coffee

A few simple emails, text messages, and uploaded photographs later, I had three dates for coffee.

The first was a no brainer.  Some guy offered me $250 in cash just to have coffee with him.  Feeling a bit like a kid being led into an alley for a glimpse of something really neat, I kept the possibility that the man was an axe murderer close at hand.  He gave me the money up front, which was actually really neat.  Then we talked about his property in the Caribbean.  I smiled, nodded, batted my eyelashes a bit to throw him off; meanwhile I was thinking yeah if we go down there together I will definitely end up in little pieces.  I mean, there’s a 95% chance this guy just wants to cheat on his wife.  But as we had our coffee and I half-listened to him talk about what he does and what he owns and what he wants, I started to create rules for myself in this kind of situation:

1) No married men.  I am not going to involve people (a wife, kids) that could be hurt by a situation like this.

2) I don’t want to work with someone who wants to “take care of” me.  I can take care of myself.  When money is given in exchange for something–companionship, sex, what have you–you’re working, honey.

Second guy.  Another cup of Joe.  This guy seemed sleazy, and his shirt was too tight.  Regardless, (I hate my tendency to people-please) I agreed to meet him that very same night for a drink.  Which led to a kiss.  I’ll not be seeing him again.

3) I need to be at least slightly attracted to him.  I’m not that good of an actress.

Third time’s the charm.  Or so they say.  If this one’s an axe murderer, he’s a fairly cute Ivy-League educated one, with a very young and nervous sensibility about him (despite being in his mid-forties at least).  He actually seemed slightly depressed.  I hope I can offer him the companionship he wants, although I think it’s pretty naive of him to think some girl he’s paying to be his girlfriend will lead to love.  Stranger things have happened, though.

I think I’m seeing him again this weekend, so we’ll see.  I’m actually sort of looking forward to it…nothing wrong with doing work you enjoy.  (But who knew I’d ever in a million years say that??)

Introduction

location: NYC

year: 2010.

This is a (true) story about a recession and resources, about a city where anything is possible, about a recently graduated Women’s Studies Minor at an esteemed, gated, buttoned-up university, about sex with significantly older men, about sushi and Broadway and wine.

(It’s not quite all the way true–yet.)

It began with a casual conversational reference, a passing thought, something mentioned on a flying train, a friend of mine; a website.  The Economy of Female Sexuality in the Information Age.  Wouldn’t that make a great dissertation?  I would love to write this blog and then write that dissertation.  But I digress.  She mentioned this website, which out of discreetness I won’t link to here, but I bet you can find it.  If you Google.  Seeking.  Arrangement.

The next day, or maybe a few days after, I decided to peruse the site.  I also found myself Craigslisting a lot; I had just quit my job and was looking for what we all hope to find: a job where a significant amount of money can be made in a disproportionately small amount of time.  So we can spend more time writing.  Or pursuing other such crafts.  I considered cocktail waitressing, but I have no experience.  I sent my information to an egg donor site–which is a topic for yet another Women’s Studies thesis.  And, more out of curiosity than anything, I created a profile on the website my friend had mentioned.  It was one, harmless little egg in a nest of many.  Then I left the country for a spell, and sort of forgot about the research I had done.  I put thoughts of the eggs, waiting to hatch, out of my mind for the time being.

But then, as always, I returned to New York.  This time with almost nothing in my pocket (or checking account, or savings account).  I knew I had to make some money, and I knew that I could–easily.  Recession or no recession, there is a lot of money in the city.  I’m pretty hirable, I’d say, with or without bartending experience.  So I set off on Craigslist again, and within a week I had a couple of interviews for various retail/customer service/waitressing positions.  Which…I…canceled.

I couldn’t stomach the idea of long shifts for little pay anymore.  I was no longer willing to sacrifice my sanity for a roof over my head and enough food to eat.  I know that sounds counterintuitive, but hear me out.  My travels had changed me.  I realized that my time was worth something.  Worth a lot.  And instead of getting down on The Economy of Female Sexuality in the Information Age, I thought about how I could make it work for me.  Wheels began to turn.  Eggs began to hatch.

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