Posts Tagged ‘meet & greet’

All it takes is a smile…

"…my left brain knows that all love is fleeting…"

Attraction can be a strange thing. Sexual cues can be ambiguous, and men usually read them wrong. Research shows that this may be something that’s hard wired into us. An evolutionary loophole. A new study to be published in Psychological Science seems to show how wrong we are sometimes. The bottom line apparently, is that the more attractive a man finds a woman, the more attractive he thinks he is to her. Regardless of how attractive he really is. In other words, if he thinks she’s hot, he tends to think she’s hot for him. Imagine how this gets compounded when a woman’s job is specifically to show interest and arousal… whether she actually feels it or not.

No one single issue is more hotly discussed, debated and deconstructed than the issue of falling in love with a hooker. More than ‘the meaning of GFE,’ more than ‘to shave or not to shave,’ guys will expound interminably about the idea that someone could fall in love with an escort, whether or not it’s a good idea, or even whether it’s even possible. As with almost everything else related to this “hobby,” they’re all experts with no experience.

Fell in love once and most completely…

I have that experience. I fell in love with a girl. A working girl. It started out as so many other encounters with escorts, before and since. An arranged meeting in a 5-star hotel, the call from the road to confirm, the call from the lobby to get the room number, the slight nervousness upon knocking on the door. But from that moment on, there was nothing average or ordinary about it. I knew. But more than that, we knew. We knew there was a real connection, a connection beyond the paid-for genital docking maneuvers.

Sure, every guy thinks, at least once, that the hooker really has feelings for him, mistaking a job well done for real affection. It is, after all, her job to make you feel as if she really finds you irresistibly attractive, that you’re the greatest lover she’s ever had, the greatest conversationalist, that all those orgasms wrenched from her were real, and that for that one hour, you are the center of the universe. That’s not what this was. This was the real deal. I’m sure you’re thinking that I allowed myself to be deluded, just like every other poor sap who’s been hooked by a hooker, strung along for ever increasing payouts. And I’ll tell you this: I’ve been in many different relationships in my life, from casual to long term to legally binding. The long term relationship I had with this woman was as real and emotional and true as any. More so than most.

But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading…

Can a “hobbyist” fall in love with a hooker? Can a hooker fall in love with a trick? It all comes down to this: can one human being fall in love with any other? This is what we are. There are real people behind the screen names and assumed personae. And real people sometimes fall in love. But, feelings can be misleading. There’s more than one hapless “hobbyist” paying a girl’s rent or making her car payment or ‘putting her through school’ so she can stop hooking and be with him. She’s a good girl, she is.

My hooker girlfriend and I were together for almost 5 years. Never in that time did I pay her rent. Or make her car payment. And with the exception of that first meeting in that hotel room, I never paid to make love to her. That was a transaction conducted with “Insert Working Name Here.” Everything after that was a relationship with “Insert Real Name Here.”

There were hard times, good times, fun times. We went to movies, we went to lunch, dinner, grocery shopping. I invited her to my company Christmas party, and afterward laughed together about the co-worker who had brought an obvious paid date. We talked about the future, our future, and marriage came up more than once. I met her family, and spent time with them during birthdays and piano recitals. We hung out with friends, went to parties and social events. Often, those social events were work-related. Her work. There were more than a few meet & gropes we attended together during our time as a couple. Sometimes we would arrive separately and ‘accidentally’ meet up. Sometimes we arrived together under the guise of a paid date. Usually, I would let her work the room, making business contacts while I sat at the bar, buying drinks for escorts I had no intention of ever booking. I let her conduct her business. My business sometimes had setbacks, just like everyone else in a shaky economy. She helped me out when I needed it, she had a keen business sense.  And, because I know you’re thinking it, let me be clear, I wasn’t sitting home profiting from the fruits of her labors.

This is where most guys get mired in stereotypes. The conventional wisdom is that any man who is romantically involved with an escort must naturally be taking her money. Money earned on her back or on her knees. I tend to think that most guys have those thoughts because that’s what they themselves wish they could do. They only see the allure of having a hot babe who goes out and fucks for money, at their direction. Ironically, that mindset is why most of those guys have to pay for hookers in the first place. They can’t see the real women behind the pussies. Whether its an escort or a wife. And they treat pussies like cunts.

