However, since returning to my native Southern California, I’ve noticed something rather important: it is probably not the best plan to keep my particular sense of humour as my sole method of self-preservation.

This blog exists to keep things light—little jokes about common situations in this industry. Not to be cruel. Merely to be observant. And, if possible, mildly entertained at the same time.

📩 The Daily Message Parade

On a daily basis, while planning tours across America, I can receive anywhere from one to ten text messages.

They often range from:

• “hey”

• “available”

• “U av???”

…to the more refined version, which includes an introduction featuring a gentleman’s name, location, age, and an interest in connecting—written as if he attended school, took one business course, and has excellent manners.

📉 My Rejection Rate (A Tale of Mathematics)

My rejection rate sits somewhere between 90% and 95% of all those who attempt contact.

Why?

When someone sends a one- to two-word text message, my response is usually polite: I ask for their name, age, and location. About half of them do not bother to reply at all.

Of the half that do respond, many struggle with basic answers—blurting out something unclear, avoiding the question, or responding in the conversational equivalent of a foghorn.

The gentlemen who send a polite introduction, are literate on the page, and can manage a reasonable telephone conversation typically fare much better.

(Those who do respond….)

☎️ The Voice Test

A human voice reveals an extraordinary amount about a person. It tells me whether they’re kind. It tells me whether they’re genuine. And it tells me whether they can communicate without sounding like they were raised in a barn stall or someone’s damp basement.

In this industry, I’ve noticed many women who simply do not enjoy talking on the phone, and many who do not allow access to their phone number. That’s their boundary, and I respect it entirely.

But there are also men who adore calling to harass women—along with a handful who appear to be searching for something other than companionship, such as:

• free therapy

• emotional cardio

• or a cryptic number they found in a dream

If you have a guess where that 95% rejection rate comes from… you are probably correct.

💎 The Gems

The sweet spot is the 10% who can manage basic literacy and be polite enough to be understood on a call.

Then we also need our schedules to align while I’m touring.

So that 10% bracket quietly shrinks into a mere 1%–5% reality.

If you’re one of the people with all ten fingers and can count, you will see that the arithmetic checks out. Booking a client as a mature provider is—mathematically speaking—considerably below the average success rate of most businesses.

And yes, I do hate that I have to be discerning. It’s exhausting work. Like wearing pantyhose outdoors in a heatwave. Did I mention I live in the desert.

🧾 Screening (Yes, It’s Normal)

In the USA, requesting screening is pretty standard. Many high-end, mature providers I know consider it non-negotiable.

And yet—there are men who claim to be seasoned connoisseurs of beauty who become strangely confused when screening is requested.

It’s extraordinary, really.

🃏 SW Dating Excuses 101

Darlings, I have heard it all.

• “I need to be discreet.”

• “I’m married, I can’t.”

• “How do I know you’re not going to blackmail me?”

• “I’m a very important man—you can’t know who I am.”

My personal favourite is the last one. Normally, “very important” translates to: a low-level sales representative on the bottom floor of an office building working in a cubicle with about a hundred other people and a shared ambition to look busy.

Sweetie, if a married billionaire can send screening, then a man in a cubicle with a pulse can manage it too.

✅ The Rare Success Story (Followed by Reality)

Voila—he sends a polite introduction, we do a voice call, he provides valid screening, sends the deposit, and we plan the date.

Hooray.

Now I have to hope:

• the hotel doesn’t mysteriously catch fire

• my plane doesn’t decide to retire mid-journey

• weather doesn’t cause severe delays

…and then—because life loves irony—there’s still more.

❌ Cancelations

The two most common cancellation excuses are, genuinely, a pairing for the ages.

1) Someone they love died

There is a lot of death in this industry. It is astounding how many family members one person can lose after paying a deposit. Sometimes it’s family members dropping like flies even before the deposit clears.

It truly is exceptional.

I sometimes think—only for a moment—that I should give up this business and open a funeral parlor. At least the timing would make some kind of sense.

2) The long-lost lover magically returned

The second most common excuse is that their “long lost” or “forlorn” lover has mysteriously reconnected after disappearing for ages—and this time, they truly believe it will work out.

The traumatic story is usually delivered on a voice call.

Which means I have to endure an extended monologue—often when I’m driving for three or four hours—so I can place it on speaker and become one with the passenger seat.

After all, podcasts and audiobooks are overrated sometimes. The real drama is the cancellation excuse.

🎓 The Truth About Value (Yes, I’m Going There)

Some people think that women in this industry have no personal value.

I beg to differ.

Yes, there are women who need alcohol, drugs, or Xanax/Valium to survive what they’ve chosen—or what they’ve been pulled into. (Frankly, not surprising.)

But the majority of the women I know are far better educated than I am. Many have master’s degrees and PhDs.

Me? I’m a former globetrotting girl—well travelled, certainly—and I’ve honed highly acute skills through previous work, including the ability to profile people.

Did I mention I’m a bit of a retired Bond Girl type?

🙏 Thank You for Making It This Far

If I’ve lost you in the early chapters, I don’t blame you.

But for those of you who read this entire—admittedly lengthy—account of the irritating side of the industry (which may also be the very realistic human side)…

Thank you for reading.

My late husband and I were together for over eight years. We lived together for several years before marrying, and shortly after our wedding, he received a terminal cancer diagnosis. Upon hearing the news, we made a deliberate choice — to approach it like a business, to become a team working toward an inevitable destination. Throughout the period he fought his illness, we remained exactly that: a team with a strong foundation. Many of the choices I made during that time were unconventional, but they were made in full support of my husband, his wishes, and the way he chose to fight until the very end. I was proud of him — right through to the moment I walked behind his casket as his golf buddies carried him out of the church to his final resting place.

