My dad used to drive a Ford Escort. After that he drove my mother to insanity. Now he drives around in circles whenever he comes to visit me because in 60 years he never learned to parallel park. He’s also probably reading this right now at 2 in the morning with something sugary in his hand.
Fortunately for him I am not about to divulge his deepest, darkest, strangest secrets. What I really want to talk about are another kind of escorts, the kind you find on the Internet or in newspaper advertisements; the kind you hope don’t have testicles.
I am not sure how many men use escort services. What I do know is that many do. Often times late in the day my coworkers will sit around looking up different women on an escort service website. Look at me, making this whores sound refined. And look at me again, making it seem as if my coworkers don’t do it in the morning and all day long. Now I am in charge of collecting their phones from them because my job is to basically be the bad guy. I enjoy being the bad guy. They usually go into Wrestlemania as the champion.
Have I ever gotten an escort? Nope. Have I thought about it? Of course I have. I also spend most of my time on public transit thinking awful thoughts, half fantasy and half to see if I will cross minds with a mind-reader, which I never have.
It strikes me as odd that males my age who insist they get “mad tail” would need to pay money to get “costly probably infected tail.” It strikes me even odder how much guys try to impress each other with machoism when it really just comes off more like they want to fuck each other. I have it in good faith that at least one of my coworkers writes fan fiction about us all getting it on.
(Seriously, watch this video)
I don’t think I would ever get an escort. I enjoy cuddling. I enjoy eating junk food and watching movies. Yes I enjoy other things you can do with a woman or a small man in a wig from behind. I am human after all. Escorts, or “goddamned dirty shameful sluts” as their jealous daddies call them, are not something I have near the top of my list of needed experiences. It’s too risky and there’s nothing a woman can do for me that a hole in a teddy bear cannot.