I Too Fell Victim To Thinking My Shit Don’t Stink- Better Known as GPS or Golden Pussy Syndrome

Are you laughing at me? Are you judging me? Are you thinking, what is she talking about? Here, calm down. I’ll explain.

Once upon a time, in a faraway place called the internet, a term was born in the Hobby. What hobby? Oh my God. Let me back up again.

Once upon a time, there were websites that escorts could put their ads on and simultaneously interact with the clients for screening, greetings, posting on forums etc…these guys got together and decided that it would be safer for the guys if the ladies of the industry were discussed, reviewed and disparaged. These guys spend a lot of time on these sites expressing themselves, visiting as many girls as their budget allows, and tallying up the scores for daily talks. These are guys enjoying The Hobby. A ‘hobbyist” is one who indulges in escorts. There truly is value here. There is no doubt that all of us want safety, and the guys that participate in the “not nice part” of disparagement, are better known as “Slobbyists” because their mom’s didn’t teach them well. There are many, many blog posts in this very sentence. But for today, I am pledging my sincerest apologies for GPS in my earlier years.

Golden Pussy Syndrome. I had it. Let me explain, defend and continue my apology. It’s not too complicated. An escort suddenly is being paid for not just sex. But time spent. So this combo makes for an ugly equation. The more sought after a girl is-whether for her appearance, her abilities, her rate or availability—the more important she feels… unique, superior, young, beautiful, and the kicker? WELL PAID. So this is how it goes down. Girl decides her rate, what she will do to get this rate and all the rules that fit her and this rate. And she gets paid. Inevitably, there are some that hang out too long, text too much, call too much, show up unannounced, act too possessive, starts saying weird shit, and the girl feels taken advantage of because in her head, she’s thinking if this dude would just leave, someone else could also come and pay me. And before one knows it, the girl thinks way too highly of herself and her time and starts pushing away nice guys that just want to say hi. Nice guys that stay a bit longer, text more often, (no. no you can’t call me anytime. no.) and only want to pay the verbal tip. (I know, tips are not expected, but they sure do make us feel special) or worse, they don’t want to pay anything. Just a compliment.

LOOK OUT. I’m a changed woman. I don’t know what happened in cancer, but everything changed for me. And if I could put my finger on the cause…I’d either bottle it for humility, or implode it for insecurity. And that’s the pendulum I find myself caught in. Swinging back and forth-good to bad. Bad to good. Whatever. It’s a weird place for me. I don’t know if it was the long break without working, I don’t know if it’s because during that hiatus I missed everyone, even the bologna. Or is it deeper and that I came to a place where shelving the attitude became easier when my life drastically changed- in the most precarious way. Nevertheless, I am excited when I get the unexpected “hi”. I am happy and feel validated with every inquiry. I feel closer to my company than I ever did before. Flattered is a huge understatement. Grateful. Hopeful. Ready to shine. And the best part, is there’s no volume. (ok best and worst) I see so few, because I have to be selective. I have to choose the guys that are going to be sweet to me. I have to avoid the pooper scoopers that have porn in mind and not sensuality. I have to drop the guy that wants to — and I quote a recent reject, “I’m going to pound that pussy”. Oh. That doesn’t sound like fun. On to the next. The one that brings wine and flowers. The one that loves me for the time we have together. The time I have to fall in loive in with you. And then he gets ready to leave, he pats his pockets-wallet, keys, phone- and he hugs and kisses me and walks away. I smile as I close the door because that person just made my year. Because the volume is low, I have the luxury of remembering everything we t alk about. Every place you like to be kissed. Every secret that’s shared. I’ll have put notes in your contact info- date of first encounter…because I’m all about anniversaries. It’s always a reason to celebrate when you return. Back to the flattery, the validation, the removal of those insecurities. And you know what I’m thinking? “I miss you already.”