to stop doing that. I have to focus on the roads.” 

     The drive was 45 minutes of him telling me how awesome I was and how much fun we were going to have. He was continuously turning the radio up, yet still wanting to maintain a conversation. I was not having fun. 

     When we get there he tries to take out $3K from the teller, and his credit card is declined. He gets them to try again, and to avoid awkwardness, I take this opportunity to go get a drink well he gets his shit sorted out. When I return he’s on the phone with Visa. 

    To make a long story short, he spent the next hour and half getting transferred from person to person at Visa because he wanted them to re-activate his card, even though he’s been issued a new one. I tried to distance myself from his swearing and berating of the credit card employees but it was pretty obvious I was with this tool. People where staring. It was awesome. 

     It was obvious to me that he wasn’t going to get the money. A bank cannot re-activate a card after a new one has been issued. The old one is dead. And like you’re grandma, it’s staying that way. Sorry team. I was pissed. We were going to take a cab here! What was his fucking game plan for when we arrived. I’m sure the fare would have been between $70-$100 or more. He knew his credit cards weren’t working before I arrived. Was the thinking that I was just going to pay for it. That was a big factor of what pissed me off the most about this. 

     I said fuck it, and left him there. When his back was turned, I just took off. At first I felt quite guilty leaving him there, essentially stranded but he obviously had no qualms about fucking me over with the cab situation. All I say, is thank gawd I had my car with me! 

    So that was the 12th, Monday. The girl on the phones tried to console me by saying it had been a slow night. I said, “Even if you’re lying, thanks.” I told her to put him in the bad book. 

     Today is Saturday, and that ass-clown has the balls to call me back. I had booked off for dinner, and she phones me and says, “I know you’re booked off, but I have a call-back for you. I was just wondering what you’d like me to do with it.”

     “Who is it?”

     “Kevin.”

     “Kevin! You can tell him to go fuck him self! That’s what you can do! This is the guy who screwed me over last week! I thought you’d put him in the bad book. Apparently he’d done the same thing to Liz. Why is he still allowed to book through us!?!” I try not to give the girls on the phone a hard time. If they don’t like me, they won’t book me. But seriously! 
    
    If I told you this guys last name, those who live in town would know him. The temptation is overwhelming. He left me with his drivers licence in good faith to prove he wouldn't vanish when he went to the washroom, and I took a picture of it with my camera. If posting it wouldn't give away where I live, I totally would :D

Predicament

I have a lunch date tomorrow with a client in a restaurant whose face I do not remember.

Not sure how to handle this one.

Contemplations

    Jake came over to watch a little Breaking Bad the other night, and early into the episode, I got called into work. I didn’t have to travel to far, so in the interest of the show, I told the client I’d be there in an hour. Jake talks a lot while we watch shows. I had seen the first half of show so I didn’t mind. The call came right at the scene that I’d stopped watching so I quit participating in the conversation and focused on the show. He knew that it was work that called, and noticed that I got all quiet. 

    “So do you get all psyched out before you go to work?” He asked. 

    I didn’t really know what to say. Generally when I get the call it’s a race to get ready, but in this case, I just had to do a quick make-up touch 

    “What? No, why?”

    “You got all quiet.”

    “Oh, it’s just cause I haven’t seen this part of the show yet.” I told him. Half truth. The other half of that truth is it’s kind of like Pavlov’s Dog. Ring a bell and I’ll salivate. My body knows, and it starts to get ready. Sometimes, most of the time, I get super turned on before a call. 

    I didn’t feel the need to share this with Jake, because part of the understanding of our friendship is no more hooking up, which is fine. We’ve both changed, and that part of our relationship is behind us. 

    Having said that, I want to stress again that Alison having sex and Realme having sex are completely different things. Unless it’s extraordinary sex, ie like with the guy who called me Ally, I check out mentally. I really do. Yes, my body responds, and sure I have orgasims, but I really don’t get any gratification from it. Like right now, yes, I have sex every day, but I would love to just get laid. I haven’t had good, intimate, kiss you all over sex since I went on my little trip at the end of September. (Ugh... long mental lag there... the reader doesn’t know about time lapses.) Alison’s sex doesn’t even hit the radar of Realme. Maybe they are on to something when they say that women need that emotional connection in order to really enjoy sex. I’m finding that to be true lately. I have no interest in a hook up or a one night stand. I want cuddles! Actually, right now, I think I’d take cuddles over sex, but spooning inevitably leads to forking...

Anyway

     It got me to thinking what exactly goes through my psyche before I go out on a job. I would honestly say I do get a little nervous. About a 3 out of 10. But mostly it depends on how the call went. I always hope for the best, which is a cliché, but it’s true. To me ‘best’ means that the guy is a dude. He’s chill, and clean, and funny and easy to talk to. Hopefully he’s not living in a basement suite, and he’s not an SPD (ugh). I love meeting new people, so there’s a little excitement there. I’m not super particular about age or physicality's. I think a guy can be attractive and overweight, just as long as he does take care of himself. I like kindred spirits. 

     At the same time there’s a little dread. The not knowing. Sometimes I can tell on the phone if I am just going to be something that facilitates their orgasim. What if he’s stinky, or he has cat hair all over his bed (Allergies. Yes, I have left calls for that. Wash your sheets, dude). 

