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A New York Escorts Confessions
Paralysis Bound
Last week I got a call from someone new. “Hi Alexa. This is F. I’m a friend of D’s?”
“D! Oh my God. Where is D?” The guy had just about dropped off the planet.
“He got switched to our Tokyo offices. He sends his regards though.”
“Oh well. Please please send him mine.”
“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner sometime?”
Of course I would. A friend of D’s is a friend of mine no questions no exceptions. And this guy already had won me over with his tentative, formal and deferential manner. Besides he had also invited me to one of my all time favorite restaurants, Aquavit, a long-standing Swedish place in midtown. I dreamt all night of herring samplers and the horseradish aquavit I had had with it the last time I was there.
When I got to the restaurant on the appointed night, I looked around for a man matching F’s description of himself—sandy brown hair, green eyes about 5’10” in a black suit. Who knew, maybe he’d even be cute. I couldn’t immediately see anyone who fit the bill though. The hostess eventually lead me to a table off to the side.
To a man who was in a wheelchair.
I was confused and probably looked it. Wouldn’t you mention ‘wheelchair’ if you were in one?
F interrupted my thoughts. “Didn’t expect that I’d be in a wheelchair, huh?”
He said it as a challenge, almost with a sneer. I was flummoxed. He didn’t sound a bit like the sweet and shy guy on the phone.
“Well no but—F?” Maybe this wasn’t him at all.
“Right. Because people in wheelchairs don’t date or have sex drives, do they?!” This had the possibility of veering horribly off course. I tried to adjust. “No sir. I saw Murderball, I did. Wouldn’t think that for a moment.” I smiled my brightest smile.
F—or the person now impersonating him—seemed impervious to my charms. In fact, he seemed to have the deepest well of venom I had seen in quite some time. Man. It was like another thing sitting next to him at the table.
“Forgive me. I was only surprised because you were very specific on the phone about how tall you were and you—”
“I am 5’10”!”
I breathed in and counted to four. “You’re right. You are. So nice to meet you.” I turned to the waitress. “Can I have a flight of aquavits?”
Yeah. It was going to be a long night.
After a bunch of fits and starts to the conversation, we finally got going. F talked about how long he’d been in New York and how he liked living in Park Slope, where he had bought a townhouse about a year ago. He had hired one of the city’s top interior designers and was thrilled with the result—a place that felt old world but was also flooded with light. Offhand he mentioned the phrase, “before the accident—”
Accident. The second he said it his face changed. He looked down. Swallowed hard. I kept eating.
“I bet you’re wondering what happened.”
“No. Of course—”
“I was changing a light bulb.”
I looked up. Jesus. Life was so ridiculously unfair sometimes. It hurt to even look at him. I opened my mouth—
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”
I stared down at my plate. There was at least a full minute of silence.
“I can’t believe this.” he finally said.
I didn’t respond.
“…I had girlfriends. Before. Women loved to be with me.” Another pause. “You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I—”
“And now I’ll have to hire whores for the rest of my life.”
It stung like a slap.
Goddamnit. In one full swoop he had dumped the sum total of his own ugliness and anger onto me. I felt pinned by the weight of it.
But not for long. I signaled for the nearest waiter. When he arrived, I gave him my credit card. “Hi. I’d like to pay for what we’ve had so far. I’m going to go to the rest room. If you could just bring the check to me at the host station that would be wonderful.” Then I turned to F. “Good luck to you.”
I knew his outburst had nothing to do with me. He probably had had a host of women since the accident giving him looks of pity. Looks that probably cut like knives.
Rationally I knew that. But irrationally as soon as I hit the pavement outside the restaurant I broke into a run. I let the reassuring noise of my heels clicking away on the pavement carry me all the way home.
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confessionsComments
Wheelchair or no, he sounds like an angry jerk. Probably was "before the accident" too.