There comes a point in every life where we must say goodbye. It may be a career. It may be an empty nest. It may be a friendship. It may be a spouse or a lover.

Today, I am speaking about widowhood — because it is the experience that has had the most profound impact on my adult life. It is how I identify, and it is my choice to carry that identity with quiet dignity.

Marriage, or a life partnership, is a choice. We enter it seeking a partner in crime, a confidant — someone with whom we share the full texture of life.

In my own experience, and in the words of those who felt comfortable enough to share their stories with me, the things we miss most are rarely the grand gestures. They are the small, unremarkable moments that go entirely unnoticed until they are gone. The quiet morning rituals. The unhurried conversations. The particular comfort of silence shared with someone whose presence alone feels like care. The tasks around the house that were simply handled — until suddenly, they were not. The countless things you never learned because you never needed to, because someone else simply took care of them.

In my case, there were two and a half years of illness and caregiving. The psychological weight of knowing I could not make him better — only easier. I could smooth the path of his journey, but I could not alter its destination. Some would call that a tragedy. Others might call it a blessing — that there was time, that goodbyes could be said with intention and grace. For me, it was a blessing. We each hold our own views on how and when someone should pass. But for most of us, when it is our life partner, it is always too soon.

In the work I do now, I encounter people who miss emotional intimacy deeply. They miss having a best friend to simply talk with. They miss laughter over a good meal. They miss the unremarkable, irreplaceable simplicity of being known.

It feels like a genuine gift when I connect with someone who has walked a similar road. We may speak on the phone before ever meeting in person, and by the time we do meet, there is no sorrow between us — only a quiet, mutual understanding and the warmth of shared experience.

Kindness costs nothing. Quality time is among life's rarest luxuries. Sometimes it takes a great loss to recognize what a true treasure it is simply to be present.

We all encounter experiences that demand we grow. We all encounter moments that force us to keep moving. And it is entirely our choice whether we seek out a trusted companion with whom to share those experiences — and perhaps a few moments of genuine joy.

To those who showed both emotional honesty and grace in sharing their stories with me, and who allowed me to share a piece of mine — thank you.

I am grateful for the journey. The road has been, without question, a roller coaster. But I recognize it as a meaningful education, and I recognize myself as blessed.

There are those who reach out to fulfill a short-term need. And then there are those who actually want the story—the chemistry, the laughter, the little moments that feel intentional.

When a man invites me into his world, I’m looking for more than a calendar appointment. I’m looking for a man who understands that fun can be cultivated—planned with care, dressed with taste, and shared with sincerity.

I’m a cultivated woman: grounded, down to earth, and genuinely warm. I’m equally comfortable being spontaneous over champagne in a beautiful outfit… or keeping things simple, natural, and relaxed in jeans over good food.

Below are a few date ideas—uniquely fun, and very much my style.

🍾 Fashion Show Date

Some men bring practicality. Others bring spark.

I love the idea of him bringing beautiful lingerie, shoes, or fetish wear—a special outfit he wants me to model. Sometimes the “surprise” comes in a thoughtful box; other times it’s spontaneous shopping energy: money, a location, and a clear direction.

Regardless of how it’s delivered, the tone is always the same—playful, confident, and a little deliciously bold. There’s something elegant about champagne, great lighting, and wearing something that makes me feel powerful and feminine.

🍷 The Dinner Date

A real dinner date isn’t just food—it’s conversation, atmosphere, and wine that actually pairs well with the evening.

I’m skilled at choosing unique restaurants, in most cities around the world. In the US, I often return to places I trust—which gives me the freedom to explore locally when I’m on my own.

When someone says, “Let’s go out for dinner,” I hear: Let’s make it memorable.
And I’ll happily lead the way—where the wine is excellent, the menu is intentional, and the night feels like more than “just eating.”

🗺️ Travel Date (Where I Get Creative)

I don’t just plan trips—I design dates.

Give me permission to plan, and my creativity shows up beautifully. In the US, I’ve built fun weekends around places I know well—New Orleans and Santa Fe. I’m drawn to architecture, photographic art, and the local culture. I love walking cities slowly, finding hidden gems, and tasting what the region does best—especially the food and wines.

Internationally, I’ve planned golf trips and cultural escapes: Scotland, Ireland, southern Spain, throughout the Mediterranean and Cappadocia. I’ve also been a strong tour guide in cities and countries where I’ve previously lived : London, the Netherlands, and Italy—because I like not just seeing places, I enjoy sharing my local knowledge to make a better experience.

Travel dates are my favorite kind of intimacy: we grow closer while the world opens around us.

💼 Business Travel Companion

(Elegant, Not Inconvenient)

I adore a man who moves with purpose—and I love being able to travel alongside that momentum.

There are several ways I’ve done this:

• Staying in a separate hotel while he’s at a conference

• Having my own room while he’s traveling with others

• Sharing his room—when the rhythm is right and the space is cared for

I’m tidy, clean, and easy to share space with. And while he’s in meetings, I’m not “waiting”—I’m relaxed, focused, and occupied: working emails, fitting in a workout, and enjoying my time with calm excitement.

Then when he returns? I’m ready—beautiful, cheerful, and present. Not performative. Just genuinely delighted to be with him.

🌍 Social Etiquette (Internationally Polished)

Before I returned to America, I worked across Asia Pacific, the UAE, and western Europe. I learned international etiquette the way real professionals do: by paying attention, showing respect, and staying understated in a way that doesn’t require performance.

