Sounds Like a Winner
I’ll be the first to admit it.
I was extremely annoyed with the Gentleman.
We hadn’t seen each other in a month. He had called to cancel our last appointment with a voicemail which sounded harried and urgent. He said something was going on and he couldn’t talk about it. I wondered if someone—a parent, maybe—had died.
The following weekend he emailed, wondering when he could call me. Sunday night he phoned. He’d had a very big health scare, but later found out that it was nothing serious. I expressed relief and scolded him for not getting regular check-ups.
He was very chatty, and I had time. We talked for about 30 minutes and set a time to meet for the coming Friday. The Gentleman, in his hangdog way said he didn’t suppose we could spend the whole afternoon together, could we?
“I would need to leave by 2, but we could meet as early as you’d like.”
“I would like to have a lot of time together, but the earliest I could meet would be 11.”
He checked out his work schedule and hotel reservations, emailing me on Wednesday. We could have the room from 11 on Friday; does that still work? We can figure out the $ to suit [me].
I replied that 11 would be perfect, he should figure the “$” at three hours and that I was looking forward to it.
Right then I was a little put off. I shouldn’t have to tell him what my time costs, it should be understood and once the initial agreement is made and never discussed.
He phoned Thursday evening. I guess he didn’t read my email, because he asked about money. I replied that we were scheduling a meeting for three hours. He hesitated at the figure, saying it was a lot of money.
“It’s a lot of time.”
“I guess I was hoping you’d give me a discount for that much time.”
“Listen, if we were going to be spending more than several hours together, or a weekend, that would require special negotiations. Three hours is three hours.”
“Maybe we should just meet for the normal amount of time, then.”
“Which is what?”
“Ninety minutes… I don’t know… What do you think?”
I could not believe this. I took a breath and counted to ten.
“What I think is that you should fully consider what you say before you speak. If you can’t afford three hours then please don’t suggest we meet for that long. We agreed to a day and time, I cleared my schedule for you, which really is about six hours including my travel and preparation time.
What I think is that you should realize that I don’t take our arrangement for granted. I am happy we can get together and I take great care in making sure I look and smell and taste nice for you. I enjoy planning our dates because I want you to have an amazing time.
When you call the night before, uncertain if you can afford it, that tells me you cannot afford to respect me or my time, and that is unacceptable to me.”
“I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”
“I am frustrated with this situation and disappointed that I made plans which are now uncertain. You have cancelled appointments in the past and I have continued to see you, because I enjoy our time together. You have exceeded our ninety-minute time limit on several occasions and said you felt badly but have made no effort to compensate me for the extra time. That is my own fault, and something about which I should have been very clear from the beginning.”
“Well, now I’ve ruined it for you, haven’t I?” said Eeyore.
I sighed.
“Cara, I’m sorry. Can we meet as we originally planned?”
“I’ve lost track; what was the original plan?”
“Three hours. From 11 til 2.”
“Yes. And this is really the last time I want to have this conversation.”
“You’re right; you’re so much better at this than I am.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow; goodnight.”
I know that other escorts and sex workers will probably say I am being too nice and should cut him off. If I had other sex clients I probably would. But I don’t. And the prospect of making my rent in one day was a hard one to ignore.
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I was extremely annoyed with the Gentleman.
We hadn’t seen each other in a month. He had called to cancel our last appointment with a voicemail which sounded harried and urgent. He said something was going on and he couldn’t talk about it. I wondered if someone—a parent, maybe—had died.
The following weekend he emailed, wondering when he could call me. Sunday night he phoned. He’d had a very big health scare, but later found out that it was nothing serious. I expressed relief and scolded him for not getting regular check-ups.
He was very chatty, and I had time. We talked for about 30 minutes and set a time to meet for the coming Friday. The Gentleman, in his hangdog way said he didn’t suppose we could spend the whole afternoon together, could we?
“I would need to leave by 2, but we could meet as early as you’d like.”
“I would like to have a lot of time together, but the earliest I could meet would be 11.”
He checked out his work schedule and hotel reservations, emailing me on Wednesday. We could have the room from 11 on Friday; does that still work? We can figure out the $ to suit [me].
I replied that 11 would be perfect, he should figure the “$” at three hours and that I was looking forward to it.
Right then I was a little put off. I shouldn’t have to tell him what my time costs, it should be understood and once the initial agreement is made and never discussed.
He phoned Thursday evening. I guess he didn’t read my email, because he asked about money. I replied that we were scheduling a meeting for three hours. He hesitated at the figure, saying it was a lot of money.
“It’s a lot of time.”
“I guess I was hoping you’d give me a discount for that much time.”
“Listen, if we were going to be spending more than several hours together, or a weekend, that would require special negotiations. Three hours is three hours.”
“Maybe we should just meet for the normal amount of time, then.”
“Which is what?”
“Ninety minutes… I don’t know… What do you think?”
I could not believe this. I took a breath and counted to ten.
“What I think is that you should fully consider what you say before you speak. If you can’t afford three hours then please don’t suggest we meet for that long. We agreed to a day and time, I cleared my schedule for you, which really is about six hours including my travel and preparation time.
What I think is that you should realize that I don’t take our arrangement for granted. I am happy we can get together and I take great care in making sure I look and smell and taste nice for you. I enjoy planning our dates because I want you to have an amazing time.
When you call the night before, uncertain if you can afford it, that tells me you cannot afford to respect me or my time, and that is unacceptable to me.”
“I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”
“I am frustrated with this situation and disappointed that I made plans which are now uncertain. You have cancelled appointments in the past and I have continued to see you, because I enjoy our time together. You have exceeded our ninety-minute time limit on several occasions and said you felt badly but have made no effort to compensate me for the extra time. That is my own fault, and something about which I should have been very clear from the beginning.”
“Well, now I’ve ruined it for you, haven’t I?” said Eeyore.
I sighed.
“Cara, I’m sorry. Can we meet as we originally planned?”
“I’ve lost track; what was the original plan?”
“Three hours. From 11 til 2.”
“Yes. And this is really the last time I want to have this conversation.”
“You’re right; you’re so much better at this than I am.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow; goodnight.”
I know that other escorts and sex workers will probably say I am being too nice and should cut him off. If I had other sex clients I probably would. But I don’t. And the prospect of making my rent in one day was a hard one to ignore.
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posted by Cara @ 5:16 AM
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