So, is it possible to fall in love with an escort? Of course it is. Would I recommend it? Well, I wouldn’t try to dissuade one from following their heart. Many escorts have husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends. They have parents and siblings. They are parents. Real people. Real flesh and blood and emotions. And any real person is capable of loving, is worthy of being loved. Which is why I get so pissed at the moralists, the abolitionists, the righteous crusaders. They dehumanize sex workers.

Another prevalent attitude is “I couldn’t have a relationship with a hooker unless she stopped hooking.” What this implies is that A) she’s not worthy of love or respect if she’s a hooker and B) that it’s the man’s decision to make. I never tried to get “Insert Working Name Here” to stop working as an escort. Because it was her decision. She wasn’t abused, on drugs, trafficked, coerced or forced into prostitution. It was a decision she made. And when she eventually did stop, it wasn’t for me or for any other man, it was for herself. She chose to work as an escort, she chose when and how to move on. I supported her in her choices, and tried to never make her feel as ‘less-than’ because of the choices she made. No, I’m not pretending to have been the best boyfriend in the world; I had and have many faults. But she gave her heart wholly to me, and that was the only part I cared about.

Although we were together for years, we’re not together anymore. We eventually broke up. Why? People break up all the time, for any number of reasons. Which is to say, it was probably my fault. But it was never anything related to her line of work. I said before, I’m not perfect. In fact, I can often be quite an asshole. *[ADDENDUM] What’s closer to the truth is that she tried. She tried to heal me, to set me free, and in the end, I broke her heart. I don’t pretend to have come out of this as the good guy. I wasn’t. But, hopefully, I’ve learned.* We fought, we split up. It happens. I can’t tell you the number of times since then that I wish it hadn’t happened. We remained friends, but never again lovers. Turns out, we actually liked each other, even after everything we’d been through.

I remember clearly the day, months later, sitting in a coffee shop when she told me she was dating someone else.

…she turns and says “are you alright?” 
I said “I must be fine cause my heart’s still beating” 

My heart sank. And although I wished her well then and wish her well now, it was a stunning blow. Even now, writing this, thinking about that day…

…these two sides of my brain 
need to have a meeting 
can’t think of anything to do 
my left brain knows that 
all love is fleeting…

All love is fleeting. When we were together, she often joked about getting me a professional discount if I wanted to see some other hooker. I never took her up on that. Since we broke up, she’s offered to be my reference if I wanted to see someone. I’ve never taken her up on that, either. I’ll still continue to see escorts. But she was right; she demystified escorting for me. Pulled back the curtain. I’ve had great sex with great escorts. And never had the slightest bit of that falling in love feeling with any of them. But, that’s what people do, they fall in love. It’s important to know the difference between the feelings in your heart and the feeling in your groin. I was lucky, luckier than most. Not because I had a relationship with a hooker, but because I had a relationship –a real relationship– with a real woman. A smart, funny, talented, sexy woman. An incomparable woman.

I spoke to her today, she called to wish me happy holidays. We still keep in touch. We laughed, we joked, we had a nice conversation, the kind any friends would have. And afterward, just as now, I cried because I miss her so. I loved her then, I love her now.

Deja vu.

Here we go again...

I’ve had this conversation before.

As I sit around with my other evil genius pals, planning out how to take over the “hobbyist” world, this scenario plays out over and over again. How to gain access. How to infiltrate. How to get in unnoticed. If, say, one was a reporter, a cop or just someone looking to manipulate the system, how do you get your foot in the door? Most of the escort message boards and online forums have layers of built in security. But as any Bond villain will tell tell you, it’s the simplest plans that work best. And, as any Bond villain also knows, the girl is always the key.

For whatever nefarious purposes, you’re trying to create a Trojan Horse persona to grant you access to the inner circles of the hobbyist/escort community. Well, any guy can call himself a hobbyist, but if you don’t have any well established escorts vouching for you, you’re left out in the cold. The answer then, is obvious. You need a girl. You become a girl.