     There’s one or two cultures out there that pretty consistently treat me as a commodity. They don’t care who I am, what my name is. They have no interest in what I look like, or how I feel. They  don’t even want to fuck. They just want to cum. I feel racist about it, but it’s so consistent with them. Having said that, some girls will flat out refuse to see these guys. These guys treat me like a whore. I am not a whore, I’m an escort. Sure, raise your eyebrow, but you go into a restaurant where you’re paying upwards of $40 a plate, and tell your server to just bring you your food. You won’t do it because it’s rude. 

    Then there’s other tell tale signs as to where they’re from, or what generation they’re from. Names like Cecil or Bert are often indicators that they’re from a small town out in the prairies. 

    So that affects what I think about before I go into work. I often wonder how quickly I can get in and out. Sometimes, (most often with the afore mentioned culture) I literally can be done and back in my car with in 10 minutes, and have the whole hour paid for. I’ll give them credit for that. Although they’re often stingy bastards, and only pay for the half hour, or try to bargain. Side note: Watching the movie Easy A, from the perspective of someone who gets paid for actually having the sex, was hilarious. Especially the scene where the guy tries to give her a coupon. I died laughing! 

    Back in the day, when I was new, I used to worry when the door was about to open that it would be someone I knew. I’ve actually gotten really lucky, in that I’ve never run into anyone I know, or a client outside of work. There have been a few instances where there’s that guy in the check out line, and he looks familiar. Now I don’t know if I wouldn’t recognise the face of a client. In my contact book I keep a note of something about him, to remind myself who he is if he calls back (ie: ginger, likes when I ...) But that doesn’t always bring a face to mind. Generally how I play it, is if I think I see someone who is a client, I just pretend I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me, which is probably more often than not, true. Ange ran into one of her clients at the strippers one time. (yup, her and I went down there collecting posters) It was plenty awkward. 

    One of the things that almost always goes through my mind is making sure that I look good enough. Often when I start putting make-up on, I look in the mirror, and think, seriously? This is what I have to work with? Ugh, good luck! But as the paint goes on, things look better. It reminds me of the National Enquirer when they show movie stars without their make-up. I clean up good though. Ha ha. I’ve never ever had a complaint, but sometimes I worry that guys are disappointed with what they see when they open the door. I have always been chosen first when working with other girls, but I’m no bomb shell. I don’t look like the girls you see in porn. I don’t know why I’m comparing myself to them. They’re not hot. There’s one woman that I’ve met on a few occasions, and only worked with for the first time recently. She’s the full package. Fake boobs, fake nails, fake tan, probably fake hair, and she’s beautiful. Ha ha. I don’t want to look like her, but I feel like I should for the job. 

    The extreme level of weird that my job is, is not lost on me either. Often on the drive over, I think to my self; in 20 minutes, I’m going to be naked. With someone I’ve never seen before fucking me. That’s weird. That’s really fucking weird. 

    My biggest concern is how sober they are, or are not. I would say about 70% of my clients are not sober. Most of the time, it’s simply that they’ve had a few beers because they’re nervous. Most of the time they’re tipsy. Very tipsy. A lot of the time, they’re just fucked though. Come to think of it, I’d have to say drug usage has gone down considerably over the winter. Odd. Crack is something that I will just not participate with. If I see the pipe, I’m out. and if I think a guy has been ‘partying’ when we talk on the phone, I will ask him what kind of drugs he’s been doing, and I will make it clear to him where I stand on that. I will also call the agency, and let them know the situation, as he will most likely get passed on to another girl. My friend is a nurse, and she worries the most about blow. She says it causes people to be super unpredictable. With my experience with the drug, and what I’ve seen, frankly highest on my list of concerns is alcohol. Guy’s motor skills tank when they’ve had too much to drink. Whether they can’t get it up, or they can’t get their thoughts straight, they often get frustrated. Sometimes I worry that I may do something that would direct their frustration in my direction. If I’m ever scared though, I leave. Right away. I’ve done it several times, and the agency backs me. What I hate the most though is the time right before I decide to leave, and getting to the door safely. 

    I always knock. I never ring the door bell. I suppose it doesn’t make much sense, buy the way I see it, is they’re expecting me. They should be waiting. There’s no sense letting the whole house know I’m there. Then there’s the three seconds prior to them open the door. I know they’re standing there. I heard them approach, I can often see the light change through the peep hole. I know they’re eyeing me up before they open the door. I try not to look bored, or impatient, or aware of what they’re doing. I’m just waiting for them to open the door, anxious to see what I’ve signed up for. And some times I think, this could be the call where everything goes south. 

    So, in a nutshell, that’s what goes through my brain prior to walking onto the job. No big deal. 

My Future

     Mom and I had it out a few weeks ago. It kind of sucked a lot. I didn’t mean to pick a fight with her, but I had to tell her how I was upset about when she didn’t remember about the babysitter. Then all the things I’ve been hanging on to for the past little while all came pouring out. 

