It's Always About the Money

I have no time left at the end of the day and it's tiring. Before the move, I had excess income, now I'm peddling on Saturdays to make ends meet. But, when I get my back against a wall I'm either going to strategize--or I might be getting paid for it.

Dre is not gay. Way, way, way overthinking on my woman brain. Women can't help it. We jump to conclusions, make irrational decisions and either yell at your or keep it all inside and passively aggressively beat you up. I usually keep it inside for awhile until the bipolar moment passes and I realize I was all wrong. Saves a lot of apologizing.

The escort pimp, as are many professed benefactors, is full of shit. However...finally snagged a goldmine. Long story short. Client wants to be my boyfriend and save me....blah, blah, blah. The usual. But this guy actually has a lot of money. He's saved my ass to the tune of about $7,000 in the last month. Shaking my head! He wants to get married, help me with the kids, get me into college...I almost feel sorry for him, but he's kind of an idiot. He met me through one of my ads and knows what I do. He only knows where my apartment is, not the house that me, Dre, and the kids live in.

And not to be pretentious, but he's ugly and I'm not. It's one of those couples together that you say, "He must be really rich." And guess what? He can't even have sex. But, whatever, he's a grown man. I just think of him as a client and give him the experience he is paying for--sans wife and kids. Dre thinks it's a great idea and this will give us enough cash to go to Hawaii next year. He wants to buy me a minivan, for the kids. Not my first choice, but knock yourself out. My conscience got the best of me at first, but then I realized he's like every other man I see. He has a fantasy and for the amount he's paying me I can give it to him. It's not like he's spending his life savings, he is really, really, rich.

Gay play and da pimp

I think my boyfriend may be gay and the owner of an escort company wants to date me. I think I'll have a drink.

He Wanted to Be Eaten By A Vampire

I am looking for a sensual sadistic body rub where your massage table is also your dinner table, and I will lay there for you to eat. I'd like you to be close to nude- panties okay, and massage my back as you tell me that you are preparing me to eat. You can climb on top of me, and rub against me, and nibble at the back of my neck.

Then turn me around and massage my face with your mouth- like a sensual vampire, licking and sucking her prey- just my face, nothing else.

Last half, straddle my face, and sit on it as you massage my front. Smother me, occasionally repositioning yourself so I can breath. I want to feel relaxed as I believe that I am inside your belly.

I am not asking for sex in any way, even though this is very sexual for me. I am looking for a full hour at least- Please let me know if you are able and willing to accommodate, and what the rates would be.

Thank you for your time.

In the beginning...the boyfriend and the X

Continued from previous post...

A month before I was introduced to escorting, I placed an ad on Craigslist for a "No Strings Attached" relationship saying I was looking for a black man that was tall. My only requirements. I met Dre and never intended to see him for long, yet a little over two years later we have a solid relationship. He's my best friend and we're in a really good place. I eventually, slowly revealed that I was doing this but he had no idea how much and after telling him, we haven't discussed it again. I don't think he suspects I do it anymore and I'm not going to clarify.

Brandon (my ex-husband) disappeared from the kids life last November because he was "too busy." I think it had to do with the fact that his parents finally put their foot down and told him he needed to be responsible for his own kids. He had never taken responsibility. They lived with his parents on his joint custody days from day one. He'd show and make an appearance but his mom cooked, shopped, cleaned, did laundry, took them to school and picked them on his days. She took them to church activities during the week as well (on his days).

About 2 months ago I took him to court to change custody to Primary and ask for child support. It was granted last month and September was the first month I received anything. He comes by once in a while, but it's scarce. The kids are happy with that and don't really want to see him anymore. He drags his feet with paying me on time, so I don't count on it.

Right before school started this year I was able to move us from the studio apartment we lived in for three years to a 3,100 square foot home with 4 bedrooms, 3.5 baths, a jacuzzi and a pool. Dre and I brought them to the house and surprised them. They were screaming and jumping and so excited. They each had their own rooms. They sacrificed a lot for young kids. I mean, can't complain it's not like we were living in a third-world country, but for Americans we were living in very cramped quarters. I also live two minutes away from Dre now so it's easy to see each other--once, sometimes twice a day. We like having our space and still being able to see each other all of the time.