A lot of men have found me an asset while traveling internationally—because I understand culture, tone, and pacing. I know how to be respectful without becoming distant.

🤍 Down to Earth (And Proud of It)

Here’s the truth: I don’t believe sophistication has to be fragile.

We all have two legs and two arms, if we’re lucky. Most of us want the same things: peace, commonality, respect, and kindness that isn’t fake.

I’m equally happy:

• at a barbecue in jeans, chatting like I belong there

• or on a gentleman’s arm at the White House or the Kennedy Center

(Yes, I do have White House clearance, if it matters.)

What matters most to me is authenticity. I’m just as comfortable sitting next to a farmer talking about his crops as I am asking a statesman about his country, values and what’s important to him.

Cultivated doesn’t mean distant. It means intentional.

👗 The Perfect Wardrobe

I have a wardrobe that matches my energy.

• cute bikinis for beach days

• well-fitting jeans and cowboy boots for a country event

• proper tweeds for countryside pursuits in England

• and haute couture gowns for important evenings

Clothes aren’t superficial to me—they’re how a woman expresses intention, mood, and confidence.

✨ A Clear Statement

If you’re looking for a cultivated woman who’s sincere, warm, down to earth, and genuinely enjoys life—then we’ll get along beautifully.

But if you’re only reaching out for something of a quick fix, I’m not your girl.

I don’t just want a date.
I want a connection that feels like a well-designed life.

— Gweneth, your sensual, mature companion

However, maybe once a year, an unplanned discomfort arrives. The Octopus.

He messaged from a members’ advertising website designed to protect providers. His introduction email was polite. My first suggestion was, of course, to do a voice call—I enjoy hearing a human voice. To me, it reveals more than an email.

We discussed potential days to meet while I was touring near the city he lives in. Toward the end of our call, I politely requested my standard screening. He became incredibly upset. He said he was on the website to protect his identity, that he was a discreet man, and that he needed to stay that way to protect himself. He gave me a lecture about how important his privacy is to him.

🚩Red flag number one: If a married billionaire can provide standard screening, so can a middle-aged sales rep working in a cubicle in small-town America.

I remained polite. To feel comfortable, I would simply have to do my research on the website—contacting several providers who had given him an “okay.”

🚩Red flag number two: Upon my research, I realized quickly that all of the providers he had seen were mostly in their twenties, with a few in their early thirties. It seemed odd that he would choose to contact a mature provider—particularly if the girls he had seen previously could’ve been the age of my daughter (if I had one).

About twenty emails later, the responses began to flow in. Most were one to three word answers: safe, nice guy, clean. No one added anything extra. He clearly looked low risk.

Still, I had absolutely no clue about his character—other than that he was safe, arrived clean, and was nice.

💋 Hint: a mature provider would probably add a bit of value—mentioning his favorite type of music, how much he loves his dog, or a detail or two that shows he has more depth than safe, clean, nice or “okay.”

This man was a blank page.

The day of our appointment arrived, and he’d booked two hours. My hope was that he was easygoing and that it would flow.

The door opened, and yes—looking at him, he came across as nice, clean, and safe.

Less than five minutes in, though, his behavior turned bold and fast. He was very physical immediately and didn’t read or respect my comfort. He repeatedly told me—over and over—that he was “romantic,” that intimacy is important to him, and that he needs human touch to feel connected.

🚩Red flag number three: He wasn’t romantic. He was extremely needy, demanding, and disrespectful.

I gave him a bottle of water, hoping he would take a sip and breathe. We sat on the sofa in my suite. I tried to start a basic conversation to create space and give myself a moment to see if there was any real chemistry.

But in under seven minutes, I was stiff—uncomfortable—and already dreading how long the two hours would feel.

👔 A true gentleman knows when a woman is comfortable. Anything is possible. A weak man, lacking character, uses manipulative words to belittle her, force his thinking onto her, and make her insecure—so she submits without him feeling any guilt.

A date with a provider should flow and feel effortless, because there’s an unspoken understanding: unlike a dating app, we both know why we’re there. There are no illusions. The subtle agreement lets us both relax—enjoy each other’s time, and aim for connection.

Instead, the two hours felt like eight.

I was able to put an alarm on my phone between his nonstop neediness so I wouldn’t lose track of time. The bell rang, and I couldn’t move fast enough. I said, “Looks like it’s time for you to take a shower.”

🦟 🐜 My skin was crawling—like I was covered in ants and mosquitoes.

Meanwhile, The Octopus was still repeating that he was romantic and still wanted “a bit more.” He even commented that it wasn’t the full two hours.

I turned on the shower. I held the towel and pointed toward the bathroom. He was still being inappropriate, and my brain was now fully in survival mode.

He insisted I take a shower with him. I mentioned that I needed to text a business colleague to confirm our Zoom call because I needed to be online in thirty minutes.  I had to pull the bathroom door shut behind him after escorting him in.

While he was in the shower, I set alarms on both of my phones and my iPad. They went off every two minutes until he walked out the door.

Getting dressed, he was still being physical and grabbing at me. He was talking about how “amazing” it was and how next time he wants to plan four hours.

While holding the door open, he was still trying to reach inside my robe. I reminded him—politely—that the agreement is to leave discreetly.

I must’ve been in the shower for over thirty minutes. I used soap, body scrub, then soap again—trying to wash off the disgust. My skin was raw when I got out. I turned my phone off for the rest of the day and went for a walk. I needed fresh air and a glass of wine—badly.

Two weeks later, he sent me a request for an “Okay” on the website. I deleted it.

For a week straight, he kept sending the request—over and over—for me to give him an Okay. I refused. I didn’t tell him. I just kept deleting it.