    Lately I’ve been looking at my future a lot, especially since I’ve decided I’m only in this for one more year, I need an exit strategy. Over the course of my life, I’ve wanted to do a lot of things. An EMT for example, and my mom said, “You realise you’ll be the first person on the scene every time? No matter what? You’ll be the one who has to deal with it.” Well, I don’t want to do that! I wanted to be a geologist, “What? And just sit in an office all the time?” I wanted to join the military, I wanted to be a massage therapist, a real estate agent, a cop, I wanted to do all sorts of things, but in making sure I made an educated decision, Mom always pointed out the negative. And she was often right. It was years before I realised that all jobs are going to have negative sides to them, that’s just reality. 

    So I was talking to Mom, and I start telling her how mad I am about this. How she’s talked me out of every ambition I’ve ever had. I told her that the next thing I come to her with, even if it’s the worst job she could think of, she isn’t to say a single negative thing about it. The conversation was really hard, and we both ended up crying. She felt like she’d failed me as a mother. I felt awful for making her feel that way. It wasn’t my intent, I just didn’t know how to tell her that I needed her to support my decisions. 

    Well, she heard me! She’s on this crazy bandwagon about me going back to school. I’ll be out for dinner, and I’ll receive a text from her saying “Pediatrics” No other context. and it’s like “Huh?” She brings it up every time we talk on the phone. 

    The thing is, I’m already enrolled! I’m taking Communications. I want to take journalism, but the school I want to go to doesn’t offer it. Basically, I’m just taking something to start. That’s the only thing I care about right now. Starting and not failing! One of my classes is a Woman’s Study class. I’m so excited about that one. Once I get through the first semester, I’ll get more focused and specific. 

    Mom doesn’t know about this. It’s my Christmas present to my family. “Merry Christmas. I’m doing something with my life and you don’t have to pay for it!” 

    I’m giving my Mom my acceptance letter, my Dad a copy of my student ID (cause he likes pictures) and my Grandma a copy of my schedule, so she knows where I am all the time! Ha ha. 

    So, as I said, Moms been hounding me all the time about this, and I’m either, “Yeah, yeah,...” change the subject. Or, “Well, I don’t know... what would I take... I’m too old to go back.” Totally waffling. The awesome part is, I know this is going to blow up in my face. I can just picture her yelling at me, “You tell me to encourage you...!!!” ha ha ha. I can never win. But it’s ok. There’s a lot of love in every loss! 

    The tricky part is, in one of the conversations we’ve had, she told me that she’s figured out how we will make it happen financially. That’s what my mom is good at. Making things happen. She made a four month trip to Europe materialize for me in two weeks, when our family has no money. My Mom is amazing. Her plan is to borrow against her inheritance (although Grandma is still living... with her), then loan me that money. So essentially I’ll be borrowing from my inheritance. The thing is, I don’t need to borrow money to go to school. I could easily do two semesters (rent and tuition) with the cash I have in my condo right now. Yes, I’d have to cut back, but still... 

    And I don’t even have to do that! Mr. Texas said he is going to put me through school!  He is going to give me the money for my first semester on Monday. Again, I’ll believe it when I see it. But, shit, if that happens... awesome! BTW, I don’t accept money with strings, sooo... But I think he’s pretty clear on that one. We have a good ‘relationship’. 

    Given all of this, the guilt I will feel taking money from my family... ugh. I don’t even want to think about it. I haven’t come up with a story as to where I’ll be getting the money after the first semester. This one is ‘paid for’ by the money I’m saving whilst house sitting. 

    So what do you think? Take the money? Make up lies? I don’t know.  

Irritated... Like a Bad Rash

I know my experience with tonights client will make a great blog post, and I'll probably laugh about it tomorrow, but right now, I'm just too irritated to talk about it. 

What went wrong? I had rules, and I broke them. Two of the biggest ones. That's what went wrong. 

But don't worry. By the end of the night, he was way more fucked than I was, and my clothes never came off. 

Lube

     It’s 9:30 on a Friday night, and I’m at the drug store picking up lube. On a whim I decided  to try KY Jelly. This was a fail, and I needed something new asap. My calls were lined up tonight. Well, not really, that makes me sound like such a whore... wait... Well, I had an internet ad at 6:45, then at 8:30 I had a call back, then at 10:00 Mr. Texas. I guess that makes me a whore. I’m ok with that.  

     So I’m standing there deciding which lube to buy, I’m always torn between Astroglide, and KY. They’re kinda different, but generally I go with which one fits most discretely in my purse. They had something new today! KY has these little easter egg size balls o’ lube! 

     “What’s this?!?!” I exclaim, to no one in particular. But the novelty isn’t even the best part! They last for four freaken days! I do not buy it. This is not something that I want to experiment with on my way to work. And four days? Really? I don’t really want to mental image what that’d be like? The word ‘Goopy’ comes to mind. Eww. My brain is going way further with that, but I really don’t think you want to go there with me. 

   Purchases in hand I head to the check out, and in front of me in line are four middle aged, slightly over-weight women. All with arms full of junk food. Clearly they all have their friday nights planned. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with a little snackie on a friday night, but the only thing that came to mind was ‘I never want to be like that.’ I’m making assumptions, but I’m fairly certain that they were just going home to their cat and misery. Yes. I’m a horrible person. Oh well. 

I Think About This A Lot

yeah, I drew it myself 

I SURVIVED!