From the early days of the cyber sex chat rooms, perverts everywhere have known this. The girl is the key. You can pretend to be a brain surgeon astronaut spy all day long, but no one’s gonna bite. But as soon as a girl enters the room, she’s swarmed. You didn’t really think all those hot horny lonely girls online were really hot horny lonely girls, did you?

For the purposes of manipulating the escort forums, how does one ‘become a girl’? First step, set up a website. Make sure to give yourself a sexy name. Pictures will help. You can find those pretty much anywhere. If you’re willing to steal somebody else’s pics, that is. But, hey, you’ve come this far, what do you care about stealing some ho’s content? You join the forums under your sexy new name. Participate a bit, drive traffic to your new website/blog. Make sure to talk — a lot– about how hot horny lonely sexy slutty you are. The sluttier the better. You’ll get lots of interest from the “hobbyists.” That is, after all what they’re there for. Sooner or later, they’ll be clamoring to see you. They can’t, of course, unless y’all are dying to try out some sort of “Crying Game” scenario. But that’s not a problem, because you have no intention of actually seeing anyone.  You’re exclusive. You’re all booked up. You’re much too hot and sexy to see just anyone.  And you certainly aren’t going to lower your standards for them.

The forums are mostly geared to screen out the guys. There are many reasons for the lopsided prejudice. Cops are men, rapists are men, pimps are men. And that last one actually probably has more to do with the increased vigilance of men. The ever-on-alert board mods are looking, not for the potential danger, but for the fake review. Because that’s what matters to them. Remember that. To be fair, a lot of escorts have been known to attempt to create fake “hobbyists” in order to write themselves a glowing review. What no one seems to be on the lookout for, however, is the fake “escort” vouching for… well, “herself.”

Everyone gets splattered

The shit finally hits the fan.

We’ve been going ’round and ’round about this for a while now, haven’t we? For the better part of a year, escorts, strippers, cam girls, models, bloggers, and journalists have been saying “something’s wrong.”
By then, though, the masquerade had become so real to some that every alert raised, every warning shouted, every veil lifted was met with cries of: “you’re just jealous.”
Yeah, jealousy. That’s why wave after wave after wave of real, verifiable sex workers and their advocates were saying “something’s wrong.”
What’s just as telling as who did raise a red flag is who didn’t.
There’s the usual assortment of sycophants, those who invested so much in believing the lie that they couldn’t bear to let go of their own fantasies. There are those who saw the evidence of deception and basically shrugged their shoulders and said “so what?” Then there are those who knew, who were aware that people were being lied to, that someone was manipulating the system, that people were being put in danger… and did nothing. Worse than doing nothing, some of them reveled, delighted in the possibility that harm may befall someone, even if only as collateral damage from the scandal. But that’s to be expected from the sort of community culture that treats women as door prizes.
Make no mistake, people knew. The one thing every villain needs is accomplices, co-conspirators.
But as an evil genius, you’re smart enough to not let your fake girl make the only unforgivable mistake: writing a fake review.
The lip service, the party line, the public policy is that the message/review/social networking forums exist to make everyone safe. The reality is that the only important thing is the valid review. Real women being put at risk barely raises a blip on their radar. Fake reviews on the other hand, that’s a hanging offense, on par only with being an uppity, outspoken female.

