Dear Dexter,

I was reluctant to write about this because my friends read my blog, and I don’t want them to worry. However, in my commitment to this blog, it would be unfair not to write about the good, bad and ugly. Tonight wasn’t just bad but it was ugly.

I’m learning to tell the types of guys my calls are. This evenings call was the type of guy who will be respectful but will push for as much as he can get with in the confines of the rate he’s paid. Coming from a customer service back ground it’s hard to say no, I naturally want to please. I’ve needed to learn that these boys need boundaries, and I can say that they can’t do that. I accidentally miss-quoted tonight’s client. He wanted a second girl, and I quoted him the usual hourly rate, and then found out much later that the rate would be higher if she and I were going to be interacting. He was disappointed, and I felt bad. At this time I still thought of him as being a nice gentleman. As consolation, I agreed to join him in the shower, even though that is usually not done. (Logistically; it ruins your hair and make-up, and you have to re-do it all before the next client) I get out of the shower, and I notice that there were four bright red blood drops on the floor mat. I point this out as being odd, and asked him if he’d cut himself. He said, “no” with a surprised face. And I’m confused. Where did this blood come from? As I’m looking around the bathroom floor, I notice that there’s quite a bit more blood. Quite a bit. I flip the mat, and it’s the brass colour of blood mixed with water, and I also notice that blood is splattered all over the bottom of the toilet bowl. Splattered. Not smugged, or dripped, or… I don’t fucking know, but it’s splattered. Maybe I haven’t seen enough Dexter, but if you could tell me how blood splatters without being hit from something, like a head bashing against a toilet seat… well, I’d be happy. My Gut said “GET OUT!” My Brain said, “I’m sure it’s nothing.” To which my Gut replied, “if this is not a red flag, what the fuck is? Get the fuck out of there!” So I did. I was straight with him. I told him that that’s a big red flag for me, and in my industry I have to keep myself safe. I gave him all his money back, and he insisted on paying me for the hour. Then I got the fuck out of there.