     I know, I know, you all were very worried. To be completely honest, it wasn’t bad at all. I’m not even going to say it wasn’t that bad. I would say going to the dentist is less pleasant. The technique these guys used was completely different than my previous experience. Their machine blew mad amounts of freezing cold air on to the spot before they zapped it, so I hardly felt anything at all. I won’t say it was completely painless, but hardly worth the anxiety I had. 

Beauty is Pain. Goddamnit.

     I found a bump. You know... down there... Then I had a freak out over red bumps down there. I’ve been to the doctor three times over in-grown hairs. I’m terrified that it’s the herp. After much poking and prodding, I have discovered that this too is an in-grown hair. I’m going to the clinic tomorrow anyway. Just for fun. And I’m out of birth control. I get my pill packets two months at a time. It keeps me going back on a regular basis. 

     Following that (after a liquid lunch with Alex) I’ll be going to get all that hair removed on a more permanent basis. The problem I have with in-grown hairs isn’t bad, but it isn’t good, so I’m going for electrolysis. Waxing was dumb, because the hair is always growing back, shaving is a pain; literally, nair isn’t going near my naughty bits, what else does that leave? Electrolysis. Ughhh.

    I’m terrified. For the record. I know how much waxing hurts. I know how much getting my eyebrows lasered hurts. I figure if you multiply the two, that will be close to what I’m in for. Hence the liquid lunch with Alex. And I’m going to pop some tylenol, and get some topical cream, and smoke a dube. Repeat once a month for five to six months. 

    I’m also terrified I will ever have the opposite reaction. Ever heard of the violet wand? Google it. Yeah, it gets me off. Totally. Don’t kid yourself, the eyebrow situation was in no way erotic, but on my lady parts? I don’t know. I’m sure it will be fml pain, not oo-la-la pain. I’ll report back tomorrow and let you know how it goes, I’m sure you will all be in suspense. I imagine I’ll be a little sensitive afterwards, so it will be all I will have to report on. 

Click Click

    It’s photo time again! If I were giving my current photos to my plus one or something like that, they’d be great, but the way I’m posed, it looks like I’m hiding my fat. Which would be fine, if I were fat, but I’m not. The photos just aren’t working for me. And even if they were, I’ve had them for a while now, it’s time to get new ones. The photographer I used for the last shoot was a friend of Alex’s and as a result I got an incredibly sweet deal. I did not realise the deal I got until I started looking at other photographers. 

    I wasn’t super keen to go back to her again, simply because it would involve explaining. Why do I need more photos? I don’t know. I also feel like I would be taking advantage of a favour. Although she is an incredible photographer, I am not a professional model, and I need a little more guidance with posing and whatnot. So I go on line and see what else is out there. I find this amazing website, and I’d actually heard of the company before. The photographer knew what she was good at, and worked it. The photos were all unique, but artistically similar. It was exactly what I wanted. 

    The next day I called in and booked a consult, and she was super friendly. She had this questionnaire for me so that she could get to know me, and find out exactly what I wanted. She felt that if she knew me as a person, she would be better able to portray that on ‘film’. It seemed to make sense to me. June and I were talking my way in, and I told her that I was going to tell them that the photos were a Christmas present for my fictional plus one. 

    She asked me what I did for a living and I told her about the concierge company I worked for, and she was fascinated by it. Too fascinated. A waterfall of questions followed. 

    “Wow, that sounds great! What kind of services do they provide?”

    I told her.

    “What are their rates like?”

    Ugh, I hate this question. “It really depends. It kind of works like Triple A, with different membership levels. There’s three different tiers, and it depends on how you pay, and what services you get..” This is all true. But she was giving me a blank stare, waiting for an answer, “Basically, it’s about $80 an hour.” {True} 

    “Really! That sounds great! I know some people who would be very interested in it! Do you have a card?”

    “Uh, let me check,” Dig dig dig through purse, “Oh, it looks like I’m all out.”

    “No worries, what’s the phone number?” 

    Are you kidding, I have no idea! “Why don’t you just check out the website. It’s blahblahblah.com,” I think it’s dot com. It might be dot something else. 

    “So do you do this on your own?”

    “No, we’re a company of five, Samantha runs it.”

    “Really, so it’s all girls like you?”

    “Well, it’s me and another girl, and we have a cleaner, and her parents help out sometimes.” {True} When is this rapid fire questioning going to stop???

    “What’s Samantha’s last name?” Yeah, she’s writing all this down on her little yellow post-it note. 

    I don’t remember! I say the first name that comes to mind, which is the last name of the only other Samantha I know. Fail. The whole thing was a fail. Fuck. After it was all over I didn’t know whether I should call Samantha and give her a heads up about the bucket of mis-information that was going to be coming her way or not. I decided against. Maybe this photographer lady was just sucking up, and pretending to be interested in giving business back. I hope to god that’s what’s happening. 

    But wait. It gets worse. 

   She finally releases on that bone, and we continue on. She asks when the last time I was in front of a camera. I didn’t want to tell her six months ago. 

    I said, “My dad’s a photographer, so I’m in front of a camera all the time. I still feel super awkward about it though,”

    “Oh really! What’s your Dad’s name.”