I’ve been asked a lot in the last few days about what I knew and when I knew it. Having been one of those who wrote, repeatedly, about the dangers presented by impostors, and having had some access to ‘insider’ sources. I know that there were people in a position to know that a certain online persona was a fake, a faux, a fabrication. But they were more interested in maintaing the fraudulent female than protecting the real ones. Because the presence of the hot horny slutty girl, willing to take on all comers, no matter how fallacious, was more beneficial to to their bottom line than exposing the con. Because if the highest profile, most prolific “whore” in their stable is exposed as a figment of some self-styled eroticist’s fevered imagination, then every other review becomes suspect. If you can’t believe that the girl everyone is vouching for is real, then how can you believe that the girl with only one or two or three reviews is real. Of course, the fake girl has no reviews at all; she can’t, she’s not really out there sucking stranger’s dicks for money. And if she only has one review from one guy –who’s only reviewed ‘her’– then the fantasy falls apart.
Over the course of the past year or so, I’ve written about this one particular deception. I’ve also written about others. As I look at the online escort landscape, I see more and more fakes. In light of the recent revelations, when you see an ‘escort’ with no reviews, no pictures, no website, yet pages and pages and pages of salacious stories of their exceedingly slutty exploits… that no one can verify… maybe everything is not as we are expected to believe. Throw in the overt, obvious, almost desperate attempts to cash in with book, TV or movie deals, then all signs point to “faux.”

No, I don’t know “PatBo”. But I do know that he’s not alone.

Hello, my name is Hooker Addict…

Really? You made her cum doing her doggy-style? GFE?

…and I’m, well, a hooker addict.
Well, no, not really an addict. I can quit fucking hookers anytime I want. I just do it to relieve stress. I’m just a social hooker fucker. Sure, I mostly do it in private, sure I hide it from my friends and family, sure I can never stick to ‘just one more strange pussy.’ But that doesn’t mean I have a problem.

Look, lots of guys get caught up into the whole “hobbyist” thang. Then they find themselves seeking more and more satisfaction. One hooker is never enough. Is it an addiction? I dunno, I’m just  a guy who likes to fuck hookers.

There are certainly a lot of elements of the whole “hobbyist” milieu that lend themselves to the addictive personality. I can see where it would be easy to fall into that trap. Easily accessible pussy, even if it’s paid-for pussy, has an undeniable appeal. Add to that the virtual affirmations you get from your fellow whoremongers, and it’s a slippery slope to a downward spiral. Or something.

Not too long ago, I wrote about the pack mentality prevalent among the “hobbyist” message boards. And I should know, I’m one of them. I wrapped up that commentary with a suggestion that some of my fellow whore fucking addicts may want to re-visit Step 9, a reference, of course, to the classic 12-Step programs. Meh. I write a lot of crap.

Special Delivery

Fan mail

I love getting comments from my readers, it lets me know what all y’all out there are thinking. You don’t always  agree with me, and that’s fine. You’re wrong, but that’s OK. Most comments I approve, some are clearly spam, and some are direct attacks that just go right into the trash. Generally, I welcome all comments from my readers. And even if I disagree, I’m usually amused, enlightened or entertained. Hell, I have one crazy-ass Bitch who hits my blog on a fairly regular basis to make wild hysterical comments. I’ve approved all of those. Then… then, there’s shit like this:

I opened up the big HookerAddict mailbag one day to find this waiting for me from some disgruntled fan calling himself  “Ball Smack” from Kansas, writing from what has every appearance of being a bogus e-mail address. My new correspondent Ballie takes personal exception to my attempts to denigrate the wonderful work being done by AA. Smackeroo writes:

“Wow. I shouldn’t reply to this thread, but I have to. I guess. Stop hating on everybody and go eat a vag or suck a dick or whatever your preference may be. No one cares. Your Bill Dubya campaign isn’t fooling anyone and twits like you will continue to ruin what he was striving for.

Please stop trying to ruin his mission because you feel let down.”

I.. well.. I don’t…

Step it up

Where to start, where to start.

“I shouldn’t reply to this thread. But I have to…” Isn’t that a bit like “I shouldn’t chug this Wild Turkey. But I guess I have to.”? You don’t have to. Free will and all that.

“Stop hating on everybody and go eat a vag or suck a dick…” May I direct you to Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves and Step 7: Humbly asked god to remove our shortcomings

I am not now, nor have I ever been a member or participant in any 12-Step recovery program. And I don’t feel let down. For the record, I don’t believe in them. I think they’re bullshit. I’m sure someone in the vastness of the Internets will pipe in with stories of how being a Friend of Bill W saved their lives, and I’m certain there are abundant success stories out there.  I know a lot of “hobbyists” who are, as well as friends and co-workers who are “Friends of Bill.” I still think it’s bullshit. Because I think that the core of the program is to exchange one addiction for another. You give up your addictions to booze, dope, gambling or pussy and replace them with addictions to god, meetings, validation and bad coffee.

