Affairs vs Escorts
A Poorly-Argued Case for Getting Your Heart Obliterated
The GREATEST part of being in an affair, a real, good, filthy, lustful, centering, lie-to-your-boss-so-you-can-slip-away-to-fuck-this-goddess affair, is that is makes you feel like you’re 16 again. Only now you have a job and money and a much better car, and no, you don’t have the same diamond-tipped hard-on you had back then, but because you paid your taxes, coached Little League baseball and were generally a good guy, the Gods smiled down on you and discovered Viagra, so the unreliable erection is not a problem.
The WORST part of affairing is that it can make you feel like you’re 16 again. When you get dumped. Or Ghosted. Or blocked.
As hot and passionate as it was, that’s how fleeting it can be. One minute you’re convinced that your partner is the sustenance your starving libido has been hungering for… so much so that you are doing alimony math in your head… and the next, you are Googling “How To Know if You’ve Been Blocked on What’s App.”
Yeah you’ve got money now… yeah, you have stability and a career. But somehow you are shot back to a summer night in your buddy EJ’s 1980 Pontiac Grand Prix driving around town NOT crying because guys like you DON’T cry but if you DID cry you’d be wailing because she crushed you, man…. she just annihilated you.
So what next? You’ve already gone out of network.. A question arises… how far out of network are you willing to go? Well, the answer to that depends on what you need. Me? I needed sex. Me and all the other dumped schmucks who had discovered that dead bedrooms aren’t a chronic condition. Men and women alike had endured the fuckless nights and because they dared to step outside the cultural norms, were rewarded with the brilliant sunshine of dynamite sex… just not with your spouse.
So my buddy EJ with the Grand Prix? We’re still tight… we both work in TV now. He’s got three more Emmy’s and two more ex-wives than I do. I was bending his ear with my tale of woe and he just came out and asked,
“Why do you even bother with trying to find affair partners?”
“Why don’t you just hire pros?”
I had to think. I mean, I have in the past. And the fucking was fantastic. “Daphne. She was lovely. Hot even. And, while given her line of work it’s probably better to have outstanding fellatio skills than outstanding acting skills, when it came to making me believe her utterances that my cock was ‘the best cock she’d ever sucked’… well.. let’s just say she was no Meryl Streep.
And when it was done it was done. “Daphne” wasn’t thinking of me afterwards and I wasn’t thinking of — ok, I WAS thinking of her, but she surely wasn’t planning our next date or dinner or weekend trip the way my suddenly unavailable former AP would have been. The orgasm was there. But the thrill was not. So I responded to EJ.
“It’s not just the fucking.. there is another dimension to this level of high-grade cheating. We care about each other (oops, we CARED about each other.) When you spend your idle moments dreaming about the feeling you’re going to have when you knock on the hotel room door, its intoxicating, it’s living!”
“And how are you going to meet someone?” he asked.
“The same way as last time…Tinder or Ashley Madison.”
EJ added, “I believe Ashley Madison is karmic payback for hundreds of years of patriarchal oppression of women. If you ever wondered what society would be like if women were in charge, look no further than AM. Women call the shots. Men could succeed, but only if the women say so. Men are valued based not on their wit, smarts or kindness, but on their biceps and bank accounts.”
“Yeah, well fair is fair,” I nodded.
“Tell me again, why won’t you just hire an escort? It’s efficient. There’s no courting. You can’t fuck it up. There’s no pressure. Can you follow 2 steps? Here are the steps: 1. Take a Blue Pill 2. Fuck.”
“Yeah, well maybe I crave a little more. The idea that SHE really wants to fuck ME,” I answered.
“Fine. You go back to Ashley Madison. Good luck adding 4 inches to your height in the next 10 minutes. Why are they all so consumed with tall men? Every profile I read says something like “I’m 5’9” and I like to wear heels so please be over 6 feet. “ Yeah? We’ll I’m 5’9” and I don’t give a shit how tall you are because I’m not a high school sophomore.”
EJ is a bit of a cretin. He has not experienced the thrills of pleasing someone, of having them lust for you and tell you so. He hasn’t gotten any texts from lovers first thing in the morning or late at night telling you how they can’t stand to be without you for another instant. How they thirst for you and your body. That magic isn’t included in “Daphne’s” fee.
So I’ll throw my hat back in the ring and hope to punch through the throngs of horny guys looking to grab the attention of some Gold Coast Goddess. Because I know that when I do, when we connect, she’ll be thinking of me long after the Venmo clears.