After two weeks of me deleting his request, the website contacted me. It’s owned by retired providers. They thanked me for not giving an Okay to someone I felt didn’t deserve it. I sighed relief at their message.

🤦🏻‍♀️ I didn’t want a fellow mature provider to see that I’d approved him—only to find out that his behavior was unacceptable. If they knew me, it would break a code of trust.

💝 I share this because discomfort is information, not an invitation to ignore yourself. You deserve to feel safe—fully and immediately—and you don’t have to explain your boundaries to anyone who can’t respect them. I’m grateful I trusted my instincts, even when it would’ve been easier to hope for “maybe next time.”

Not as a performance. Not as a tactic. Just because… you’re a human being.

People say kindness is important… then act like it’s optional. To me, kindness, and caring are the same thing.

Adult provider = part service industry, part real life

When you’re an adult provider, you’re stepping into the service industry.

And like any service, some relationships end up being short-term meaningful… and some are long-term meaningful.

I’m selective about who I see. Not because I’m picky for fun—because for me, the best clients are respectful gentlemen:

• genuine

• authentic

• often a little raw in the most honest way

Everyone you meet is carrying something

A man might come with a story you’d never know from the outside.

He might have a wife battling terminal cancer.
He might have survived colon cancer.
He might be in a brutal divorce—one that’s dragging out for years instead of the 3–6 months he expected.

He might be a devoted husband… yet secretly craves something that doesn’t fit neatly into his “public” life.
And none of it is mine to judge.

I’m not here to be a moral court.
I’m here to be present for right now.

Right now could be one year or ten.

The connection is real (and the conversation matters)

When you’re a provider, the friendships can get surprisingly deep.

You might see each other only a couple times a year.
But 80–90% of the time together is… talking.

Physical intimacy is usually 10% or less of the experience.

Many of my clients meet with me because they love the conversation. They want to be fully seen, fully present and without judgment.

Quick truth: I’m not living some fantasy

Here’s the part people don’t say out loud:

I’ve been in this industry about four years.
I can count on both hands how many times I’ve been invited on a dinner date in a calendar year.

I’ve never had an overnight booking.
And in four years, I’ve only had one booking longer than four hours.

If I had to guess what I’m actually here for?
Comfort. Warmth. A little life coaching.
And the human connection that comes when you’re not performing.

🗝️ I’m a safe confidant

Some people aren’t looking for chaos.
They’re looking for safety.

I’ve written men’s dating profiles after their divorce finalized.
I’ve coached recently divorced men finding their way back to dating after a long marriage.
I’ve listened to men who are married, have a mistress, and feel confused about what’s happening to them.

And yes—sometimes it’s simple.
Clients who haven’t seen me in a year or two call to catch up, just to feel grounded.

I’ve become their secret friend.

🙏🏼 The kindness goes both ways

It’s never just “money for time.”

They’ve helped me pay my brother’s doctor bills.
I’ve helped them find true love again.
They’ve helped with practical life stuff—like my mother’s new air-conditioning unit.
I’ve coached them through a painful divorce.

Then once they’re on their way, I genuinely wish them well—and I don’t cling.
I don’t do guilt.
I don’t do drama.

Just: a friend doing their best to make it through the daily grind, too.

🧭 Everyone enters for their own reasons

I won’t pretend it’s all purity and romance.

Everyone enters this industry for their own reasons.
I love the human connection.
The finances are a bonus.

It was my choice to stop dating four years ago.
It was my choice to be here.

To me, every time I meet someone, it feels like I’m going on a date.

And I’m selective—because I want the connection with a genuinely kind person.

I’d rather share my time with a man who’s kind, but a little chaotic… than a mean-spirited, cruel jerk whose intention is to abuse me mentally.

If I wanted to suffer, I could go back into the civilian dating world.

📲It starts simple

It all begins with:

• a polite introduction

• a voice call

• the decision to make a plan together

Maybe you want to meet, but our schedules don’t align.
And if that happens?

Don’t worry.
I completely understand.

The fantasy is simple: it feels like having a real girlfriend for a short time—beautifully curated, with all the perks. But it’s still play. Safe play. With the freedom to walk away when the agreed time ends.

The Agreement

The agreed-upon time creates structure. It allows open conversation, safety, and trust. It also keeps expectations clear: there’s zero responsibility beyond the agreed time and finances.

Seeing someone regularly—once a month, once a week, or somewhere in between—can benefit both people. There’s consistency, and for the provider, there’s often job security.

How “Agreements” Really Start

“Agreements” often form when a provider and her client genuinely click. They want to see each other more regularly. The provider may offer a discounted rate that extends the time—because it works for both.

A Few Common Examples

• One or two weekends a month: She stays with him at his country house. Instead of paying her regular hourly or overnight rate, he pays a flat rate each time she visits. It’s discounted, and the predictability is wonderful for both of them.

• Travel companion: He invites her on business trips. Business class. Five-star hotels. Because the cost is heavy, she sets a realistic amount that feels fair to both. If they connect, he’ll bring her along several times a year—often with luxury shopping included.

• Local sugar daddy: He sees her once or twice a week. Every week, consistently. She’s on a monthly salary, so there’s certainty in the schedule—even if he frames it as an “office expense.”

Why Men Choose This

• He could be in the process of a divorce and craves consistency without drama.

• He could be married, his wife has lost interest in intimacy, and therefore paying someone becomes an agreement that keeps things low-risk, regular, and emotionally safe.

• Then there are the single guys—possibly dating and seeking regular intimacy until he finds a relationship.

• Or he lives in the middle of nowhere: local women he’s known since childhood. Too much history and a serious lack of privacy.