    “Oh, you probably don’t know him, he lives in Whatevertown.”
    “Try me!” She was all excited about this six degrees of separation game. So I tell her. “Norm!” She shouts down the hall way, “Come in here, you’ll never guess who is here! This is Realme, her dad is...” 

    “No kidding. I haven’t seen you since you were this big!” He says lowering his hand down to mid thigh. Fuck. My. Life. 

    “Ha ha, well sorry if I don’t remember you!” I laugh and shake his hand, “I’m all grown up now, please don’t tell my dad I’m getting boudoir photo’s taken!” 

    “Oh, no, of course not. You know your dad and I use to par-tee together!!!” 

    “Oh, I’d believe that! If Dad knows anything, it’s how to have a good time!” My heart is in my throat and I just want it all to be over. Such a shaky tower of fucking cards I’ve built that can still all come crashing down. Samantha knows what I do. During the interview process, she cornered me. Aggressively. My third cover story wasn’t passing with her, so I caved and just told her the truth. I got the job though, so... but if this lady calls, if Samantha finds out I’m using her as a cover story... If she tells the photographer, and Norm finds out... I just can’t think about that. 

    If only it was six degrees of separation. Now it’s just one. 

    Norm leaves and we return to business. Questionnaire over. Price time. $2,000 for their basic package. $2,000! Frick. I was hoping to spend closer to $500. Alex’s friend cost $200, plus $200 for the stylist. Frankly, even though my dad is in the business, I have no concept as to what is competitive for pricing. I choked on this though. 

    I said, “Although I’m sure your product is worth it, I’m not quite prepared to invest that much money in it. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Her photos were amazing though. Everyone of them looked like they could be on the cover of Maxim. 

    I walked out of there feeling like I was going to puke. 

    I phoned the agency and asked if we had a photographer that we used. We don’t specifically, but she recommended I call my boss. She would probably know. Sure enough, she had a photographer’s number memorised. I called and got a consult booked for that evening. Perfect! Maybe I’ll have new photos before Christmas after all. His studio is in his basement. When I arrived, he took my coat for me, and placed it on the couch amongst next to his cat and many dogs. I do not have severe allergies, but I do not enjoy them. 

    “I’m sorry,” I say politely, “Would you mind if I hung it in the closet? I’m allergic.” 

    “Sure,” He said, and passed me my coat and nodded in the direction of the closet. Seriously. These are the manners you use on a potential client? Ha. Call me a snob, but I generally put a higher value on customer service than the actual product. 

    We go down into the basement where his portraits are displayed through out. Mmmm, I was not impressed. Many of the portraits used the same style foam core faux brick structures my dad bought for his studio in the early 90’s. And disposed of in the late 90’s. Most of his back-drops were created by satin fabric draped in various ways. Everything was so dated. Even his styles. It was awkward. I didn’t know what to say. He went through his speel of all the different options of back grounds we could use, and props, and his wife would be able to do my hair and make up for me. Jee, really? I don’t know. I feel guilty, but I was unimpressed to the point of being annoyed. I couldn’t believe my boss used this guy. Every thing he showed me looked like it was circa 1997. I showed him the website of the lady I saw this morning. 

    “You see how the focus is more on the girl, and not the back ground. That’s kind of what I’m looking for. You see how it’s all in how they lit it to feature different body parts?” 

    “Well, yes, of course good lighting is important,” He says like I’m the dumbest person in the world. 

    Right. Ok then. I love it when men try to make me feel dumb. His photos had such flat light. I decide to still give him a chance. When I talked to his wife on the phone earlier, she said that the shoot was $400. If it doesn’t work out, then no big deal. As he goes through the price tiers, he explains that the shoot is $400, but if I wanted the images the price goes up. What the hell is that. That’s like saying a meal costs x, but if you want it on a plate, well then...! In the end for three different sets, it would be about a grand. 

    “So when should we book?” He asks me. 

    “Well you’ve given me a lot to think about here, why don’t I give you a call” I say. Pet the dog. Go get your coat. 

    Suddenly the other photographer isn’t looking so bad. $2,000 is so much money though. But the thing is, I know it would pay for itself. I know she would make me feel comfortable. I know the photos would be amazing. We would get four sets out of the deal, so I could rotate pictures quarterly. Ugh. I just don’t want to shell out that kind of money. 

Money Grubbing Whore

    Forgive me for being jittery. I’ve been driving through blizzards for the last three hours, having consumed nothing but Red Bull and Tim Hortons. Today is Alison’s One Year Anniversary, and I’m getting the fuck out of dodge. 

    This last week has been unusual. I have grossed more this week than any other week before, doing better on a daily basis than I do most saturdays, and it’s mainly been just two clients. The good/bad thing about it is they’ve all been multi hour calls, so I pay the same fee, make more, and less is on the books. I don’t usually really try to hide my cash, and I don’t want this much on record (ie in the bank). Because I’m heading out of town, I’m a little nervous keeping it in it’s usual spot, so I’ve put it in a zippy and duct taped it to the back of something awesome. I kind of feel like a drug dealer. Ha Ha. My best friend, June, says I should walk into the university’s registrars office and pay them with a zippy of cash. Mmm, I don’t think I want to feel like that much of a drug dealer. 

    I’ve seen Mr. Texas three times this week. He went home for Thanksgiving, and I guess he missed me while I was gone. 

