Why Did I Even Bother?

Why Did I Even Bother?

I started dating(I lasted a few weeks), why the hell did I do that? What a disaster! My gf were giving me lessons how to behave. Some of the things I was informed to do and not do.

1. Don’t talk too much about myself, ask questions about the man, and make him feel important!

Seriously? Is the average male this insecure? Wait, this sounds like work, why would I want to engage and encourage this foolishness for free?

2. Don’t dress up too much, they will think you are high maintenance.

WTF!? Really! News flash! I am fucking high maintenance! Yes, I am and you know what else, I am really good with this. If he wants a blow up doll, he should go get one.

3. If you do have a BF, make him feel useful around he house.

Jesus Christ almighty, how the hell do women tolerate having men around? They are worse than children.

Oh, my god! How the hell do civvie women go on dates? Please tell me, what are your secrets? I can’t manage to feint interest for longer than 20 mins. The conversation about their non existent lives, them trying to impress me with what they think is their prowess!? Jesus, or the ones who can’t seem to manage to match their clothing! Talk about useless! Or are my standards that high!? Surely not?

Then there was this point when I realised I had to pretend to enjoy bad sex for fucking FREE! That was as Malcolm Gladwell said, the tipping point. Oh hell no! I am not going to shag for free, badly! So I axed that budding relationship and am once again, single, happy, and have the big bed all to myself. Am I selfish? Yes I am! And as well as being high maintenance, I am so ok with this.

Some Universal Truths About Hoing

Some Universal Truths About Hoing

 1. The minute you decide to de-ho, after sitting around looking glamorous all day and doing sweet FA, the phone will ring just as you are removing the last vestiges of make up.

2. After sitting around all day doing nothing, and finally you get a booking, during the time you are busy, you will have missed 5 phone calls all from regs, all looking to book with in the next hour. Men fuck in clusters.

3. The minute you decide to go out to do errands, no matter what time of the day, you will get a call from someone wanting to come NOW!

4. The client that pays you thousands, will take you to dinner, treat you nice, buy you pressies, asks permission to shag you once and tips. The one who books for he hour, and has to save for that hour, will shag you senseless for 58 mins, to get his money’s worth.

5. Clients will get the hump if you are running 5 mins late, but can’t seem to get why you are pissed when they book, confirm, and rock up 45mins late!

6. Guys with the he smallest dicks, always think it is bigger than it really is, and guys with big ones seem to think they are average.

7. The cutest hottest guy will come in for just a blow-job, massage, no sex!

8. The day you have the worst gas, will be the day everyone want to stick their finger, toy, dick, or tongue up your ass.

9. The day you are bleeding like a crime scene will be the day you get every large dicked client who books and stays for the full hour.

10. The day you are horny as hell, you will get every 80 yo geriatric travelling in from miles around.

11. Doesn’t matter the culture, the race, or the language. Men do not read profiles! They just don’t.

1. Broke Ass Bitches

1. Broke Ass Bitches

Lord in his heavens save me from the creature known as a Broke As Bitch-BAB! You will find these in all walks of life, and in both sexes. But the one that particularly chaps my cunt is the one who manages to find the one iota of ambition she has to get off her ass and then decides to sell it. This one is the worst, why? Because this lazy bitch is too insouciant to realise that the rest of use hos are doing this as a business and not to feed a boyfriend, pay a late bill, get a new Guess bag, or a weeks supply of weed!

So, she couldn’t careless if she is selling below market value, and offering the sun, the moon, and her ass for a few quid! Nope, it is more than she gets sitting on her ass collecting the dole, or the wage slave job she works, so it is all gravy to this female. This shit makes me want to scream in frustration!

And don’t make the mistake of pointing out to this vile little guttersnipe she is giving the farm away! No, the insults hurled at you will vary from, being too old to attract clients, to thinking this is a business and how hard and business like we are. God save me! I really want to slap some sense into the little bitches head! But I don’t bother!

Why, I simply rely on the law of averages. Which states, she is going to attract the wrong sort of clientele and that unfortunately is when she quietly disappears from the scene. Never to be heard from again. I say unfortunately, because usually it takes a nasty incident happening to her to realise all the hardened old bitches were right! No one, even a BAB should have to learn a lesson this way.

I will not for a minute pretend to like this type, I don’t, but I don’t wish them harm, I wish them success, why? Because the sooner she reaches her goal the better off it is for the rest of us who do this for a living.

How the fuck?

How the fuck?

How the f*** did he sneak in under my defences? I mean seriously, was it those big, brown, fluttery eyelashes accenting lovely, warm, sweet, green eyes? No, not those.

Was it those arms like pythons that so masterfully wrapped themselves around me, or was it the excellent oral technique? Hole in murther fucking one! Leaving me panting on the bed in a puddle of my own juices, wondering who the hell was making all that damn racket, oh yeah that was me!

He is absolutely adorably cute, a lovely little bonbon. Kinda of like a delicious naughty stolen treat. Yummy, sex, sweet kisses, and touches. How the hell do I account for the f***ing withdrawals I am going through? Jesus, it has been a long time, since I have been properly loved up.

I am like a junkie needing a hit. Bad! It is messing with my head in a majorly bad way. I am wearing out my playlist of sad and soppy songs. How the hell did I, me, yes moi end up here? Need to get a grip on self and snap to hell out of this silliness. No more texts, and I will just have to endure. Horrible. I hate feeling like this. Aaaaarrrrrggggggg!

