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A New York Escorts Confessions
Thanksgiving. Or Not.
They had the stringbeans with the Cream of Mushroom soup. And the sweet potatoes with the marshmallows. And the cranberry sauce that was shaped like a can.
I had been debating all morning what to do. I couldn’t very well tell Mom on Thanksgiving about what her boyfriend had said to me. I was thinking my best bet was to avoid Neal entirely. I was too afraid I would scream bloody murder if he made another inappropriate comment.
Keeping quiet, though, is not my strong suit—unless of course it concerns my own identity. I had to talk to someone. Pete.
I pulled him aside by a plate of deviled eggs. “Okay. I don’t know how to tell you this. Right before you and Jen got here yesterday? He used ‘jew’ as a verb.”
“Neal. As in ‘they really jew you out that way.’”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s a racist!”
He paused. “You’re amazing.”
“What—me? What are you talking about—”
“You can’t just leave it at not liking someone. He’s got to be a racist, or a rapist or evil—”
“Wait. You—you’re—you’re saying you think I made this up?”
“I’m saying you hear what you want to hear.”
“What the—that’s ridiculous! Why would I come up with him saying such a hateful—”
“Do you know you didn’t say one word to either me or Jen about us being pregnant? Not ‘congratulations’, not how far along are you’— “
“That’s because I was worried about what to do about Ne—”
“No Alexa. It’s because you were worried about you. As usual.” And he turned and walked away.
I was going to cry. I was going to cry in this strange place by myself. Could they really think I was that mean?! Of course I was happy for them.
“Okay! Everyone to the table,” Cynthia said. “We have place cards!”
Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, Cynthia had placed me far away from my family. I seemed to be sitting with the hostess and her girlfriends.
“Can I just introduce you to him at church on Sunday?”
“She’s so stubborn. Hi, I’m Mamie.”
“Alexa. I’m Bonnie’s daughter.”
“Oh! The New Yorker.”
“I’m trying to convince Cynthia here to go out with my neighbor Mark. He’s a very nice divorced man.”
“Who I’m not interested in, Mamie.”
“You’re single aren’t you Alexa? Tell her how hard it is to find a good man.”
“Um. Oh. Uh—maybe she’s not ready yet?” Hadn’t Neal said her husband died only three months ago?
“Nonsense. Stan was sick for a year. They talked about this. He would want you out there honey.”
“There’s no one here I’m interested in. I just—I have to make peace with being alone.”
“No you don’t!” we both said in unison.
“You never know who you’re going to meet. You could meet someone at the—at the library—or the supermarket. Tomorrow .” I said.
“I suppose that’s true sweetheart but sometimes it’s hard to believe it. I think this is why so many go gay.”
“You know I read that.” Mamie said.
I. Was. In. The. Twightlight. Zone.
Neal began tapping a glass. Everyone quieted down. “To Cynthia, our host!”
“To Cynthia!” everyone said.
“Let’s gather hands.”
I thought about Pete’s previous advice to think of clothes at this moment. Instead I was going to take comfort in prayer. One of my own:
I am thankful…I don’t live in a little town in Virginia.
I am thankful…my mother is happy. Even though she’s dating an anti-Semite with a homophobe sister.
I am thankful my family and I are healthy and happy and together.
I am thankful Pete and Jennifer are going to be blessed with another child.
I am thankful for the rich life someone has seen fit to give me, one full of wonderful, open-minded friends both in solid form and on the Internet (Thank you!)
I opend my eyes and began to push whatever it was around on my plate. Miss Manners must have said it once: no one wins by making a scene at Thanksgiving. I think I was right not to say anything. But if I was, why do I feel so gross?
new york escortsconfessions
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So why am I writing this blog? I have an inner exhibitionist that just needs to be let out. I've always wanted to bare myself completely in front of strangers but have always been held back by fear.
As strange as it may sound, I've never really truly bared myself in front of any of my clients. For all that they've seen, they've never seen me be me. And for all that I've seen, I simply need to share it with you!
So why should you come? To be tantalized and teased. To get release by knowing the true me.
I promise that I won't bite, and if I do bite, I'll make sure you like it!
my favorite posts
- Caveat Vendor - Part II
- Selling Out (Part III)
- Poops!... I Did It Again!
- My First Escorting Experience
- My First Lesbian Experience
- Daddy's Little Girl (Part II)
- Selling Out (Part III)
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- November 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
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