    I also have a new regular. His name is Brad. He's in his mid 50's and works as an engineer for the mines in the Arctic. I don’t really like him. We spend most of our time lying in bed talking with his hand resting shakily on my breast. I find it exhausting, well not exhausting, but very taxing. That’s why I’m leaving town. I had lunch with my mom yesterday, and she said she’s never seen me looking so tired. 

   I’ve seen him almost every day this week. He pays me extremely well, way more than what’s required. I feel like we've exhausted all conversation though. So I’ll ask him some random questions, and that will send him off talking for five or ten minutes, then I’ll come up with another arbratray question. I asked him about his childhood, and he told me that his brother and him fought a lot. Through the five days of talking, I’ve learned that his brother is six years older than him. 

    “Seriously? There was that much of an age difference, and your brother still beat you up? That’s not right!” I tell him, with sympathy in my voice. 

    “Well he did until I stepped up to him, then he knew not to mess with me any more. Boy, my parents were mad about that!” He chuckles. 

    “What did you do?” I ask, thinking he was going to tell me a story of a mean prank he pulled or something.

    “I threw a pot of boiling water at him.”
    “You what?!? Are you kidding? Of course your parents were mad! How old were you?” I left out the ‘what the fuck!’

    “I was ten. Oh yeah, my Dad took off his belt for that one, but my brother never touched me again. Oh, he wasn’t hurt that bad, he didn’t have to go to the hospital or anything. But he never touched me again.” 

    Fuck. 

    Later on we were talking, and he tells me, “Probably the most traumatic thing that happened to me as a kid, was when I was six, I got polio. I was hospitalised for a few months, but it took two years to learn to walk again.”

    “Wait a second.” I say, connecting the pieces, “So your brother was beating up a kid in a wheel chair six years younger than him?” 

    “Well, yeah, until I threw that pot of boiling water at him. He never touched me after that. It was just sibling rivalry though, it was normal.” 

    I didn’t know where to go with this. That shit is not normal. Fuck. I am not a therapist, so I said, “Mmmm-hmm,” and continued to pet his chest hair. Fuck. 

    I’ve spent ten hours with this guy in the last week. I haven’t spent that much time with any of my friends combined. Exhausting. I think I’m turning into an introvert. 

    He wants to take me away on vacation. Usually that's not up for discussion, but he wants us to go to the tourist town an hour away that I've mentioned a few times. I could take my own car. From what I hear from other girls, you can really call your own shots for this sort of thing. Like having your own room, bringing a friend, having an allowance on top of your wage... That sort of thing. 

As for what my wage would be, I have no idea. Some girls post that on line so I'll have to research it. You know the whole bogo concept, buy one, get one, or buy three or get one, whatever...? I feel the opposite with my job. The more time I spend with a client the more I want to charge them. The more time I spend with them the harder it is to maintain Alison, and frankly Realme just doesn't care that much. He keeps talking about how money isn't an issue though. He told me how he took an ex-girlfriend to Macau to a casino where the minimum bet was $8K. So I'll figure out what is standard then add 30%. It won't be until March anyway, if it ever happens. He brings it up all the time. He brings up his money all the time too. All the time. 

    Right now, I’m feeling like there’s no way in hell would I go. I’ve given him all Alison’s got. I don’t want to spend another minute with the guy. I know my time with him is just two hour increments, but they feel like forever. I just don’t think I could spend a weekend with him. If I were to change my mind, I think I would charge him $15K. I haven’t really looked into what other girls charge, but I see that as a nice number. 

    As for Mr. Texas, I’ve seen him three times this week. I like him alright. He’s a gentle spirit. I discovered exactly what he wants a while back. He wants a little girl. He loves it when I curl up in his lap and tell him about the silly little things in my life. I really play the princess around him. Take care of me. As I mentioned I’m going back to school, I start classes in January, and although there is no real status updates in that yet, he always asks. Every time I see him, he promises to pay for my tuition. Like all of it. 

    “I want to pay for your school,” He tells me, “I want to see you happy, and following your dreams.” I almost believe him. Ha ha. I just don’t how or when to collect. I suck at this! Ha ha. 

     That’s the thing that him and Brad have in common. They talk about their money all the time. “Money is something I’ve never had to worry about,” is Brads token line, and “I’m not that smart, I’ve just made some good decisions, and got lucky,” is Mr. Texas’. They’ve both repeated it countless times. But I’m not a money grubber. I don’t care how much money you make. If you wanna be flashy about it, friggen pay me more. Then I’ll care, but I’m not going to chase it. I don’t know how. I am so not a player. The other night I actually googled, “How to be manipulative” Ha ha ha, maybe I’m in the wrong industry. 

Further To My Past

I told you that I was going to see someone regarding what options I have for dealing with the incident of sexual abuse that occurred when I was a young child. 

I went to see her on tuesday, and she was really wonderful. I found her through the local sexual assault hotline, and as mentioned they were able to get me in quite quickly. She is not a therapist, or a lawyer, or a cop. Just someone who was able to explain the system to me. 

