So yes, I'm glad to be back home.
I've been weighing the pros and cons of moving to Los Angeles should the agent I had lunch with in New York City decide to make me an offer. I've never lived out west before, so that would certainly be a new experience. True, the beaches aren't as nice and the smog can be stifling, but the City of Angels does have a lot to offer.
Perhaps I'd write a screenplay and to sell it to a studio? All right, that idea is pretty trite, but one can't argue that I don't have a lot of unique... um... life experience. That, and sometimes a new environment can invigorate one's sense of creativity.
As for my primary line of work, well, I can only assume that sex in Los Angeles would be just as good as it is here in Miami -- perhaps even better. Of course I'd miss my clients here, but chances are we'd both have moved on given enough time. One can't go around getting attached in this business.
One major caveat, however, is that I would feel bad about leaving my current agent here in Miami. I know that it's all "just business" and that she would probably understand, but still. If it weren't for her and Rebecca, who knows what I'd be doing now.
Taking on a huge student debt for grad school? Living at home with my parents while working a part-time job for minimum wage? Having to take a part-time for minimum wage along with an internship in my field from university -- assuming I'd be able to find one?
The mind boggles at the possibilities -- none of them good, either.
Time well tell where my life is headed, I suppose. I've also come to the decision that if anyone calls from New York or Boston or Washington DC -- the cities I've had talks with regarding a "real job" that uses my degree -- they won't be receiving a call back.
It's all about respect and courtesy, folks. Lots of people think that job hunting is like prostitution -- that one is essentially a "whore" for anyone willing to even give them an interview. Well, I'm here to tell everyone that is simply not true. Not even close.
I know this because I am a whore. I have sex for money and only for money. My body, personality and sexual prowess are what earn me a living. Time is valuable. If you're not willing to just make a decision and pay up thereafter, don't even bother contacting me.
My clients know what they want: Sex, conversation, someone to talk to. I provide it for them and I do my best to provide it well. Sometimes I think the business world could learn a lot from the sex industry. There are no cat-and-mouse games in my field, nor are there any false pretenses or bullshit communication practices.
The clients call my agent. After being screened, chances are I'll go where they wish to meet me, at which point we'll have a bit of wine and have sex. Afterward, I leave, along with a white envelope with my payment. Cash only.
I realize a lot of people think that what I'm doing is terrible -- an abomination that deserves to be shunned, ridiculed, and even outlawed. Well, tough shit, because I'm proud of what I do and am not going to stop.
As Belle de Jour herself put it: The first thing you should know about me is that I'm a whore.
And that, my friends, has made all the difference.
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