The not so joys of working in Ireland-winter edition

The not so joys of working in Ireland-winter edition

What the very fuck has happened? I am still on tour, and am starting to notice that the wonderful inhabitants of the places I visited in England in the summer have somehow changed. I mean seriously, are people saving that much for Christmas that in the middle of October business is down by that much? Fucking hell! Or is it the influx of new and desperate hos, needing money for their presents as well?

Well whatever the problem is, I hate winter time. I am grouchier than normal, and that is saying something, I want to sleep more, and I have caught the bloody flu! I need a holiday! All in all I hate England, I hate Ireland in equal measure.

When the sun, if it shines, is shinning in this part of the world the clientele are lovely, when the weather changes, they all become bears.

Seriously men are dogs in the summer and bears with sore heads in the winter.

Hoing for fun

Hoing for fun

Yes you heard me correctly, one of my hobbies in addition loads of stuff civvie people do, is hoing for fun.

What I mean by hoing for fun, is this: When I am sequestered to any part of the world where I am not making a significant 4 figure sum a day, I am hoing for fun. I mean I cant really take it too seriously, due to the fact I am having to work for money far below what I would get as a tip in some countries. And the best part about hoing for fun, is when clients tell me I have an attitude, and should be grateful for the pittance they can barely afford. It gives me great pleasure to tell them, I am not working because I need this money, I’m doing this so as not to have to spend any money from my savings. This is pocket money for me, and not even decent pocket money at that! You should see the faces!

The UK mid range market is totally ruined! There was a time you could get some decent gents in the mid range sector, not anymore. They have either moved, died off, or become incredibly demanding cretins with entitlement issues. None of which I want any part of.

So you may ask, why bother returning to the UK at all? Well, due the fact I have family there, whom I really am rather attached to, and I actually enjoy spending my summers there. The Middle East is blistering hot, Oceania is cold-ish, so Europe is about the only place on the place on the planet worth spending time in at this time of the year. Thus, why I am on hiatus in the UK.

I am a hardcore ho, I am not doing this to get by! I am doing this to earn silly amounts of money, make no mistake, this isn’t some damn vocation or calling! I am not some sacrificial lamb sucking cock for the betterment of mankind! I am simply doing this because it pays bloody well. And if I am not getting a certain amount per day when I am working, time to move. Simples. I am not loyal to any place unless I am making money there. At the minute certain Middle Eastern countries are my favourite.

The day is coming soon when the UK client will start to appreciate a quality escort again, when those damn flood gates open and Eastern Europe dumps en mass the hordes of people seeking the land of milk and honey, the difference will soon emerge. And it will be something so simple, as when they hear that I speak perfect English. But until that day, I will be hoing for fun elsewhere.

Cat Amongst The Pigeons

Cat Amongst The Pigeons

History is filled with stories of the Norths vs. the Souths. America has the Civil war, with the south and the North going at it tooth and nail. Korea is currently divided into North and South, Germany had its own division going on, but they were in the other directions, east and west. But the north and south for the purposes for this discussion are those of Ireland. Northern Ireland , and the Republic of Ireland, here forth referred to as NI, and ROI.

Now the two capital cities of these countries are located about 100 miles apart, but dear god one could easily be on the other side of the planet, I find them so different in speech, attitude, and temperament. In Dublin, I feel like I am about to get hustled, dragged down an alley and robbed. In Belfast I actually feel safe. Ironic actually when you consider that a few years ago here was heavy sectarian fighting, and on occasion in July the odd fire bomb will break out during the marches. But for the rest they happily coexist in a weird kind of pretend peace. It seems to work for them.

The title says pretty much what this post is going to be about, putting the cat amongst the pigeons. By this I mean, I am going to go to a place that will probably piss a few more off than those already out to lynch me. But hey, if you aren’t pissing a few people off, you aren’t doing something right.

So where to begin? First off when I talk about the Irish, I am firmly refering to those that live in the southern part of the island, known as the Republic of Ireland. I am not referring to those in the North, why the distinction, because the differences between the two are so vast as to cause me to think I am on two different planets.

The first difference is the accent, the Northern Irish accent does something to my bits, I absolutely love hearing the wee dears chatter and natter on about things. But after living there for sometime you also come to realise the accent is just one of the many differences between the two Irelands. The inhabitants in NI are polite, I mean to the point of I bumping into someone, due to not looking where I was going, and having them apologise for being in my way! How is that for poiletiness?

But the thing that strikes me the most is the genuine gentleness and sweetness of the inhabitants. Now mind you, this is the same place that during July when marching season is in full swing, shit can kick off and the odd bombing can happen. But generally speaking when the two halves are not trying to kill each other, they generally manage to co-exist in a rather tenuous peaceful sort of way.

They are also unaffected. Sincerely not up their own asses. When I look in utter shock at the size of one of the wee lads members, and comment on the fact that the size is some what on the larger scale of things. They genuinely think I am just being nice. Bless them.

Now drive 100 miles to Dublin, and you are entering a different planet. I feel now a days just walking down the street that I am in fear of getting robbed just for having matching shoes. Granted that may be an over exagartation, but when you hear about the various robberies of escorts on an almost daily basis, it makes one think twice about visiting the place.

The lads in the north are plain and simply yummy. I mean they are quite stylish in their own way, polite, and as with the English demographic, I will see under 25s. Not in Ireland. The 45s are bloody ignorant and clueless, I am not having some young cocksure, clueless twat turn up and get cheeky with me, or try to rob me. They are moving in packs nowadays, like rabid wild dogs. Scary to be honest.