The Emotional Part (Without the Chaos)

When intimacy is regular over time, a real connection forms. The provider becomes his confidante and lover. He feels safe emotionally, and he can express himself—often in ways he can’t with anyone else.

Because it’s a service-industry job, she’s typically always in the mood: supportive, understanding, and upbeat. And if he stays respectful and maintains manners, she’s often extremely tolerant and not judgmental.

“I Love You”

Some of these men say, “I love you.” It feels safe to say because there are no long-term consequences. There’s a “little white envelope”—a boundary that keeps him from being forced to provide a future once he walks out the door.

Boundaries

There are men who are realistic. They know it takes effort and attention to keep it healthy.

But others become presumptive, malicious, or both.

Carrot Dangling

The arrangement has been going on for a while. Then he decides to “upgrade” his generosity—paying off a credit card, new tires, her child’s school costs, the dog’s medical fees.

Everything is fine… until it isn’t. Then suddenly she’s spending time with him, the envelopes stop, and the tone changes.

A polite suggestion comes up, and he explodes. He calls her ungrateful.

🚩 The Red Flag

A wise person would cut losses immediately. But there’s usually comfort on both sides—especially the comfort of consistency. She may be used to the security. He may be used to regular intimacy. And then, quietly, the arrangement stops fitting.

For him, it’s often because he’s no longer truly happy with the terms. He becomes attached. He forgets the structure. And the smart move is to end it immediately—before resentment grows.

Emotions and Comfort: A Slippery Slope

Financial security helps her relax. She doesn’t have to take a “bad” client, because she already knows her weekend is booked for—the arrangement man.

He gets regular sex with minimal drama. He avoids a long-term relationship. And yes—he may act like a caveman: irrational, impulsive, indulging in his addicted behavior.

She tolerates it because the schedule and the agreement were built for safety. She keeps smiling, collects her envelope, and leaves when their time is done.

Confusion

Some men think she could be the perfect wife.

They want a woman who stays calm, is accommodating, and tolerates their worst moments. She understands his views—even when they don’t make sense to anyone else or are out of alignment with hers.

But when she gently brings up “the envelope,” he gets annoyed and angry.

Final Thought

There is no free lunch.

The only real “nuance” is honesty—about what’s happening and how it feels when the tides shift.

Some arrangements end with a clock. The bell rings. That’s it.

As per the agreement, both sides entered willingly.

It’s a real choice. Do you make it easy for people to reach you… or do you accept that opening the door might also mean dealing with whatever kicks it in?

Here’s the truth: mental health is one of the biggest issues in this industry.

Every day, you’re confronted with emotional abuse—some polite, some creative, and some just straight-up unhinged.

📞 Why I Chose to Leave My Number On

I decided to keep my phone number on my ads.

And the consequences?
Let’s just say: the degradation, insults, and pure insanity I experience every time I turn on my phone is enough to make a monk consider a new vocation.

My ads have elegant photos. My writing is eloquent, thoughtful—like, the kind where I actually care. I curate everything I put into the public arena.

But to protect my mental well-being?
I don’t even turn on my work phone until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee.
Because if I’m going to read nonsense, I want it with caffeine.

🌍 The Numbers Vary (and So Does the Madness)

Depending on the advertising cities—across America and worldwide—the volume changes.

Sometimes I wake up to 10–20 messages.
Other mornings it’s 40-ish.

On weekends?
The drunks and druggies don’t just text—they run full-length conversations with my phone while I’m sleeping. Like I’m their personal live chat service.

There are the occasional angry rants because I don’t respond in 10 seconds.
There are psychotic meltdowns from men who met me two years ago, had one too many, and suddenly believe they must share what they really think of me.

And then there are:

• Missed video call attempts from the Middle East 🌙

• Nauseating “photos” of men’s… you know. 😬

It’s like opening my phone is the daily routine, except the routine hates me.

🤝 Phone Calls vs. Texting (Choose Wisely, Gentlemen)

I personally prefer hearing a human voice.

In the age of AI, someone who struggles with English can still text perfectly—spell everything right, sound coherent in writing, and hit send with confidence.

But when it comes to phone conversations?
They can’t speak clearly, intelligently, or consistently—and that makes scheduling a meeting painfully unrealistic.

I mean… imagine trying to plan a 90-minute to two-hour experience with someone who can’t properly communicate during calls. That’s not “mystery.” That’s just a logistical disaster.

📊 The Truth About Contact Rates

About 95%–98% of everyone who contacts me will be rejected.

Why?

• Literacy is a major reason.

• The second biggest reason is—honestly—nonsense.

Trust me: the bar is low, and even then… people still trip over it.

🧠 What Most Men Can’t Do (And Why It Matters)

Roughly 60%–70% of the men who message me can’t even provide the basics:

• their name

• their age

• their location

Imagine that.
Not knowing how to answer three simple questions about yourself.
And yet somehow they expect the conversation to magically become meaningful.

📩 The Main Types of Texters (A Survival Guide)

1) The Talkers (20%–30%)

These are the guys who text nonstop just because they enjoy texting. It could be the middle of the night and they’re drunk or high. Or they’re sitting in a business meeting bored, so they’re “multitasking” with me.

And yes—some men love phone calls. In the Midwest, they call it “visiting.”
They’ll talk to anyone willing, anywhere, anytime. Car. Walk. Porch. Wherever they are.

That’s why I follow my 5–10 minute introduction conversation rule.
If you can’t show up with clarity in that window, we both know how the rest goes.

2) The Bargain Shoppers (10%–20%)

These guys message nearly every woman with an ad.