If you’re a so-called “hobbyist” in so-called recovery, fucking act like you believe in your platitudes. Instead of blaming those dirty whores for your failings, think about humbly asking your god to remove your shortcomings. Instead of lashing out at hookers (or bloggers) maybe it’s time to once again make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves. And, having slipped from the path and hidden behind your cloak of Internet anonymity to bash, berate, degrade and vilify those hookers whom you’ve picked as targets for your vitriol, may I once again suggest you revisit Step 9.

P.S. I’ve approved “Ball Smack’s” comment.

In among the wolves.

Keeping an eye on you.

As most of you who have blogs or websites know, we can see where the clicks to our sites are coming from.There are stat trackers galore and even the most basic blogging package has a hit counter of some sort. For example, I can see what websites I’m being linked to, I can see what web search terms people are using to stumble upon my little corner of the web.

Yeah, I can see that the most common search term used to direct traffic to the ol’ Hooker Addict is tied in to an essay I wrote some 5-6 months ago. For some reason, the topic refuses to die. I can see that I’m still getting traffic from a comment I posted on another blog months ago. And I guess I should be flattered that people searching for “huge cock” are being directed to me.

And I can see when you guys are talking about me on your message boards.

Because I’m one of you.

That’s right guys. I’m on your message boards, I’m in your private clubs, I’m on the ‘men only’ boards.

I wrote not too long ago about the social horror of the Hooker/Hobbyist Meet & Greet. Social awkwardness coupled with a sense of entitlement is a bad combination. A certain local message/review board linked to my blog on a thread about meet & greets. I could see every time someone clicked that link in that thread. But I didn’t need a stat tracker to tell me I’d been linked. I could read it myself.

And then you guys kicked it up a notch. You moved the discussion to the private men only board. Here, as you so often do, you used the cloak of internet invisibility, not to look inward but to lash out. But you didn’t lash out at me, did you?

I’m watching you. I know all you guys. I’ve partied with you. Hell, I may (or may not) have commented on that thread.

You wonder why I don’t like “hobbyists”? It’s because of that behavior. The venue brings out the worst in you. Some of you I have personally liked, I’ve had drinks with you, or maybe I just had a drink while you drank club soda. But based on your behavior behind closed Internet doors, maybe it’s time you start working the steps again. Maybe make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves again.

What are you saying? Your jacket doesn’t fit right with that knife in your back? Malcontent? Off your meds? What an amusing bon mot, joking about how a certain hooker actually likes being groped! Of course, she also likes doing bareback gangbangs, but you forgot to mention that part.

I’ll keep watching you, I’ll keep writing about you. And I’ll keep waiting for you to revisit Step 9.

“You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.”

430 Reviews / 18 White List referrals

You walk into a dimly lit bar, not quite knowing what awaits you inside. What manner of creatures have been coaxed out from their lairs. Sure, you’ve lived on this planet all your life, you’ve seen some strange things, but nothing can prepare you for the motley collection of losers, freaks and bad skin.

The Hobby Party. The Meet & Greet. The Pinch & Grope.

If this is your first time attending a Meet & Greet, you may be unprepared for the array of socially awkward  misfits and wannabe pimps. Sure, if you’re an escort you’ve encountered these types on an almost daily basis, but it’s different when they’re all gathered in one place. Sometimes it’s not enough to flirt with hookers online. Sometimes you need to get up close and personal for all your inappropriate comments and inartful leering.

Just about a coupla weeks ago, I went to another “hobby” party. They pop up from time to time. It gives the party organizers an opportunity to present themselves as big movers n’ shakers in the world of whoring. I swear, these guys who put together these meet & greets see themselves as erudite bon vivants. In their minds, they’re not in a some bar surrounded by a bunch of hookers and johns handing out name tags and free drink coupons. They see themselves as the ultimate high society host.

