Tuesday, June 23, 2009

The Pregnancy

I apologise for my lack of posts, but, as of late, my mind has been burdened by more pressing matters; namely, my encumbered uterus.

My Spartan contraception regimen failed: I am about six weeks pregnant. Conception dating suggests that my boyfriend, not some john, is the sire, but it is impossible to know for sure.

An abortion is scheduled for early July. The post-surgical bleeding is estimated to endure for about four weeks, which means I will be unable to work as an escort during that stage. Now, I must find a way to pay the bills without spreading my legs.

Friday, June 5, 2009

The Lament of a Whore: I

I chanced upon the pinnacles of douchebaggery during my last few dates. These were johns who insisted upon pushing my boundaries (e.g. repeatedly trying to stick a finger up my ass despite my stern protestations, and forcefully attempting to rub an unsheathed cock against my vulva). Then, there was the potential john who (very insidiously) attempted to use his membership at a local escort review board as leverage for extraordinary service.

What's next? An axe to the head?

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The Accidental Primatologist

Despite posting an advertisement that very clearly states I am available on Wednesday and Friday only, why am I being bombarded with telephone calls and e-mails inquiring if I am available today (Tuesday)?

To combat this problem, I implore the zookeepers of America to suspend their chimps' internet and phone privileges.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

The Wealthy Whore?

When thinking about prostitutes, two divergent images may come to mind: (1) the wealthy call-girl who works to finance her Louboutin fetish, taste for high-rise condo-living and cocktails in Capri or (2) the desperate, cracked-out streetwalker who lives hand-to-mouth under the tyranny of drug addiction.

It seems as though the former increasingly pervades popular conceptions about the financial lives of prostitutes of the genus escort (i.e. those who work indoors and advertise their services via print and the internet). Notable prototypes include "Belle," the protagonist of the British television series, Secret Diary of a Call Girl, who in one episode revealed that she netted over £100,000 in the previous year. Or Ashley Alexandra Dupré, whose income as a high-priced Manhattan call-girl afforded her penchant for designer couture and holidays on the French Riviera.

Seemingly informed by such representations, in a thread found on my local escort review messageboard, one john explains why he refuses to tip escorts:
"I won't tip them ever. Why? Let's look at it this way: $150 per client. Say 4 clients a day. Say 5 days a week (weekends off, lol). 4 weeks a month...
150x4= 600$ a day
600x5= 3,000$ a week
3,000x4 = 12,000$ a MONTH


[Obviously], I think they are pretty well-off and don't need an extra 20 bucks from me"

According to this analysis, escorts do very well financially, so much so that surgeons and lawyers might want to question their choice to invest $100,000+ in formal education when they could have just posted an ad at Erosguide and spared themselves the woe of student debt load.

But, how well does the 'wealthy whore' representation reflect the reality of most escorts' financial fortunes? Is it just another part of the popular mythology about prostitution, like the universality of childhood sexual abuse and drug addiction? Inter alia, competition among sellers (i.e. escorts themselves) and risk aversion (e.g. turning down potential dates with dubious johns) often act as barriers to wealth accumulation in this business.

In my own experience as an independent escort (one with a very modest advertising budget and one who has never received a bad review), I gross an average income of about $1,400 - $1,600 per month (based on an hourly rate of $200). While I receive about a couple hundred inquiries each month, many, if not most, are rejected because they have failed my screening criteria. Perhaps I could increase my client volume, but only at a tremendous risk to both my peace of mind and security.

I'm not starving, and, indeed, I'm not toiling over a deep-fryer at a fast food restaurant, but I'm certainly not able to finance holidays in Capri (nor afford legal counsel should I ever be busted by law enforcement for my 'debauchery'). At the end of the month, my rent is paid and my belly is full, but there's very little left for any luxuries.