Tonight’s client was a divorcee. When he was done he leaned up and looked at me and asked, “Should I be happy now?” I told him no. His wife left three days ago and he spent most of our time telling me how much he loved her, how much she was his soul mate, and the only one for him, yet he wants me to call him next Friday. He wants me to see him regularly. They split up 8 months ago, and he fought it like crazy, and that didn’t work, so this time he’s letting her go, and hoping that she will realise that she needs him as much as he needs her. He’s hoping that this will work.
I have no doubt that he loves her. We were talking about swinging, and during the discussion, I was wondering to myself if he’d ever cheated on her. It’s not a question I would ever ask, but because I knew the answer, I was certain of it, I did ask. He said anything he ever did with someone else, she encouraged, knew about or participated in. The two of them used to swing. He said that that was the beginning of their demise, which I understand. My partner and I used to swing, and it may or may not have been the beginning of our demise as well. It was a lot of fun, but it’s hard to have a relationship doing that. I always think it’s so weird. It’s a mess. Relationships are such a mess. I’ve always believed that people were fooling themselves into believing that we, as humans, are capable of monogamy, but maybe some are. The way that he loved her was true… yet still he wants to see me once a week. It doesn’t make sense.
This job continues to open new doors in my perspectives on the human psyche. I’m continuing to learn how people work. And the more I learn the more it baffles me. I guess it keeps bringing me back to the fact that people are people. I know I can’t really explain it, but it makes sense to me why he wants me there. I’m not saying it’s ok. If I were the ex and my +1 was seeing escorts three days after I left, there would be nooooo going back. But I get it from his perspective. Guys think with their dicks.
Him and my ex would have been best friends! They were the same. Former body builder, very flashy with his money, loves his wife more than anything in the world. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it now, I don’t know if I’ll ever find anyone who will treat me better than my ex did. My ex worshiped the ground that I walked on, but part of the reason we broke up was we stopped communicating. I don’t know why this man and his wife broke up but I can tell that there were just so many similarities. When I left my ex, there was nothing under the sun that would have brought me back. I was just done. Maybe that’s where this woman’s at. I have no idea why they split up, but it’s not like they were together for a short time. They have kids, and it’s heart breaking. I so badly wanted to wave the magic wand for him and make his marriage better.
When we weren’t talking about his wife, we were talking about me. LOL. He wasn’t rude by any stretch, but we were very much on the same page though, that this was just sex and conversation. We had perhaps the most honest discussion that I’ve ever had with a client. It definitely leaves me with a lot to think about. He asks, “So how do I know you’re not faking it?” I laugh and say, “Cause I don’t lie in my job. I lie about my name and my age. That’s all. But you’re a smart guy, you already know that.” We laugh. He had already asked, “How old are you really?” I told him. Who cares. He didn’t. “I know you weren’t 24!” Ha ha. “So what’s your name?” I wouldn’t tell him. “Is it an emotional thing?” He asks. I say, “No, it’s a safety thing,” But then I think about it, and I laugh and tell him, “Well, I’ve had fuck buddy that I didn’t really like, and I made him call me Alison, so I guess it is an emotional thing.” This kind of opened the gates to honest discussions and we’re going to be straight with each other.
He asks me the age old question, “How can I get a hold of you next time” “Same way you got a hold of me this time, call the agency.” He winces, like it hurts to hear that, “Aww, I hate the agency.” So I ask him, “Why do men hate the agency, what is it?” And it’s not me giving him an opportunity to complain, it’s me trying to trouble shoot. I want to figure out what the problem is, and work around it. He told me, and I suppose I already knew this, “I don’t like middle men. I want to deal with the people I’m dealing with and not others. Especially when it comes to this sort of thing” That’s fair. At the same time, that doesn’t change my position. I even told him about the email exchange I had with my boss. Yes I think my boss over-reacted, but no, I don’t think she was wrong to feel that way. He gets that too. He’s a very reasonable guy. He has his own business and he understands how business’ work. So were brainstorming about how to get around this. We decided that we would set up a time next week where I was to call him. Now next Friday, between 10 and 11 am I am to call him. I told him, that I am nothing if not reliable. For some reason, when it comes to this job, I have mad skills for getting where I need to be the very minute I need to be there. So I’m happy with that, and he’s happy with that, because he doesn’t have to call the agency. And I’ve told the agency, so they already know. Everyone is on the same page and everyone is happy. I think this is a good way to do it. I’m not soliciting, I’m calling when he is expecting it.
I ran into Andrew, at the same bar where I met him and he… I don’t even know why I’m talking about this… it’s my personal life… You want to talk about my personal life? Fuck this job. That’s what I say. I was at a car wash the other day, you know the kind where you do it yourself. I was vacuuming out my car. The guy using the spot beside me had the same motorcycle as my dad. I have a weakness for motorcycles. A serious weakness. So I started chatting with him about it. Not because he was cute, or I was flirting, just cause I’m the chattiest person of life. Ha ha. It was funny, cause I’m looking like I know shit about bikes, when that’s the only motorcycle under the sun that I know any thing about. Before he left, he gave me his number. Like I say, he’s an attractive young man, with a motorcycle, and mmmm, that turns me on! And he gave me his number! And that’s nice. But, it’s like what’s the fucking point in calling him? What. Is. The. Fucking. Point? So I call him, and we go on a date, and it will be job interview style, you know, “Who are you” “What do you do?” “What do you like?” So on and so forth. “Oh I’m a personal concierge. This is what I do. I’m not a prostitute, cause why would I tell you that on the first date?” Hypothetically, lets pretend we get to a second date, which, you know, anybodies guess… so second date, third date, and we fall for each other. At what point do I tell him that I’m a big fat liar?
There’s two things there. There are two things that he will have to overcome. 1: The reality of it. The fact that I fuck people for a living, and 2: The fact that I lied to him, about such core things. And that’s a big lie. Those are two big things to get over; breach of trust, and big issue. He’d have to be a really understanding guy. And this is something that some one could understand, but not a lot. So I go back to my original point. Why. Why should I even bother calling him. His phone number is sitting right in front of me now…
I actually got my flirt on quite a bit this weekend. There was this girl at a wedding I went to. This girl was… my type… and she was smokin’ hot, a lot of fun. She tracked down my number from the maid of honour and texted me the next morning. We talked about going out that morning but it didn’t work out, so we might go out later this week. I would like to be friends with her, if nothing else, but I would like to be more. But I go back to the What’s The Point?
I need to come to terms with the fact that as long as I have this job, I will be single. But I’m optimistic. I always hope things will work out. But that optimism continues to kick me in the ribs.
Joke of the Post: Some men don’t realise they don’t have to sell me on them. they spend a lot of time on the phone, telling me all about themselves, and how he’s attractive, blah blah blah, million dollar house, blah blah blah, mustang in the driveway, blah blah blah. I don’t care about you. I just don’t care! Also! I don’t believe you. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t believe a thing that comes out of a clients mouth until I see it. Clients lie to me daily. And I don’t care. Ha ha ha. So like I say, you can tell me whatever you want, and I will nod and smile with my innocent little doe eyes, and even if it is true, I still don’t care. If anything, you’re just making yourself a bigger mark.
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