Alyssa explains it all

I need to get this written down while it’s fresh in my mind, because Alyssa’s story is beautiful. When I relayed Paul ter Haar’s comment that he could have any girl he wanted, that sparked an idea in Alyssa’s mind. She made a few calls, then called him back. He answered the phone by saying, “So, are you ready to give me what I want?”

“No,” she responded icily. “Here’s how it’s going to go down. You’re going to destroy whatever business cards you have in your possession, delete my number from your phone, abandon all your demands and threats, and forget any of this ever happened.”

“Fuck off,” ter Haar sneered. “Why would I do that?”

“Because if you refuse, we go nuclear.” ter Haar tried to scoff at Alyssa’s language, but she rolled right over him. “First, we get rid of the Google Voice number. That will leave you with no support for your story except Jenna—who isn’t going to back you up, since you’ve thoroughly alienated her—and business cards with nothing but ‘Andrew’s’ stage name.”

“Stage name?” ter Haar demanded, baffled.

“Sure,” Alyssa shot back. “You don’t imagine we put his actual first name on there, did you?”

(It’s not technically a lie, though it’s certainly misleading. I actually go by my middle name, and always have. Neither I nor my parents like my first name, but it’s a family name from my mother’s side, and they felt they had to give it to me—they were trying to patch up some broken family relationships. It didn’t work. I intend to change my name, but I haven’t done it yet; in the meantime, I’m in all of BSU’s records under my actual first name, not Andrew.

(As an aside, when I do change my name, I’m thinking of taking Campbell as my new middle name—it’s my mother’s maiden name. It seems to me it would be appropriate.)

“Second,” Alyssa continued, “we make sure you never date on this campus again.”

“Really,” ter Haar responded, trying to sneer; his efforts were undermined by the uncertainty and unease leaking into his voice. “How do you propose to do that?”

“We contact every client and tell them we’re shutting down, and why,” Alyssa went on in that same icy voice. “We tell them who you are and what you’ve done, and we ask them to tell every girl they know. We have clients who are high up in the sororities; the sororities will tell all their members, pledges, and hangers-on not to date you. We have clients on BSU’s women’s teams; we have them spread the word among their teammates not to date you. Before long, every woman on campus will know that there was a man on campus who ate pussy for money, no strings attached—and that his services are no longer available because of the greed and malice of Paul ter Haar. They’ll also know that you’re a controlling bastard who mistreated your girlfriend.”

“I never—” he tried to interrupt, but she rolled over him again.

“You can say that until you’re blue in the face,” she said coldly. “You won’t change anyone’s mind about you.”

“I don’t believe you can do it,” he blustered. “I think you’re bluffing.”

“Would you like me to prove you wrong?” Alyssa asked. “I can have hundreds of girls call you, starting today, and tell you just how serious I am.”

“Score!” ter Haar cried. “I’ll have hundreds of girls’ phone numbers! Sign me up for that.”

“And they will all hate you,” Alyssa snapped back scornfully. She could just about hear him crumple, but he rallied himself and kept fighting.

“I still think you’re bluffing,” he said gamely. “You don’t want to face the consequences if I report you.”

“Wrong answer, jackass,” she replied derisively. “You don’t know my name, and you don’t know who ‘Andrew’ really is. With the number no longer in service, you won’t have anything even to find us, let alone to make a case against us. And if you get lucky enough to identify us anyway—well, just in case, I’ve made a copy of your phone message. You know, the one where you said, ‘Pay me half your profits or I report you.’ That’s ****. Or maybe it’s extortion, I’m never quite sure of the distinction. Either way, it’s a felony.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed. “It would be just as bad for you.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Alyssa hissed back. “What would it prove against me? Nothing—except that you think I’m guilty of something; and that would already have been proven long since. You, on the other hand, would stand convicted of a felony by your own big mouth.”

“If you do that,” ter Haar said desperately, “I’ll release a recording of this conversation.”

“Don’t ever play poker, you putz,” she responded acidly. “You can’t bluff worth a damn. First, if you had been smart enough to record this conversation, you would have mentioned it long before this. Second, I haven’t made any threats against you that are legally actionable. The same cannot be said for you.

“But go ahead if you want. Make your accusations to the Dean, and tell her we tried to **** you. Let this get into formal proceedings, and it’s bound to go viral, probably on a wide scale. People all over the country will hear about it—and they’ll all hear that you’re a big jerk, and the women will hear that they shouldn’t date you. Throw in the fact that you’ll be making yourself a laughingstock, and you might as well become a monk, because your dating days are over.”

After a long silence, ter Haar said sulkily, “Alright, I surrender. You win.”

“Good,” Alyssa replied in a voice that could peel paint off the walls. “And if you should happen to get the idea to tell someone else and have them start making accusations, bear this in mind: if anyone makes trouble for ‘Andrew’ with the Dean of Students or anyone else, I will assume you are behind it and respond accordingly. Do we understand each other?”

At this point, ter Haar truly gave up. Alyssa could barely hear him when he said, “Yes.”