A couple of months ago while visiting the swells up in Westchester, I had an interesting conversation with a financial planner who upon discovering my occupation, felt it appropriate to ask lots of question (what else is new?)...before going on to confide that he himself is more into the thrill of the chase than the actual conquest when it comes to women.
That might work for him - but it's definitely not my MO. I couldn't help but think how I am the complete opposite. The thrill of the chase is completely lost on me. I'm simply down with the joy of the conquest! And it's not necessarily because I have no game. It's just that when I see a pretty girl, I want to get to the good part - and right away! And all that dating...and movies...and meals...and theater etc. is not the good part. I guess I'm just antisocial that way.
My mother used to complain to me all through my youth (and actually to this day) about my father's "ways"...and that he was an adolescent who used to date hat check girls before they met...and that all he cared about was sex and mingling with blue collar type of guys. Interesting! I won't comment any further.
Moving on...but related to the previous discussion...let's talk about the meaning of patronizing escorts - or "mongering" if you will. There's one reader of this blog who looks down his nose at anybody who takes the plunge. He thinks we're all a bunch of losers...which I find bizarre as he reads this blog (WTF?!?!) and once admitted via e-mail that he called an ex-FWB of mine and jerked off while he spoke to her - and then did not go to see her! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! And I'm not sure that anybody who criticizes our lifestyle doesn't have a similar twisted pathology - and would be better served not throwing stones.
Personally, I view my participation in the escort world as therapy. If I'm down about something..or heartbroken (which I rarely am at this point in my life), the professional I seek to help me through doesn't put me on a couch. She puts me on a bed! I don't need to be "shrunk." I need to be "plumped."
I'm just not one for therapy in the traditional sense. I have no interest in paying two hundred bucks to tell somebody my troubles. I'd rather give it to a hot babe because I know she'll make me feel much better than a psychiatrist will. But that's just me. My point is that what works for some doesn't work for others.
A long time ago (back when I drove a cab occasionally even though I had a full time job at Action), I picked up a fare who recognized the name on my hack license as the same guy on the masthead of Action magazine. For fifty bucks worth, we rolled around in circles so he could gossip with me about all the Action girls he's "seen" from my employer's rag. And after he was all done, this very articulate and educated man confessed that playing with escorts was his brand of recreation, fun and therapy. "Some guys play golf...and some have a fancy, expensive boat. Me? I like to spend my money on escorts." Couldn't have said it better myself!
So anyway...(enough with the bull shit) and pursuant to my own particular ethos...I sought a little therapy with CHANEL from JONY last night. And like wow! Was that a therapeutic union or what!!! BTW...I was wrong about her booty. It's booming! And of course, detractors would scoff at this empty experience. Yeah...whatever! I should sit around bored out of my mind with a girl I spent way too much time courting so that I could finally bed her. Again...I don't need to pass go. Take me straight to the good part! I'm out with an obscure tune from Herbie Hancock appropriately titled "Gettin' To The Good Part."