I am a pretty vanilla 20-something girl.
I am spiritual but not religious, I volunteer, I’m close with my family, I take care of foster cats and I never even had sex until I was 22.
What I am saying is that, I don’t identify with what probably comes to your mind when you think about a prostitute. I’m only poor in the 20something sense–not the actual sense. I wanted money to pay a few bills and buy clothes with. I hadn’t been able to afford a new clothes in a long time and I was sick of having to pay such close attention to my budget. Silly, right?
It was around this time that I met Chris at a bar. I talked to him for a few minutes but it was closing time and my friends were leaving so we exchanged numbers and I left. Later that night, as I was texting Chris while laying in bed, I found out he wasn’t local. Chris had some fancy finance job and was only in the area once a month. He wanted to have an NSA relationship with me because he was always traveling and didn’t have time for a real relationship. I told him I wasn’t interested.
And then he offered me $2,000. For one night.
We’ve all had those conversations with our friends: “would you sleep with someone for $2,000?” “Of course not! I’m no hooker!” In the hypothetical it seems so black and white, but when this proposition was right in front of me, I could think of only a few reasons why I should say no. It’s illegal, it might be wrong, what if he murders me? Is he going to give me an STD? But $2,000 is a lot of money to me.
I said yes, at first just to buy myself more time to think about it since he would be gone for quite awhile anyways.
I usually go with my gut, and it was giving me a green light.
We traded texts and pictures a lot in the next few weeks. I really liked him, actually. This guy was cute. He was my age. He told me he loved me, which I thought was really weird (and did not return), but I figured that must be why he’s paying me. He just wants to feel loved even if he knows on some level that it’s fantasy. I might have even played that game for free, because it broke my heart a bit.
When the day arrived, I wrote a note and left it on top of my computer in my room containing the guys full name and the web address of his LinkedIn in case my instincts were entirely wrong and I didn’t make it home. I brought pepper spray too. This could have been a terrible decision, but I’m pretty good at judging people’s character and there was nothing angry about this guy.
We’d talked about a specific scenario he wanted to have happen. It was a sex position he had never tried before. It was pretty vanilla, actually. He came twice in 45 minutes and then I left.
When I was driving home, I felt powerful. I thought I would feel guilty afterwards, ruined maybe. I thought at least some of that money would go to therapy. But I’ve had no second thoughts about my experience. I made this guy really happy, he made me happy. I’m not sure what the big deal is.