My Online Male Courtesans, Their Idiocy  

Posted by H in ,

Yes, *my* online *male courtesans*. Not G.'s. Mine.

Since I've joined Facebook, I get a pretty decent amount of requests for people to become my friends. And considering my profile picture could be a little misleading (and that the average IQ of the world's population depressingly seems to be going down at rocket-speed), guess what percentage of that charming population is male?

Bottom line, every time I connect, I have idiots (in general) asking me immediately for online sex, or private encounters, or trying to "charm" (laughing my ass off here) me with the dumbest pick up lines ever invented.

I thought I'd do a small compilation of these, but I could not resist but to post the last one I received: gf is goin out of town next month...let me know if your free?...can meet up sometime...stayin at orchard rd..cheers

Isn't that plain sweet? Not only that guy wants to pay for sex (ethics subject to debate here...), but also obviously only does it behind his girlfriend's back, and most importantly is sending that to a dude (me) who quite despises this job and even more the gentlemen like him on the other side.
That picture was just so surrealistic that I couldn't help to laugh...

That being said, sometimes some interesting conversations come out of these improbable encounters, and idiots like the one I just mentioned probably wouldn't even go as far as to buy sex from me if I really were an escort and are just looking around and satisfying their curiosity. And the rest are just lame online players who are lurking around for some hypothetic bimbo dream girl who would be hovering around the Facebook limbos, waiting for such a desirable White Knight.

It sort of makes you loose all hope and respect in humanity.

Anyway, sorry for staying below the radar for a while. I haven't been reading nor writing in almost a month, waiting for G. to come back. Well, actually I have a few things lined up, that I wrote during the last month, but I never got around to posting them. I'll try to do that soon and tell you about what happen to G., me, and us in general lately. And until then I'll try to catch up with all the blogs and articles I haven't been reading.

In the meantime, I'll see who else wants to date me online, or wonders if I do bareback or if I would be available on Friday for Hell knows what...

Her Third Life (Getting a Grip ... or Not?)  

Posted by H in

Last time we left G. on this story line, she was now in cruise-control-mode to become a high-paid stripper. She did not intend to keep doing this forever though. But she still wants the high-life. The dilemma remains.

When she's not half-drunk every night or half-baked every morning, she realizes that she misses deeply some parts of her life, some things she enjoyed doing when she was a normal child, not that long ago. And she longs for it, and considering she's got the money, she's decided to get it. She sets aside enough money to get started with her passion and develops her talent in that area of hers. She sleeps until late in the morning, is a very dedicated self-taught artist in the afternoon, and during the night.

When she reaches, quite rapidly, a satisfying level of mastery at her art, she makes it to another city where she enrolls in a prestigious and expensive school under her real-name.

Things start to get straighter, for a while, but there's this constant fear of seeing familiar faces appear at every corner. Strip-club clients, violent ex-boyfriends, manipulative ex-girlfriends, and above all fearsome relatives. Cars and strangers seen from afar who remotely recall scenes from past times and now really distant places still force her to turn into dark-alleys and brace herself for unpleasant encounters, until she relaxes and walks away. She never completely lets go off this fear.

But then the studies is more expensive than she thought, and studying during the day and bar-tending and stripping at night is not that easy. It worns you out quite quickly, and now that she has found her profound career call, she doesn't want to let go.

She gets out of school temporarily to concentrate and making cash and get back in. When she's at school, she's 100% into it and amazes teachers and peers, both for her very uncommon and sometimes odd and uneducated behavior - as if she would not be aware of the standard social boundaries - and her dedication to tasks at hand. She's not a typical straight-A's student, because she does not focus on every aspects of it, but the ones that care don't leave much room for improvement.

But the better she gets, the more work it requires, the more time, and even the more travel to attend events. And, naturally, more money.

And she goes heavier than ever on alcohol and drugs, the sacred elements of creativity in artistic spheres, and the only pieces of enlightenment and joy one can get when working like a mad person without any external sources of entertainment, if you except the mere pleasure of attracting more and more attention as time goes by, and to feel more and more pleased yourself by flirtatious and sexual encounters in your underground scene.

After a while she cannot take it anymore: she needs money to reach her goals, more time to focus on them and enjoying life, and more of both to go back to the high-life she misses so much, the one where before her 15s she could afford to really rent places on her own without concern in fancy towers in city centers. She wants the clothes, the party time and the fun back, because art is more about passion than fun, and work is just depleting.

So, when you are a tall, foxy and not so innocent girl about to enter the second half of your teens, and you need a crazy shit-load of money without working a freakishly high amount of manhours per week, what do you do?

Our First Encounter (Part 2)  

Posted by H in ,

This is a follow-up to "Our First Encounter".

Yes, you got the final part right: I got kicked out of the freakin' room!!

That was sort of unexpected. I mean I was of course already starting to have my nebulous brain trying to figure out what all that happened just meant, if we were on the one-night-stand basis or the possible fuck-buddies road. But damned, usually I get to spend the night until breakfast or lunch, or to get away with a leaving if she doesn't want me to stay and it's clear that there's nothing there.

But when we're both in a guy's house for 2 days, where the hell am I supposed to go? I thought sharing the bed was so logical a solution that there was not even a need to discuss it. Apparently I was wrong.

Please show yourself to the door, miss G. doesn't like cuddling, kisses and the embrace of the drunken lover.

Or at least that's how she used to be.

The next day was the weirdest ever. I didn't mind it that much, but apparently she did. The kicking-me out part gave me the impression I was not welcome for the rest of the journey. Apparently I was. Well-done, dumb-ass, way to pick up the signals!

We barely spoke 2 words for the rest of the day until we all got out of the house to the cars to take us back to the city. Everybody apparently carefully avoided to look at any of us, which I did not notice, and thought was completely normal (I don't care about people, sorry). She thought it was horrible and even a bit humiliating. I'm still trying to apologize for that... I had no clue, and she looked like such a strong person and like she was the one who started the whole thing, that I never had the impression it could have looked like I just used her and ditched her in the morning.

It's only at that last moment, when we were about to step in separate cars, that I finally came to my senses and thought that for once I could make an effort to bring something valuable into my life and not fuck it up and opened the car's door for her and asked for her number (scared shitless, again, ladies and gentlemen).
I was always so scared of having that thing happening in my life, and always ran away from it, that I have no idea what made me think that could be different.

Some would say it was just meant to be, that we recognized each other, or something of the sort. I don't know, and I don't believe things work that way. I think I just took a chance. I think she played with me that night, and I went for it; and I think I took a chance in the morning, and that she went for it too.

That's about it. I don't know why, I felt like sharing this.
We still can't explain most of what happened.

I'm missing her right now.


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My Girlfriend is an Escort

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