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In three months, I saved 10 000$. Three months long ago; three months now. Three months of whoring; three months in a government job. I'm quiting the government job because I've never more felt like a whore.
I think it was 2006. I had a eureka - why don't you become a courtisane? I posted an ad on an escort review forum. Well, not an ad, a question really: I've been an agency escort in the past, can I become an independent? A deluge of advice. Eager clients wanting to show me the ropes. Tie me up in their Yes you cans.
I can't remember if I already had the bipolar diagnostic back then, but it was an insane three months. I was the queen of the world. I was a full-time student by day and a full-time whore by night. Oh, I only saw one client a night. And maybe, actually, it wasn't full-time; more like three or four nights a week. Three or four nights of being wined and dined by clients who strangely looked and talked like my profs. That's so fascinating... Tell me more... That kind of stuff. For some reason OWMs have always been real interested in me.
Anyway, so I think the total for three months was actually 30 000$. It's written somewhere else on this blog but I don't really care to check. I know I paid off credit cards and paid the rent for the year. I think I had 10 000$ left. Well that's what I thought of when I checked the bank account now.
Just writing this I feel light-headed. 10 000$ now. Incomprehension. I know I saved it because I had a goal: save the money and get out of there. But I feel like this stray cat I'd been feeding, captured, got fixed and brought back to my house. When he was inside he darted for the front door where he usually waited for me every morning - but on the other side. I could see it in his face. Like this weird sort of mirror physics à-la Alice in Wonderland had occured. How did I get here? Well I don't know, but here you are now.
Here I am now.
And now I can't wait for it to be over, gone, near the ocean that calls...
...The three-month high-class whoring adventure ended when I caught a glimpse of myself in this huge wall-sized mirror next to the bed I was on with a client. When I caught of glimpse of myself that wasn't myself. Cognitive dissonance.
...Government whoring? In a nutshell, what they say about bureaucrats ain't a stereotype. I'm dying proof of it. Another week to go.
I think it was 2006. I had a eureka - why don't you become a courtisane? I posted an ad on an escort review forum. Well, not an ad, a question really: I've been an agency escort in the past, can I become an independent? A deluge of advice. Eager clients wanting to show me the ropes. Tie me up in their Yes you cans.
I can't remember if I already had the bipolar diagnostic back then, but it was an insane three months. I was the queen of the world. I was a full-time student by day and a full-time whore by night. Oh, I only saw one client a night. And maybe, actually, it wasn't full-time; more like three or four nights a week. Three or four nights of being wined and dined by clients who strangely looked and talked like my profs. That's so fascinating... Tell me more... That kind of stuff. For some reason OWMs have always been real interested in me.
Anyway, so I think the total for three months was actually 30 000$. It's written somewhere else on this blog but I don't really care to check. I know I paid off credit cards and paid the rent for the year. I think I had 10 000$ left. Well that's what I thought of when I checked the bank account now.
Just writing this I feel light-headed. 10 000$ now. Incomprehension. I know I saved it because I had a goal: save the money and get out of there. But I feel like this stray cat I'd been feeding, captured, got fixed and brought back to my house. When he was inside he darted for the front door where he usually waited for me every morning - but on the other side. I could see it in his face. Like this weird sort of mirror physics à-la Alice in Wonderland had occured. How did I get here? Well I don't know, but here you are now.
Here I am now.
And now I can't wait for it to be over, gone, near the ocean that calls...
...The three-month high-class whoring adventure ended when I caught a glimpse of myself in this huge wall-sized mirror next to the bed I was on with a client. When I caught of glimpse of myself that wasn't myself. Cognitive dissonance.
...Government whoring? In a nutshell, what they say about bureaucrats ain't a stereotype. I'm dying proof of it. Another week to go.
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