Usually it’s:

• “Can I book a 15 or 30 minute appointment?”

• Outcall location 1–2 hours away

• And payment offers that are less than 10% of my advertised rate

Gentlemen… be realistic. The price isn’t “negotiable” in the way your hopes are.

3) The Visual Perverts (10%)

“Send me a few pics.”

They’ll also try endless video calling, demand “video verification,” or act shocked when it doesn’t work like a customer service app.

No genuine person needs unsolicited photos to be texted.
Men who request video calls out of nowhere typically have one hand on their phone and… let’s just say the other one is busy. 🤦🏻‍♀️

4) The Genuine Gentlemen (The Lucky 10%)

This is where it actually gets interesting.

The turning point is choosing date and time.
Of the genuine 10%:

• only 2%–5% can make it work and have the fun budget.

That’s the real “needle in the haystack” crowd.

✅ So—Do I Keep the Phone Number On?

It’s easy to see why many providers prefer not to.

The risks are real:

• either hearing crickets, or

• getting stuck in 1–3 extra hours of work per day answering messages that go nowhere.

That time isn’t just annoying—it’s expensive. Mentally and practically.

And on top of that, I also get regular clients who message daily just to check in or ask when I might be passing through their hometown.

So yes—leaving the number on is a gamble.

But when you finally meet that rare 2%–5%?
You know the effort mattered.

🌟 Closing Thought

In an industry focused on human connection, communication is everything.
It’s unfortunate how much perseverance it takes to find the right ones—the outliers.

But one thing is certain:
When I meet that genuine 2%–5%… I’m genuinely grateful.

“Lost time is never found again.” — Benjamin Franklin

The sex-work industry requires constant diplomacy, understanding, and awareness of the fragile male ego. Want, need, and desire are three completely different things in this business.

• Want: I want to see this mega-hot provider. She triggers the passionate desire I crave. Her photos stimulate my primal instincts. Her written profile tells me she understands what I want and will give it to me.

• Need: I crave physical intimacy. I seek a companion because solitary release does not satisfy my primal needs. I need her to be available right now, because my day is busy and I have only a short window of availability; she needs to be convenient.

• Desire: I desire feeling deeply connected. I desire feeling masculine and alive. I want her to desire me in a way that makes me feel desirable.

Fast food meets a want, a need, and a desire instantly. It’s only inconvenient when you must wait in a long line at the drive-through or when the app delivery-driver is stuck in traffic.

Dealing with human beings offering a one-on-one, personalized service is a completely different kind of business than fast food, yet it’s often comparable.

The drive-through serves stressed parents with a car full of hungry kids, businesspeople on their lunch breaks, and the occasional budget-conscious diner who orders a happy meal and acts as if they have a child.

As a provider, I meet the spouse who hasn’t been touched in years, the business traveler seeking discreet spice during a conference, and those with a modest fun-budget hoping to get lucky, often with the attitude, “If you don’t ask, you never know.”

As a mature provider, it’s safe to say my target audience is primarily mature gentlemen. There are a few random cities I tour where I might get booked by a mega-hot hedge-fund manager in his 30s or a fit lawyer in his 40s, but the majority are 50 and older. Additionally, I live in a resort community where the wealthy own multiple homes and spend their winters here golfing, playing tennis, or pickleball.

Hearing men talk about their latest joint replacement, prostate-cancer survival, or a wife who has gone through menopause and lost interest is a normal conversation.

The snowbird men in my resort community tend to be fun, upbeat, and in great shape. Six months of the year I see them; we rekindle our seasonal affair, they share travel stories, and show photos of their newest grandchild. There are also years when one of my favorites does not reach out, and in a moment of courage I Google the obituaries to see whether it’s just me or whether he has passed away.

Male aging often brings increased estrogen. Men become more sensitive. Life experiences make men more self-aware. The wealthy men I see often have remarkable lives behind them. Their past was powerful. They broke the glass ceiling in their fields back in the day. Their children went to the best schools, and now earn three times more money — having surpassed their parents’ level of success tenfold.

The other men I meet are handsome, fit, in their late 50s or early 60s, and going through a brutal divorce from their first wives. These men can be volatile. After a lifetime of getting whatever they wanted, they sometimes find it difficult to control their future exes. The younger companions or sugar babies may be less reliable due to his emotional instability and her inability to blackmail him now he is in a divorce.

The top emotional landscape among my clients includes gentlemen going through divorce after surviving a terminal illness. If they have five to ten years left, they prefer not to remain in a dead marriage. They are grateful to be alive and may have turned to yoga, meditation, or therapy to create balance for the first time in their lives. They crave being adored and appreciated, and they often enjoy a touch of experimentation in new areas.

He logs on to a well-known website in his area, or searches for “companion/escort near me.” This is where our story begins.

Men are visual. Women tend to seek safety, financial security, and intellectual companionship. Here we stand together on both sides of the screen: he looks at an ad, and she is the woman in the pictures. Two people trying to meet each other’s needs, bearing the baggage of life that came before.

• I am Buddhist, and it is my firm belief that human kindness serves everyone. I strive to be fair to all. There are days when my composure wavers and I lose my temper. Too many people have overstepped my boundaries, and I am not happy. Yet kindness always feels rewarding. Being with someone who allows me to be kind and who returns that kindness is a wonderful blessing.

Social media is, in many ways, a wonder—and a delusion. We are all trying to present ourselves as something far greater than we truly are.

Being in this industry, it’s easy to compare oneself to others and the lifestyle they are projecting onto the world. Regularly, I see women in my industry enjoying  amazing dinners, staying in magnificent hotels, being whisked off to islands, sitting in private jets, and receiving designer jewelry in red, green or blue boxes.

