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my friend, the escort


Guest the romance kid
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Guest the romance kid

now, the real reason i'm trolling this website, for the first time in some time...

 

this afternoon a friend from college -- a woman i hadn't spoken to in a year or so -- reported, with more than a hint of scandal,

that our mutual friend from schooldays had been supporting himself for years now as a "male hustler".

 

what an odd sensation it all gave me. what a flood of memory it brought on too. and, i suppose, some more lasting sense of confusion that is manifesting itself here.

 

for as long as i can remember, i've been profoundly drawn to escorts -- prostitutes of all kinds -- wanted them as comrades, really, as much as objects for hire. i know i'm opening myself up for fire, but the truth is i've always been more than a little in love with the idea of escorts -- kind of envied and admired them.

 

and i'm not at all sure why i'm even writing this. but i guess i'm unsure how or what or if i should even say anything at all to my friend (the escort, if he even is). i haven't spoken to him in a year or so; and if indeed he has been escorting, he's certainly never remotely mentioned it.

 

and of course there are greater ironies here -- this guy was the first friend of mine who came out. i was always the guy with the girlfriend, he came on to me again and again, and i, uh, never went. though he was, and still is... well, one hot man.

 

aaaargh

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For years I was in love/lust with a priest my age. We even went to Europe together, and I can still remember watching him sleep on his back in the hotel in Florence with the slit in his pajama pants stretched open to reveal that dark nest of thick fur inside. He had a dick big enough to accommodate a brain in its head. I would wake myself up early so that I could watch it begin to stir with its early-morning stretch, moving all on its own as though it were coming to life, looking like a pound of kielbasa, lying there waiting to be eaten for breakfast.

 

Of course I never did anything about it; I never mentioned it; I never mentioned my feelings; I always assumed that they would never, ever, have been reciprocated and that he was fully committed to celibacy. Then I learned quite by accident that he is gay; I learned that he had a lover; and I learned that he had come out while still active as a priest (he had a liberal and saintly bishop). By then we lived several hundred miles apart; but the next time I had the chance, I went to see him, and I told him everything I've just told you. It was a wonderful thing to have done. Even though I still fantasize about him (he's now in his early sixties), I am so glad that I got it all out. It brought us closer and cleared the air and, most of all, completely erased my self-generated guilt. I also had to confront the fact that I have a fantasy about priests the way others have a fantasy about cops or firemen. Priests and veterinarians, too, to be specific. And as I am a regular church-goer and as I have too many dogs, I encounter priests and vets all the time. I like care-giving, nourishing men who are down to earth, even "earthy."

 

Maybe if you speak with your friend from college he will volunteer the fact that he's an escort. Especially if you tell him that you, well, want to tell him some things about yourself. He can respond or not. But the important thing is that you will have gotten this out in the air. Until you do, it will haunt you. Clearly, this whole business strikes a note deep inside you; you owe it to yourself to find out why that is, what this is telling you about yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and I can't see that you'd have anything to fear. Why not begin by telling your friend that you now regret that you didn't encourage him more when he came on to you?

 

You'll probably never stop thinking about this until you do something about it. Hope this has been helpful.

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