The parties, whether its a cocktail hour or a luncheon, are often in some slightly seedy, slightly cheesy bar or Mexican restaurant. Sometimes a hotel meeting room, sometimes that local downtown broker’s watering hole. This particular one was part of the recent trend towards more ‘upscale’ doings. A trendy joint in a trendy part of town. Unfortunately, it was also in a part of town known for its gang activity. A lot of the hobbyists attending were a bit taken aback by all the police cars cruising the neighborhood. Specially in light of recent sting operations in other towns where cops have infiltrated a meet & greet. To try to counter that, the organizers have started instituting a cover charge for the guys. I guess they figure if you’re a cop you’re not gonna shell out $40 to join the party. Sure, that’ll work.

If you’ve spent any time at all on the escort discussion boards, you know that there’s a serious lack of tact and discretion and critical thinking skills. When you meet these guys in person you realize that they also have a sever lack of social skills. of course, that really shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. If these guys had skills, they wouldn’t be hobbyists. Oh, they might still be paying to fuck hookers. But they wouldn’t be “hobbyists.”

When I arrived at Mos Eisley,I decide to skip the valet parking (I’m pretty sure a lot of other guys did, too. A $40 door charge plus valet starts getting steep) so I park across the street at the grocery store. I pay my cover charge ($40!) and take a pass on the table with the name tags. Look, I ain’t wearing a name tag. Besides, I use a different handle on each of the several boards I belong to, so it’s either no tag or… well, my chest isn’t big enough for all those names.

Inside the dimly lit bar, the party is in full swing. That is to say, There’s a bunch of loud, inappropriately dressed gals circulating and a bunch of shy, awkward, overweight dudes in khakis sitting around like the chess club at the prom. True story: I once saw a guy at one of these parties, a guy who was a constant presence on the discussion boards, who would take every opportunity to comment on every single goddam topic of discussion and always–always–act like he’s the smartest guy in the room. This guy, in real life was so socially inept, that the girl he was with had to treat him like a 5 year old, showing him how to put things in his pocket so he’d have both hands free to hold his drink, wiping shrimp cocktail sauce off his chin. Had she not decided on a career in escorting, she could have been a kindergarten teacher.

Then there’s the other subset,the guys who are too cool for the room. The guy who makes sure everyone sees him drive up in his custom hot rod, or the guy years past his prime who makes a point of showing up fashionably late so everyone can see him arm in arm with the high-dollar gal. The guy who finds a strategically placed table and proceeds to hold court like Jabba the Hutt.

Being a gentleman is apparently unheard of. I guess most guys figure that having paid a hefty $40 door charge just to get in, they don’t need to be a gentleman and buy a drink for a lady. They don’t even need to be polite and have an actual conversation with an actual flesh and blood woman. And every girl there is there just for his amusement. Every girl is there to get felt up by sweaty guys in Hawaiian shirts and Dockers.

When I first got involved with the whole hobby culture, the meet n’ greets were a low key affair. Usually, one of the board bigwigs would get everyone together in the meeting room of some airport Ramada or some such. The thinking was that a “business lunch” would be an easy sell, a plausible excuse for the married guys to get away in the middle of the day. I thought it was a bit funny, naive and in its own way kinda charming that attendees were told to dress in business casual attire and tell anyone who asked that they were members of an Internet based business networking group. That thin veneer of respectability would be shattered as soon as the first girl showed up wearing something more appropriate for the bedroom than the boardroom. So a bunch of guys dressed like traveling plumbing salesmen gathered in a hotel with a bunch of hookers dressed like… well, hookers. Yep. Nothing suspicious there.

Now, the meet and/or greet is more likely to be an evening shindig. The casual hobbyist finds it harder to come up with an excuse to be out for the night. But the scantily clad girls draw less attention.

The message boards are an often anonymous way for hookers and johns to interact, and too often that anonymity is taken as a license for some nasty, ugly behavior. So you would think that when they step out from behind the keyboard and actually come face to face with those real people behind the screen names that there would be more civility. Well, you would think that if you’d never met a hobbyist.

Oh, and Han shot first.