Since becoming a high-end companion, I haven’t personally experienced that behavior. I know that male generosity exists. However, my knowledge of it came from a time when I lived in Europe and was not a professional companion. I was a regular businesswoman. My UK and EU lovers invited me all over the world, staying in prestigious resorts, and their gifts were extraordinary. NetJets in the Netherlands would tell the men about the amenities I enjoyed on board. After all, the NetJets fleet based at Eindhoven Airport had previously been owned by my late husband, and after his passing, men I dated regularly sent for a plane to collect me.

Fast forward, I now live in the USA. Regularly, I turn on my work phone to face bargain hunters.  Regularly I feel like men here in the USA view me as the dollar tree or free market in a third-world country.  Communicating regularly via social media and text messaging has made me discerning about whom I invest my energy in. It’s safe to say I meet fewer than 1 to 5 percent of the people who attempt to interact with me.

Planning a tour to a city is a lot of work.  In the 4-5 years I’ve done this work, airline and hotel pricing has risen and fallen with enormous extremes. Planning a tour in the Midwest can be just as expensive as flying across the US to stay in Manhattan.

Recently, I planned a tour to NYC. I began advertising one month before and sent out my newsletter two weeks prior to my arrival. Several clients expressed interest. I booked my hotel three weeks in advance to get the best rate.

Forty-eight hours before flying to New York, I had not received a single deposit. Yet had several men express interest in seeing me. The question in my mind was: should I cut my losses on the $300 spent on advertising, or do I take a leap of faith and just go? I logged onto the hotel app to cancel my reservation, but I was no longer within the 48-hour cancellation window.  I called the hotel to see if maybe I could persuade them over the phone, but due to a slowdown in business my loyalty status had been downgraded, and they would not honor a late cancellation.

I decided to pull on myself together and go for it.  New Yorkers are often last-minute, but I’m sure it will be just fine. I book an economy-class flight, checked my credit cards to make sure there were funds available, and headed off to New York.

Twenty-four hours before my arrival, someone I’d met once sent a deposit and wanted to meet immediately after I land.  I was thrilled. He is young, fun and will be a great start to my two-night, three-day visit.

Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law kicks in and weather delays changed my 5:00 PM arrival to 10:00 PM.  I’d missed my date, and I needed to refund his money.  He and I had several voice calls while I was on layover, and he completely understood the situation as a regular business traveler himself. He was kind and said “ Keep the deposit, —maybe we can work something out while you’re here, if not on your next trip”. What a gentleman.  I arrived at my hotel just before midnight exhausted after the long exhausting day of travel.

Day 1: The most important thing I’ve learned is to have a cup of coffee and not eat before turning my work phone.

When I turn it on, there are 15 messages.

The first nine are casual greetings —“hi” “hey” “hi babe” “u av now” “???” And the six remaining messages are 1) a disgusting dick pic; 2) a 19-year-old student with $90 and hope; 3)  a call from a country with limited resources asking me if I want to travel with him across America when he visits for FIFA; 4) a dubiously illiterate message at 3 AM from someone in Staten Island wanting to meet right now for 30 minutes outcall; 5) a message from someone visiting NYC in September, that would like to book a one-hour appointment and see how it goes; 6) a guy asking if I have a 15-minute incall rate and if I swallow.

Needless to say, nothing of it was worth my time.  I delete everything, get dressed, and go for a walk to buy some bottled water.  I probably just need to clear my head, go to the gym and hope that my fate will change.

Upon my return, I see my 7 PM appointment has canceled. He needs to fly out of town and promises to cover my cancellation fee. He is a man I’ve known for several years; I’ve met him once in New York and once in London. He basically has a high likelihood of canceling. I no longer charge him the full cancellation fee, but I’ve created a special rate since I know I won’t see him.

The score: 1 deposit and one canceled appointment fee.  I am sad and feel unsuccessful. I take time for meditation and yoga time before heading to the gym.  I need to clear my head before I burst into tears and don’t recover.

Around lunchtime, I meet a girlfriend’s daughter who works in the city.  As I say goodbye to her, she recommends the rooftop bar across the street from where we ate lunch. “Why not” I think. I have nothing lined up during my trip, and I might as well enjoy the beautiful weather with a great view.

It’s a glorious day in New York City. The view was spectacular and I feel blessed.  NYC, to me, will always be a magical city.  Feeling the wind in my hair, sipping Prosecco, I looked down at my phone to see multiple emails have arrived.

“ What are you doing? I may actually have time tonight if you want to get together.” I respond with a picture of me at the rooftop and a message saying “ if you want me to get off of this barstool, you better make it worth my time”.  I’m at a point where I truly don’t mind if anything happens, because I’m enjoying the view.  My phone pings. I look down to realize a significant amount of money has landed in my Venmo. An email follows with instructions to visit an exclusive lingerie store that is by appointment only. Needless to say, I order an Uber and head straight there.

A paradigm shift: instantly I go from being sad and trying to make the best of an unfortunate business trip to being a spoiled woman with a fun night planned ahead.

• The job of high-stakes, high-risk high-end companionship is the potential for a high ROI. There isn’t a single day I take this business for granted. There isn’t a single day in this business when I trust someone who claims to be “a man of honor”. I do my best to be transparent and sincere in all interactions and hope for mutual respect. However, this is a business where words mean nothing and actions speak volumes.

A busy man with a full schedule. It’s my choice to be his secret escape. No one has forced me to be in this position. It’s his choice to compartmentalize passion, excitement, and fulfillment. It’s my choice to make a living, sitting around and waiting.