Posted by Moonlighting Escort on Apr 18 10:19AMThat's too bad, it sounds like he at one time had something going for him but has allowed the accident take away much more than the use of his legs. He laid a trap for you by not mentioning the wheelchair. Virtually anyone would be taken aback a bit in the position in which he put you. He clearly had his attack fully prepared, in the chamber, with the hammer back, ready to fire. Some of the providers I have known are "wheelchair accessable".
He used you as a pincushion for a problem that is his alone. The lovely thing about self-pity is that it is so sincere.
Life shovels shit on us and some people choose to live with the stink rather than find a way to remove themselves.
-G
Posted by Garrison Steelle on Apr 18 01:15PMGodDAMN what a jerk.
Someone should tell him about the manwhore on wheels who lives near me. I swear this man has a trail of women constantly following him around - if F would dump the sulking childish act he might learn that legs aren't everything when it comes to attraction.
I completely agree with what other people have said.
I have a deep amount of sympathy for this man -- I cannot imagine having to deal with what he has now been faced with.
But for him to treat you as he did, was simply uncalled for. I hope that your very classy handling (for which I commend you) of the situation helped pierce some of what he built up inside him.
Posted by Alice Kramden on Apr 18 11:55PMChair or no chair ... the guy behaved like a jerk. The really sad thing about that encounter is he is too wrapped up in his story to see that he was the problem, not you.
In a way, it's too bad the liason didn't come to the logical conclusion. Once done paying for his session, he might understand there is a very large difference between escorts and whores, especially in the fees charged to jerks...
Posted by wil on Apr 19 02:27AMI am sitting in the wheelchair as well. And what should I say - please excuse my French - he is an asshole.
To have an accident like this is one thing. To be rude or to make someone some kind of responsible for it is the other. Personally I have an different view on the things - doesn't he know what his handicap / accident has given him for life?
A change in life like this isn't just a fall - it's a rise as well. And you acted the right way, I probably would have given him a slap in the face.
Posted by Ergit on Apr 19 03:48AMSounds like before the accident he was probably a shallow, self-centered, ass. Stripped of teh abilities/ qualities he relied on to draw people to him and make himself feel like a person he became angry. He is sure people don't like him because they can't see past the wheel chair when the problem is there wasn't that much there to like before the accident. 2 lousy cents from Jeregano
Posted by jeregano on Apr 19 11:48AMOk, so I know, I'm gonna go to hell for saying this...but Alexa...girl...the fact he was in a wheelchair?! That is just too funny! LMAO! I know, I know, but OMG, I can only imagine what was going through your mind when your eyes bestowed his Stephan Hawke like image...but yeah. I agree with everyone else...the guy was a total jerk. Too bad he couldnt get passed his disability to find out what a sweet gal you are...
Posted by David on Apr 19 01:57PMI can relate. I'm a stripper. some guys(who usually are wealthy) just can't help but pin down others, so that they can satisfy some deep neurosis of theirs. at least this one had a wheel chair to blame.
Posted by silvia on Apr 19 11:54PMWow. Sounds like the fun night - not.
I'll echo everyone else's comments and say that you did the right thing by picking up the check and getting the hell out of there.
I'm meaner than you, though. I'd have given him a therapist's phone number and told him to call me once he'd been in therapy for a few years and made some progress.
Let's face it; before being black, white, crippled, old, gay, sick or whatever, we are human beings and basically human beings are jerks.
Jerks who were afraid of this guy for being in a wheelchair, jerks who celebrate what's different in this world as long as it's not in front of them, jerks like him who lash out at the world for the pain that they endured.
Sucks for him, maybe one day he can find people who care for him and not for what he possessed or used to be.
Until he realise he hasn't lost everything, no one should be is human punching-ball.(Nor after)
I guess it would have been uncooth to have locked his wheels and pushed him over.
Damn. I hate political correctness.
Posted by Jeff on Apr 22 07:44AMPost a Comment

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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.
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Ouch! good for you for not accepting the baggage we all have enough of our own!
Posted by Rex on Apr 18 09:17AM