I didn't bring the business to the new house for practical reasons but also because it would be difficult to be discreet living in a cul-de-sac that only has four houses on it in a and HOA. Eyes are everywhere. Of course no one knows I still have the apartment, but it's the perfect location and so discreet. I basically go to work everyday. I only do incall. I get locals that way so I'm not seeing different men all of the time and they'll work with my schedule. It's also much more cost-effective especially with my limited time. Never see the neighbors at the apartment and everyone keeps to themselves. It's on a part of the complex that will not get any traffic except the tenants that live on that side. So I'm paying close to $3,000 just in rent for the two houses, but business is good.

And now, here we are...except for the part about my mental health issues. Maybe next time.

In the Beginning...I still went to Church

Continued from last post...

I still went to church every Sunday at took my kids. I've never stopped and I really like the church. I like the family values, the service, and most of all speaking in front of people. I always told my Bishop (the man called to preside over a congregation--which is a volunteer position that lasts 3 to 5 years sometimes) and the Relief Society President (the woman called to preside over the women in the ward/congregation) that I was not worthy to hold callings and that I was barely hanging on getting to church. I didn't want to work on anything--which was true. I just didn't want to pretend that I was worthy.

By definition, I am an active member but I don't participate the way a member is able too because I don't keep the commandments required by the church to hold callings. I drink and obviously being an escort doesn't qualify me. I was in a poverty-stricken ward and in three years never had home teachers (two men that visit your home once a month to check on your well-being and deliver a spiritual message) or visiting teachers (two women who do the same). I was okay with that because I wanted to stay under the radar. I love the Mormon church and all of their values. It's the church I was raised in and I raise my kids that way. My kids have all been baptized when they turn eight and we go every Sunday.

To Facebook...or not

I've been going back and forth on starting a Facebook page. It's easier to incorporate my blog and twitter to Facebook--so for practical reasons it makes sense. But at the same time--I wanted to use this as a diary of sorts and that just seems like I'm coming out. Don't get me wrong, I know people are reading this, it's just a confessional with posts and when I'm writing I feel like it's just me and the journal.

A blog seems to be sitting somewhere in the internet galaxy, but Facebook you can actually see who's following you and they can like your posts or troll or say mean things. I don't really care because I feel like a character and this part of my personality is not all of who I am. Plus, I don't blame anyone for criticism it's just that with bipolar and other mental health issues you don't have a button in your head that tells you something is right or wrong. You learn how to act and behave by watching the rest of the world. I'm just as enthralled with my life as the next person. I can't explain my life or my decisions, I can just write the reality and tell it truthfully.

The other thing is that I am talking incessantly. It annoys me at times. I will talk just to talk. If there is no one to talk to, I just talk constantly in my head. I haven't started talking back to myself yet so I supposed I haven't completely moved into Crazy town. Spilling it all online helps empty some of the words in my head--as if I have a goal I'm trying to reach each day to hit a certain number of words. I don't know which mental disorder that comes from. I think I'll try to disclose all of my mental health issues sometime.

In the I got started

Continued from last post...

A friend at the time, confessed to me that he was a male escort. I was wide-eyed and my jaw dropped. He had a cover, which I learned later that every escort does. He told me I could have my rent paid in a week and I said that there was no way anyone would pay me for sex because I wasn't 20 and didn't have the body for it. Besides, I never in my wildest dreams imagined I would be a hooker. It just wasn't a level I was ready to sink to. He assured me that I'd have plenty of business if I wanted it. I said no, and kept looking for legitimate work. Six days before my rent was due, I called him and asked what I needed to do. He posted ads and answered every single one of them while I stared over his shoulder asking questions and nervous as hell. There were acronyms and code words to protect yourself from saying you were selling sex for money so I was constantly asking questions. He showed me the ropes and apparently there are a few of them.

My very first client was at a hotel on the strip. I had a few drinks before I met him and then had drinks when we met. He was older, white, and at little shorter than me. Not attractive, but not repulsive. My friend hovered in the casino "just in case". He instructed me to inform the client when we got to his room that I needed to call in and check with a friend simply for safety purposes and I did. I was nervous about what I was going to have to do and the advice my friend had given me was to be a slutty as possible and everything would work out from there. The few drinks previously helped.