A quick bit of background: I chose this lifestyle of being a High-End Companion during the pandemic, around 2022, and have been offering this service for about four years now.

In this blog, I will share the story of a male client in his 30s, never married, a serial entrepreneur.

“Mistress, I miss you and I need you. Can you please come to Scottsdale this week?”

I researched the prices at two of my favorite hotels, plus meals, gas (for the drive), and a 2-hour minimum meeting.

It’s a 4-hour drive, which is a perfect opportunity to catch up on my Audible and some podcasts. In my Tumi bag are his outfit requests and a selection of toys he likes me to use on him. He is a submissive with a foot fetish.

Upon arrival at the hotel, I text him to reconfirm what time we are meeting. It’s 4:30 p.m.; he texts, “5:30.”
My first order is to prepare the room with the equipment and supplies required for our session before I shower and get ready.

5:30 p.m.: Him: “Stuck at the office, see you at 6 p.m. Red wine or Tequila.” I respond, “Completely understand; red wine, see you soon.”

In my briefcase, I always have a journal, a book, and multiple iPads. While waiting, I can check my emails, do some blogging and social media. It’s an easy way to keep busy and fill time.

6:30 p.m.: My stomach is growling, and I remember that I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Ugh! I forgot to bring a protein bar to tide me over. At this pricey hotel there is no way I’m getting into the mini-bar snacks. I text, “Hi handsome, are you on your way?” and send a sexy photo of my latex pencil skirt.

7:15 p.m.: My stomach is now growling uncontrollably. The water and coffee I drank definitely didn’t help. I send a text: “If I don’t hear from you by 7:30, I’m going down to the hotel bar to eat something. I am hungry.” Immediately I receive, “Sorry, got stuck on a bunch of emails and calls. I’ll meet you there.” Now all I have to do is decide: Do I change into street clothes or stay in my latex pencil skirt, latex Jimmy Choo stilettos, a sheer black blouse, and just pull my Alexander McQueen blazer over it? I decide to go with the blazer, after all, it is one of Scottsdale’s trendiest bars and will be filled with pretty people everywhere. No doubt they won’t even notice me.

7:30 p.m.: I feel relaxed and relieved I can finally eat. I order a glass of Italian wine and a simple bowl of pasta they can no doubt make quickly. After my first sip, I immediately relax, knowing that everything will be just fine once I get a little something in my stomach. The bar was pretty much empty when I arrived, but within an hour, the entire bar was filled.

8:00 p.m.: I send a photo of my legs showing off my high heels, latex skirt, and a glass of red wine. “Waiting at the bar for you.”

8:30 p.m.: The bartenders ask if I want another glass of wine since it looks like I’m still waiting. It’s pretty clear that multiple people at the bar have noticed I’ve been sitting there waiting for someone. I joke with the bartenders, “Do you have caviar? When he gets here, I’m making him pay for my dinner.” The bartender laughs with me and hands me the menu. “The caviar is right here on the bottom. I’ll personally get it for you and hand him the bill when he arrives.” We both laugh. I look at the menu, place it on the bar, check my phone, and look at the front entrance of the hotel.

8:45 p.m.: “Are you on your way? I’m getting tired. If I don’t see you by 9 p.m., I’m heading up to bed.” Immediately I receive a text: “Hey, beautiful, I’m on my way. It’s been a crazy day at the office. I’ve headed home to take a shower and pick up some red wine.”

Boundaries and self-respect are important in any business. I’ve been sitting in the bar for over an hour waiting for him. In my room, I waited two hours for him to arrive. There is a part of me wondering if he will show up. The safe guess is it’s a 50/50 chance that he will show.

This client I have known for several years. He once scheduled an appointment and, upon arrival at my hotel, smoked a joint to relax before our session, then passed out in his Range Rover while I waited in my room.

These days I always ask him for a 50% deposit, because I never know if he will show up; the last two times I scheduled with him, he canceled at the last minute and sent the full amount for my time.

9:00 p.m.: Standing at the cash register, the bartender handed me my bill and I said, “I give up.” I turned off my phone, paid my bill, and walked to the elevator. I felt really beautiful tonight—the kind of beauty I see in the mirror when I’m proud of how well I take care of myself. It’s a shame he didn’t get to see how great I look tonight.

5:00 a.m.: I wake up, drink coffee, and turn my phone on. There is a notification of a gift-payment for my dinner. I decide to send him all of the beautiful pictures and videos I took of myself while waiting for his arrival.

7:00 a.m.: Dressed and ready to head to the gym after two hours of emails and blogging. I’m ready to get in a good workout before the 4-hour drive home. “Hey, beautiful, mind if I come over right now? I saw you by the elevator, called your name, but you didn’t respond. I watched you get in the elevator.” A picture of the elevator arrived. “Wow, I didn’t think you were actually going to make it. Anyway, I’ll hop in the shower and can be ready in 30 minutes. Text when you arrive. See you soon.”

8:00 a.m.: He arrived, but only had one hour. He wanted to do foot worship. Most of the session he was texting on his phone and calling people. As he left, he thanked me for coming to Arizona and said, “It was really great to see you again. I can’t wait to see you again soon.”

• This is a business, much like any other consumer or hospitality venture. The customer is always right, even when respect is questionable. This man is safe, kind, and generous. Yet his behavior is often inconsistent, sometimes predictably so. There’s a reason men like this seek out women like me and remain loyal year after year. For the sake of my sanity, I do set boundaries; still, I strive to carry them out with kindness and respect for myself. I try not to let anger rule me, choosing graciousness when they behave themselves. After all, this is a professional relationship, and his behavior toward me is not personal.