Shortly after moving to SF…I received an offer I couldn’t pass up, actually could – and did. You see, I got the offer to be a call girl, or escort if you will. In my naivety I didn’t quite understand what that was until I did more research on trusty omniscient friend named Google. In college I was told by a friend’s mother that I would make an excellent call girl. I took it as a compliment (implying I have a charming personality to match my looks) and have been carrying it with me for several years. Alas my chance arrived in the form of a proposition at a bus stop and when the moment came turns out I just don’t have what it takes to be one.
I don’t consider myself a romantic, but apparently I am. Being paid to entertain with my personality works just fine, however, being paid for personality and possible physical intimacy, not my thing. While I don’t judge women who decide to take this route, I still want sex (or making love if you will since I have just confessed to being romantic) to be something shared with someone I feel intimately connected with non-physically first. (All of this aside, I would be required to wear acrylic nails and more than likely have to shave my legs more regularly – no thanks!)
While I realize confessing this offer on the Interweb may not be entirely appropriate considering it’s still somewhat of a hush hush topic, but it was a defining moment for me about what I will and won’t do for money. I hadn’t thought much about it until now. It appears I will not be on call, and now actually know what that means.;)
Today I’m grateful for umbrellas, soup, and lots of tea.