I had already decided for myself that I did not want to press charges. I felt that the punishment would be too severe. My discussion with her reaffirmed that. If I pressed charges, I would not be able to change my mind. I would not be able to drop the charges, as you see happening on tv all the time. Essentially it would be take out of my hands. I do not want this to happen. If I press charges, and if he is convicted, it would be a minimum of two years jail time. It would be very unlikely that there would be a conviction. 

I could also pursue civil litigation. This is what they did with OJ Simpson. When he was found not-guilty in criminal courts, they charged him in the civil courts. I would have to hire my own lawyer, it would be a very lengthy process, and there would be no criminal charges. The benefit of this would be a financial settlement.  Cam and I both decided it would be awesome if he paid for our therapy, but I found him on facebook. I doubt he would be able to afford it. 

I could go to the police and make a statement. If I do this, it would be up to the officer to decide what to do with the information I give him/her. As mentioned in this situation, the cop could decide to take it from me and press charges. I imagine if it was a violent rape, with evidence, perhaps that is what would happen. In my case, I doubt it. The cop could decide to just mention it on his file. 

Then there is mediation. This is the most appealing option to me. I just want to talk to him. Before I had the meeting with her, I didn't really want to talk to him, but now I do. I want his side of the story. I realised while talking to her, that I don't remember the second half of the incident. I don't remember how it ended. That makes me curious. Why did my subconscious remember the first have clear as day, and completely block out the second half? What else happened? Sincerely, I don't believe that it went any further than that, although I jokingly wonder if it is the source of my cumphobia... (ha ha?)         

There is no agency or social worker who would facilitate this mediation. I would have to do it myself, and everyone would have to be compliant. The idea of doing it without a mediator scares me. It is not something I want to do at all. When I was a teenager working alone at a fast food restaurant I was robbed one night. The for the  next few days I had an intense irrational fear of any man coming near me. That's kind of how I feel about this. I know it's irrational, but I do not want to see him if it is not a controlled environment, and I would not be the one in control. 

Alex mentioned to me that Marc may feel uncomfortable discussing anything if there is another dude sitting there, but I really don't care about his comfort level. Dealing with this hasn't exactly been comfortable. Alex's point is that it may be counter productive. I get it. Maybe my friend will sit at the bar. I don't know. I know I can't do it alone though. 

Right now my plan is to facebook him. Let him know that I want to talk to him, and let him know that I have been looking into the various ways to deal with this. I would tell him that sitting down with me is the best option for both of us. I would stress the 'both of us' part of it. I will put a timeline on when I expect a response. He needs to know that he cannot ignore me. If he thinks he can, then I will go to the police. The problem is, what if he doesn't check his facebook? I have no control over that. I could get in contact with his sister (her and I were childhood friends, and did a semester in high school together) But probably not without arising suspicion. I'm also planning on going home some time before Christmas, where Dad and I can sit down with his parents. 

For now though, I'm not doing anything. I'm just processing this. Cam and I had further conversations, and he said that he will support me in anything I need to do, and he will be there 100%, but he really doesn't want to make a big deal out of this. He does not want to confront anyone. I do not want him as an unwilling participant, and will no longer involve him. Same goes for my Mom. She seems to have enough on her plate right now with problems in her own life. I tried to talk to her about the meeting I had regarding the babysitter, and she said "What babysitter?"

"Marc Johnson"

"Who?"

"Mom, are you kidding me!?!" I tried not to yell. That's a fail. That's a serious fail on my moms part. She got upset and really defensive, so I reminded her, that when I was a young child she hired a babysitter who sexually molested me. She proceeded to give me advice for the next 15 minutes. 

I know my mom has depression, and as a result there are problems with memory loss, but this is something that I would have thought would rank. I'm not talking to her about it any more. 

As for you guys, sorry, but this is the last update you will get too. I wrote about it because I felt that may have had a part in creating Alison, and that is relevant, but beyond that, it's Realme who has to deal with it. Worry not, I know  I'll be ok. I have a good support network, and soon therapy! Ha ha. 

As a P.S. though, in the other post I wrote that if I am the way I am because of what happened, I wanted to punish him to the full extent. I felt very angry about it. Having given it more thought, I was working in a shit job not making rent. Now I'm in a job that I like more than any other job I've had, and I can afford to live, and live well. There have been ups and downs, but that's life, that's not limited to being an escort. This is the hand I've been dealt, and there's no sense dwelling on the who or the why.

Movember

My Movember client count: ZERO! 

Listen, I am, by no means, an advocate of the moustache. Beard yes. Moustashe alone, eww. But men, you've disappointed me. Zero! Seriously? Shame on you! Shame on you, Men!!!

Grow your Mo!!!

(and raise money for a worthy cause, don't just look like an idiot cause everyone else is doing it)

From The Bottom Of My Heart

     I often write blogs ahead of time and wait for a good time to post them. I wrote this one yesterday morning but there was already a post for yesterday (posted past midnight) I had something else lined up for today, but in response to yesterday's comment this post bumps the line.
    It doesn't convey what I want to say. Although I'm an over sharer and I talk/write incessantly when it come to saying thanks, or showing true appreciation, I often find myself not knowing what to say at all. So here it is. Written yesterday morning all tucked in my flannel sheets with my tea and toast at my side.


    I woke up this morning feeling all mushy and lovey dovey. I want to thank you guys. Thank you for reading, and thank you for coming back time and again.

