UnderWorld

It is indeed a completely seperate universe, working as an escort. Planning your day can consume you, but I never hated it. It sometimes gave me a reason to get up that day. I wasnt seeing new clients since I had that scare 2 years ago..when the cop made me move out of the apartment I used to see clients. I didnt escort for almost a year before I went back to it and regained a few past clients I had. I considered them to be friends, because AFTER we always talked about life, kids, families…just life. I know, wierd, isnt it…lying there under the sheets talking about family, after what we just did. I know.

But you see, partly what I was there for was intimacy and sharing. Not just the physical aspect of it…but the gents loved that I didnt gripe about what Jr. did to his little sister and the water heater is busted and the bills are due yesterday and he left the toilet seat up again and that I was sick of it all. Nothing negative was exchanged…just laughing and silliness. Seriously. And sex. Things she refused to do because she thought it was wrong or dirty. Because the teachings she had as a young girl in the Catholic church taught her that good girls just dont do that, even for your husband.

He didnt want to feel like he had to beg for what he felt two people can do in private and if she did do it, feel bad for asking her to, knowing she hated it and couldnt wait for it to be over.

For me…I got out of it much more than that. I felt beautiful, I felt desired. I felt like he wanted to be with me, even for a little while. That he truely was interested how things are for me, the look of focus, my words, his expressions. Questions that opened up a new world for me to expand on…and he (they) made me feel like a real woman. Empowering to know that what I did…what we did…really meant something. The only thing that the money did was draw the line of involvement for both of us….that though some fall for me or care…that the money said…I enjoyed our time, but I have to go now. The money drew the line that conveyed a silent message of no expectations beyond what we shared while we were together. I understood that.

So that evening, as so many evenings before and to follow, Id return to my life of soccer games, of laundry and errands, to a cold, unfeeling, non-sexual marriage. I stopped crying a long time ago. The biz confirmed to me that there is nothing wrong with me…but with him and his lack of desire. Seeing the others took some of that pain away.

I think he loves me, we’ve been together so long. We have great kids and we are wonderful, involved parents. He’s a great father to them. He just doesnt want me. Desire me.

So now, I lay still, recovering from that horrible experience with the court system and the investigators, wondering what to do now.

So my therapist says…maybe you can take up photography? Find a creative outlet for all of this restlessness. I said, yes I love that but I have absolutely no motivation. I see no light right now. I want to…I want to be whole again, feeling like I did at the top of my game when I was a high-class prostitute. Now, no purpose, no feelings, no money.

For now, I just come to you, spewing my words onto this page. An outlet.