Where There’s a Will
“ Just as gay rights are based on choice and consent, so are prostitution rights. All sexual rights are based on choice and consent.”
I remember one client with almost precise clarity. Mostly because he’s dead now.
For the sake of this post, we’ll call him Joe. Joe reached out to me during a Friday evening hoping that he could hire me to go on a date with him. This is not that uncommon among escort requests. You’re paying for my time plus you’re footing the bill for dinner? What could be better?
Joe was lonely. Having built a chain of car dealerships, he’s reached a point where he doesn’t even need to lift a finger for work. He talked about how he worked really hard to get to where he is and how he was lucky enough to find people that he trusts to manage his many locations. He told me about he has reached a point in his life where he feels financially sound and is ready to find love and connection in his life as he gave up the search for a mate in order to reach monetary stability.
Hearing stories like that made me feel a strange combination of sadness and compassion. I understand there’s a need to work to pay the bills and make ends meet especially in a capitalist society that sees us as nothing but worker bees, but does the pursuit of happiness come at the cost of solitude? I knew that Joe wasn’t looking for just sex. He wanted to connect. He hasn’t been on a date since he was in high school. Clearly I had my work cut out for me.
Joe had a charming cuteness to him, in so far as a man in his 60s can be charming and cute. While he did enjoy talking shop a lot and how he came from a Midwestern family that neglected him most of the time, he was able to catch himself rambling and apologized in order to let me speak. I reassured him that it’s totally fine for him to ramble. He’s paying for my time, and if my time was spent listening intently on what he’s saying then I would think that’s money well spent. And boy did he have a lot to say.
He didn’t know how to conduct himself on our dates without sounding like a corporate asshole with interview questions, so he let me take the lead. I asked him questions like what he likes to do for hobbies, favourite vacation spots, any foods he has yet to try. It was strange when all these questions were met with silence. Or just a fumbles “I…don’t know.” He told me how nobody has ever taken the time to ask him questions like that because he’s constantly talking about work. His eyes welled up at the thought of someone taking even a minutiae of interest in him. It’s moments like these where I realize how important this kind of work is and how we take for granted the nature of our social needs. We could be surrounded by so many people and be dropped in a crowd, and still be the loneliest person in the world. So someone having a real conversation with him must have felt both foreign and relieving.
We kept up this routine of getting better at dates and having genuine conversations and being present in the moment, all the way until we ended up in the bedroom. For a guy who hasn’t been on a date for decades, he sure knew how to fuck. Of course he was unsure of himself, but I told him that he was doing just fine. We spent the night together, and I slept in his arms and waited for morning. As the sun shone through his window and our bodies still comfortably nestled in his sheets, we slowly opened our eyes and looked at each other with a sense of satisfaction; almost as if there was something that had been completed and he had finally got what he was missing.
As I thanked him for a lovely evening and got dressed, he walked me to the door and thanked me for all the work that I’d done for him. Just before I left, I hear him let out a cough that could shake jail walls. I got worried and asked if he was okay, and he told me it was just allergy season. I thought nothing of it, so I left.
That was the last time I saw him. The only other time I made any sort of contact with him was the reading of his will. I had absolutely no idea that he put me in the will. “That’s the last time I give a man my real name,” I said to myself as I sat awkwardly in the lawyer’s office on the receiving end of his family’s death stares.
I truly had no idea, and neither did the family. Needless to say it was really awkward when the will was being read and we all had to sit through my part. Now I can’t remember exactly what was said in that boardroom, but it went something like this:
“To Tim, you’re probably wondering why I put you in my will. If my lawyer is reading this to you, that means that lung cancer has defeated me. I knew that it was only a matter of time until I took my last breath. But I wanted to thank you one last time for all that you’ve done for me. So I leave you with a 2017 Audi A4. I know you’re paying off your student loans and you need to see other clients from other parts of the city. I hope this can help with that, at least a little bit. I’ve recommended your name to a number of colleagues. Don’t worry, I didn’t use your real name. I also want to thank you for trusting me with that information. I’m glad that I was able to make a connection with someone before I passed. You will always give me that, I can never thank you enough. Keep doing the work that you do. Be well.”
It still didn’t sit right with me that I’m getting a car from a client, and it didn’t sit well with the family either. The daughter, the granddaughter, and the son were very much baffled as to how they never knew dear old Joe would ever hire an escort. I could not, out of good conscience, take the car. I decided to sell it back to the family and used the money to pay towards my student loans and rent. It was a lot of information to take in on a Monday morning.
As I left the office settling all the drama that had ensued with the family, I couldn’t help but think as to how much my work affected this one individual. How much emotional energy was invested in our working relationship. I constantly underestimate the effect that sex work has on people. Mostly because I was doing it for so long that it felt like any other job. But for someone to put a sex worker in their will? It really sunk in that this work is important, and what could feel like any other shift could mean the world to someone. Especially when that someone is about to take their dying breath.