     Blogger keeps stats, and although they are not super consistent, it shows that the majority of you come to my blog by googling "Exploits of an Escort", meaning that you're return readers. That means so much to me.

     Most of my friends read my blog, and the feed back they give me is tremendous. I know that they're reading my blog, not out of support because they love me, but because they love my blog. I can't tell you what an impact that has on me.

    This blog is such an important part of my life. I have to confess, I'm probably my own biggest fan. It's like a touch point for me. It reminds me that although my job is not normal, I still am. Mostly anyway.
    Because of this blog I have decided to go back to University and take Communications. Hopefully there I will learn proper use of commas. I know I use them way too much... ~~~ insert reddit.com joke here: This is, who I picture, whenever, you use too many, comma's. Then it shows the kid from Malcom in the Middle.

    This post sucks. It's not saying what I want to say at all. I tried to write a similar one for my 100th post, but the words aren't coming to me easily. What I want to say is Thank You. Thank you for reading, thank you for your comments, your emails and your support. You guys rock!

P.S. I didn't realize my email address isn't currently posted. I thought that the little box at the bottom was to email me. It's not. I've added my email address to my profile if you want to get in touch.

Not The Saturday I Was Hoping For

9:32 First call - I was still sleeping. The phone number was not in service. Go back to sleep

9:50 Second call -  Still sleeping. Call Raj, he sounds iffy. Not sketchy, just flakey. I confirm with him the rates, and everything, tell him I'll be there in an hour, and set my snooze for just ten more minutes. 

9:58 Agency calls - Apparently Raj called them. He cancelled. Glad I hadn't gotten out of bed yet. Go back to sleep. 

10:03 Alex calls -  Yes, I had managed to fall asleep in those 5 minutes. Oh well. It's been a week since we've talked. It's been a week since I've talked to anyone. I've been flying under the radar for the past few days. Don't know why, I'm finding social things exhausting. For the sake of the friendship, I invite Alex over for pancakes. I told him there was a pretty good chance I'd get called in to work though. 

10:36 Agency calls - there are two calls lined up for me. Dave and Scott. Call Dave first, it's a no go, he's looking for a black girl. Fine. Call Scott, it's a no go, he's looking for an asian. I say to Alex, "Too bad I'm just a little white girl." 
    "Alright little white girl, lets make some pancakes," He replies.
    I phone the agency back and let them know.

10:52 Agency calls -  Apparently Raj has changed his mind and wants to see me after all. I phone him, and tell him I'll be there in a little over an hour. I put Alex in charge of making pancakes, and I go do my make up. Yesterdays hair will have to do. 

12:01 Text from Agency asking me to call Raj -  I'm just pulling up to the corner where his house should be, but isn't. I call him he tells me that he has to go get money. I'm not concerned about that. If that's the case, I'm going to start the clock as soon as I find his house. He's insisting it's the pink house on the corner, but the house on the corner is brown. Aggravating. I tell him to walk out to the sidewalk so I can find him, then wait for a couple minutes then decide, fuck this and get back in my car. I call the agency, explain the situation, and they put him in the bad book. They give me another number to try.

12:08 - Try this other number, goes straight to voicemail. Typical avoidance tactic.

12:09 - Andrew calls. Wants to know what's up. Awkward. I keep it short, and tell him I'm driving

12:11 - Try the number again. Voicemail again. Phone agency and let them know that it's a no go. This is not uncommon. 

And then the lull. Mid-afternoons are always dead. I did a little shopping, then went to yoga. I'm back doing yoga all the time, well my schedule is yoga, yoga, swim, break. And repeat. I like it :) There's a call waiting for me when I get out. 

3:51 - Call new number. Discuss rates and services. He does not want to pay for GFE. Sorry buckaroo. 

3:54 - Call and book off for a little while. I'm supposed to go for dinner with a friend who I really want to get to know better, but I'm just feeling so run down and tired, I call her and cancel. I feel really bad. I went home, made dinner and napped. 

5:37 - Booked back on. 

7:00 - No calls. 

9:00 - No calls. 

11:00 - No calls. Come on Team! It's saturday! What's going on?

11:46 - Agency calls, she warns me that this guy has trouble with the english language. I hate getting warnings. I like forming my own opinions. I phone the guy and he def has problems with the english language. I don't particularly mind, but if I can't clearly get the address, forget it. I don't book. 

11:54 - Agency gives me another one. I call, and in the amount of time for me to return his call, he already has another girl on the way. But he likes the sound of me way better. He tries to cancel with her, but can't. It's a no go. 

12:09 - Another call to try, Dan. I phone Dan. Dan is actually Paul, and Paul wants to book for tomorrow. Paul doesn't actually want to book, he's just saying that to be nice. Probably isn't impressed that I called him Dan. Girl at the agency is very sorry. 

12:14 - Agency calls, Bambi was out on a call, and although the guy was nice, she didn't feel she was right for him. She gave him some of his money back and left. Would I be able to go see this guy? Seriously? What's his issue? No, I don't want someone elses rejects! Sorry!

12:49 - I still have two hours of potential work, but based on my day, I'm callin 'er quits. What a retarded day. I made NO money for all of that BS. Lame.