An Escort's Life: Hope in Urban Life

You return to your temporary apartment, slumping into your chair with an exhausted sigh.

You have just returned from an "escort" job which consisted mostly of listening to your client explaining her husband's latest cruelties. You're talented at what you do; thus, you successfully brightened her life, were sensitive to her every need, and showed her one of the happiest times she's ever had. There wasn't any sex this time around, unfortunately for you.

But as you, even in your fatigue, pick up a valuable antique clock and gaze at its wooden shell and its porcelain face, your mind begins to wander. How nice it would be, you reflect, if this clock could simply go backward, and time could follow. The world was less complicated in the past, and your friends were happy.

Ah, yes, your friends. You pound the back of your chair with disgust. All of your former friends were female; fortunate considering your talent of relating to women and making them feel truly understood. Why can't they share in your money? The rich people in other cities sought you out because of your talent; why could your friends not find work anywhere but in this sinkhole?

You hastily amend yourself, as you look around your apartment as if fearing that it will come alive to chastise you. The city is a sinkhole; your apartment is not. Your walls aren't ratty and molding, and your plumbing works perfectly. Ah, the joys of having a high-paying job, as you let out a refreshing, possibly "relieved" breath.

You came back to this city to reunite with the friends from your younger days. They are now all adults, and their accomplishments have been less than stellar. With what you've heard about the paths their lives have taken, they might as well be part of the sterile but beautifully gray walls that comprise your living quarters. You're an "escort;" maybe you can cheer them up. You were able to find a way to succeed financially, so perhaps you can help them do the same.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door; it's a door-to-door salesman. You are too heavily into your contemplation to give him the time of day, and you politely but firmly get him to leave. Suddenly, you throw your head back and start laughing out loud. What an antiquated notion, going door-to-door to sell your products! If only this city could afford the Internet, that salesman would not have spoiled your relaxation. How ironic; here you were wishing on a clock to go back into the past, only to have the past intrude upon you for the same reason you wished for the return of your simple life! That reason is also simple, you think in a non sequitur; this city, Fahrenheit City, is almost as poor as it gets. How lucky you are, to have escaped this city!

You cringe. That was a selfish thought, wasn't it? But then, you have become partially selfish as of late, but other-oriented as well, and the two almost become mixed. You take out a woman to a nice dinner, but you're secretly hoping for sex. If she has sex with you, you take pains to make it wonderful, but the ones who don't do not irritate you at all; you wish them good luck and a pleasant day. You sometimes have trouble deciding whether you are selfish or selfless; you don't begrudge anyone who doesn't give you what you want, but when they do you take it gladly. Oh well, you suppose it doesn't matter.

After a pleasant night of sleep, you are awakened by a "gimmick" alarm clock, one that sings the "Sound of Music" instead of buzzing. Jenny's gift to you on your graduation day, of course. Come to think of it, you received many gifts that day, simply because your friends cared about you. A pair of boxing gloves from Arachne, a Russian cookbook from Pilaf, and an encyclopedia from Maxine.

As you toss the straw-based, short blankets aside (you are well-off now, but not quite "rich", so can only spend so much), you stretch and do your morning exercises. Gotta keep your body fit, after all, or who would want you as an escort? Today's the day you reunite with your friends. But secretly, you're hoping for something else. You have what other, foolish men would consider a "dream job", but while you are the EXPERT at providing the intimacy that other women need, not many of your clients ever do that for YOU. You're always the "nice guy to talk to," not the guy seeking a "nice girl to talk to." Secretly, you wish for ROMANCE. All of your female friends are rather attractive in their own way, and this is not diminished by what you have heard about their current adult lives. You hope to fall in love with one of them, possibly months from now of course, and have the girl love you back in return, so you can have the personal intimacy and PERMANENT companionship you've been craving. Hopefully, sex will follow, but you can wait forever, metaphorically speaking.

But why think of romance now? One step at a time. Temporarily, like a chef separating eggs from butter, you separate the unselfish thoughts of your brain from the selfish ones. Your friends must miss you; don't keep them waiting. But they all work at different jobs now, so...