Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
But I had to do it. I come from a working-class family and my parents couldn’t afford to support me through college, so I took up escorting. It was just supposed to be a one-time thing to get me through a financial crunch, but then it turned into two dates, three dates, and soon, I was spending almost all of my time seeing men. City Girls paid for my tuition at NYU, which is an expensive private school. And when my history degree failed to get me a job after graduation, it continued to support me.
It’s sad that it’s come to this. Lots of people say they can’t find jobs in their areas of expertise, but they don’t end up being escorts. It’s just my job search flopped really badly. I love history, and I wanted to spend my life researching, writing, and ultimately informing and inspiring others through the lessons of our past. Unfortunately, it turns out nobody wants to pay someone to do those things. At least not a living wage. They seem to think that tiny stipends would be enough, so long as you supplemented it with Medicaid and food stamps. I’m not too proud to use our country’s safety net, but I’d prefer not to if at all possible.
I looked for jobs outside of my field too. The best I could secure was a barista job at the local Java Jive, and it felt really sad. I just couldn’t bring myself to be a college graduate pouring lattes for businessmen and lady power lawyers whose life dreams have already come true while mine wait on the back burner.
I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately though. Being an escort is getting harder for me, and wearing me down. It’s not the physical part because I don’t provide those services very often. It’s just emotionally draining to put a smile on my face and to pretend for hours and hours each night. I feel like a shell of a person when I come home, like I’ve just masqueraded as someone else for money.
Plus, the “dates” don’t respect me or care about who I am as a person. Their main objective is to negotiate a price for my body, and there’s no other way to look at it. This fact alone has taken a mental and physical toll on me over the years.
I also hate the fact that I basically have no love life. I’m 25 and single in New York City. I should be dating up a storm with lots of eligible men. But it’s hard to find time for real relationships when I am booked on client gigs every night. Besides, what guy would actually want to date an escort? I can’t imagine any man being okay with sharing his woman, even if it’s just for dinner and drinks.
The final kicker is that while the pay is good, it isn’t great. I make enough to live on, but I need more. I don’t want to live in a tiny apartment on a restricted budget forever. I want to be able to buy an apartment, and not rent for my whole life. I want to be able to afford a child one day, but right now, that’s way out of the question. I can barely take care of myself, so how could I provide for a baby?
Depressed, I take another slug from the bottle and pick up my phone to call my best friend Lucy. We roomed together in college and have been the best of friends ever since. I trust her with all of my heart, and have never been closer to another person. When I told her about my escorting gig our senior year, she was shocked but totally non-judgmental. She even covered a gig for me one time when I was sick, although of course, she was very reluctant.
But all’s well that ends well because actually, Lucy met her husband on that escorting date. It’s a funny story really. I sent her to a hotel bar to meet my anonymous date for the night. In a strange turn of events, the client turned out to be her dad’s best friend, which sounds like a horrible accident, I know! But you see, Lucy had the hots for Shane for a long time, and had actually fantasized about him for years. And when Shane saw Lucy decked out in my sexy mini-dress, he lost it. Fireworks flew, and the rest is history.
And they’re still together to this day. Lucy and Shane are happily married with two kids now, and I’m godmother to her kids, Jay-Jay and Harlow. I absolutely dote on those precious babies. I hope my life turns out as fruitful as Lucy’s too because now, she has everything. She’s a stay at home mom living in a beautiful, spacious penthouse with her handsome husband and two gorgeous kids. I would kill for a slice of that life. But who am I kidding? I’m a working girl, literally and figuratively, with no means of escape.