April 21, 2008
How It All Started part II
As promised I’m here to finish my story about how I began all of this escorting business. But first I want to thank all of you from twitter who have written to me and shown your support.
Where was I? It was very early in 2002 and I was doing whatever I could to make ends meet. I was spending a portion of every day at the beach, getting to know the surfers, occasionally getting myself out there as well. In case you were wondering, the Pacific Ocean is cold! And it was often cold and windy at the beach. I’d bundle myself up and sit reading, sipping my latte and enjoying the feeling of cold sand between my toes. I became a bit obsessed with anything that had to do with surfing. I could name all the major breaks throughout the world and recognized all the world class surfers in all the wetsuit ads. I began haunting all of the surf shops and surfing themed cafes all along Ocean Beach.
It was around this time that I got a phonecall. It was a guy I dated very briefly when I’d first moved to SF. The story there is that he was a terrifically insecure individual with some very deeply rooted psychological issues! He was Korean and apparently was so afraid of his culturally traditional parents that he never introduced his former fiance to them, who consequently died of cancer, poor girl. From the very beginning there were issues in and out of bed. I soon found that any comment I made would put him automatically on the defensive. And I’m one of the most easygoing people you could ever hope to meet. In bed it was a horror show. To start with he had a very small penis and he just couldn’t seem to get hard. I’d stopped seeing him after a couple of weeks of dating. So it was surprising to get a call from him.
He was about to leave SF and was having his car fixed at that moment so he’d decided to call me. I suggested that we go for a cup of coffee so that he didn’t have to hang around the garage. What a nice girl I am!
I picked him up and we drove down to an internet cafe across from the beach. I quickly remembered why I’d stopped seeing him! Snarkiness and defensiveness quickly bubbled to the surface and he was, frankly, very irritating. As I finished my latte he said that he was familiar with a site that one of the guys sitting close to us was surfing. And he said it in such an “I’ve got a dirty little secret” way that I had to get all the details.
It was a site where escorts post ads, I found out. Hmmmm. Very interesting. He began telling me about others and was using terms like “johns” and “the hobby”. Strange as it may sound, I’d always thought it would be fun to be an escort and that I’d be good at it. I just never knew how to go about it and certainly would never do anything that would mean I’d even remotely put myself in danger. One of the things I’d done to make ends meet was taking a job as a phone sex operator. Now that was creepy! My thinking then was, “hey, if I can make a buck off some sorry hornbag then why not?” This seemed to be the next logical progression.
And so I dropped off flaccid man and headed home to do a little surfing myself. What I found pretty much blew my mind. There was this entire world of “hobbyists” who go from escort to escort to escort and then write reviews about the girls. The more I learned the more I started to see a sort of profile of the kind of men who employ escorts and flaccid man fit the profile to a T: the need to feel important and powerful – not during the sexual encounter because they weren’t capable of that, either physically or emotionally but by writing the reviews! It’s actually very sick. There is an entire community of fantasists who can’t deal with their pathetic sexual inadequacy. Sick and sad.
So how could I do this but do it on my terms? How could I make sure my clients were not these pathetic “hobbyists”? I began by designing a web site – I was a web designer, after all – and positioned myself as a high end escort. It was important for me to establish from the start that I wasn’t interested in meeting with these “hobbyists” but preferred to see men for whom I was their exclusive companion. I picked up a pay-as-you-go phone from radio shack, set up an email account and posted an ad on the site with which I was now very familiar.
That very evening I had messages in my inbox.
Oh. My. God.
This was it. Do or die. Could I go through with it?