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A New York Escorts Confessions

I scrambled to find the receiver.

“Hey. Ow. Fuck. I just jammed my finger. How are you?”

“I’m knocked up that’s how I am.”

“Oh. Oh my God—”

“Oh save it. The little bastard’s got me barfing up anything that isn’t nailed down. I told James if he’s such a spiffy scientist he should stop looking up telescopes and start coming up for a way to carry this thing himself.”

Tash, God love her. While any of my other friends would have cooed or cried or expected me to squeal with glee and propose a shower, Tash was her same old hard-edged self. She was my very own real life Miranda.

“Alright then. We need to talk about Ted.”

“You are—you’re calling at the crack of dawn to talk about Ted?”

Our friend Ted had arguably been going through the world’s worst divorce for about a year now. We’re talking restraining orders, lawyers who had unexpectedly dumped him as a client, liens on accounts, you name it. I had been sympathetic at the start, largely because I had never liked his wife Vanessa to begin with. Plus it’s always tough to see someone you care about in so much pain. To a point. After the upteenth four-hour monologue complete with crying fits and prolonged hugs that made me a little nervous, I couldn’t take it anymore. I just stopped returning his calls.

“I know he’s a pain. But I really think he’s gone round the bend.”

“This is the longest bend known to God and man.”

“No. It’s worse now. He’s been fired.”

That made me sit up and wipe the drool from my face. After years of working as a struggling theatre director, Ted had finally landed himself a position at a college upstate. He thrilled to the challenge like a man who had finally found his calling. It had been the one bright spot in his life.

“But what do you mean? What happened? He was doing so well there.”

“I don’t know. I’ve only heard pieces. But they’re might even been a lawsuit—”

“What?!”

“Ohhhh. I got to go get sick again.”

“But wait—what happened?”

“You’ll know what to do. It’s a sex thing. Your department.”

And she hung up.

I tell you there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret telling Tash what I really did for a living. Now she was obviously confusing me with some kind of sex therapist. But she had gotten me curious. Ted, absent-minded, mild-mannered Ted, some kind of sex fiend?

I decided to pay him a visit the next day at his Hell’s Kitchen apartment. He bounded to the door as soon as he heard my voice. When he threw it open, he was buck naked.

“You’re here!”

“You’re…uncircumcised.” He threw up his hands and gave me a big hug. Then he pulled back to look at me.

“Oh does this bother you? I’m just feeling really comfortable naked these days. If it bothers you I’ll put something on.”

“Uh that’s okay.”

“Come on in. You want some espresso? I just made some.”

So me and the skinny, small and hooded-dicked man sat like conventional people and sipped coffee.

“So what’s up? Tell me everything Alexa. It’s been a while.”

“Um. Well—” I tried to not look at IT but IT was exerting some kind of magnetic force on my eyes. “Nothing really. Things are good. Life at the magazine is good.” I thought the cover might be good in case Tash had vomited out my profession along with her cookies. “Oh. One of my friends just opened a store and gave me a free designer bag. That was nice. And you?”

“I’m great. I just feel like—you know—I just woke up one day a few weeks ago and thought I know who I am. I’m Ted. You know? It was completely a revelation.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I had no idea what he was talking about. “Um, Tash said that there was something that happened at school—. He cut me off with a wave. “She said it might be a big deal—”

“It’s this idiot other teacher at school. She lives here too, so I invited her to come over here so we could talk about the student show we were co-directing. And she freaked out. And then everyone else freaked out. That’s it.”

“Okay. Were you wearing clothes when this happened?”

“No. But I asked her, just like I did with you, if it was okay. And she said it was. And besides it’s not like—the Fed Ex guy didn’t freak out. My neighbor didn’t freak out.”

“But she’s a co-worker and that—”

“She was just pissed I didn’t come on to her. She never could deal with me as a man.”

He said it with a challenge in his voice. Jesus. I could just see this poor woman confronted with this when she came by. I was surprised he hadn’t peed around her in a circle while he was at it.

As for me, I thought a different tactic might be in order. “You know Ted. There’s places where being…unclothed all the time is completely accepted. Um. Maybe you could go on vacation before the suit. I think the Naturist Society—”

“Forget it.” He grabbed my coffee cup, walked to the door, and thrust it open. A man with a dog from the floor above passed by without a glance.

“Ted. Wait. It’s only because I—”

“You know what Alexa. I’m not some fucking hippie. I’m Ted.” He closed the door with a slam.

Oh boy. How do you do an intervention for a man who just won’t put his clothes on anymore?