The End

I have been feeling depressed lately. Life seemingly has no meaning – although I know that it must. I have spent hours and hours of my time searching youtube – watching hours of video about spirituality and God and his existence or lack thereof.

Overall, I am feeling unfulfilled. I seek sexual attention from others, hoping that their desire to be with me and have me will quench my insatiable thirst. I have done this with escorting the last 9 months – and, as would be expected, this method has failed me. In fact, it has done much more than fail me. It has thrown gasoline into the flames.

I just walked over to Borders, hoping that reading books would refocus my mind and help me forget my anxieties. While there I was suddenly struck with an idea that I have been fighting off for months now – how in the fuck do I expect to get better when I am a whore?

And not just a metaphorical whore, but an actual whore.

I got into this is the first place because I was lazy and thought it would be the best way to make money while in turn doing the least work. In that sense I succeeded. A little over a hundred hours of work has brought me somewhere between 20 and 25 thousand dollars of hard, undivided cash.

And yet I feel terrible. Because deep down I do not want to be a whore. I do not want to be a commodity. I do not want to be a mindless body that older men jack off to.

Often I enjoy fucking clients. Sometimes it is a so-so experience. Other times it is completely miserable.

I have sold myself out, allowed disgusting men to suck me off, jack me off and feel my insides. And for what? Money? I don’t even need money! Sure, it’s nice to have it, but I have done little with it other than pay my rent and buy groceries and drinks on the weekend.

I’m a man. I’m not a kid anymore. I can’t brush off my actions as immaturity or exploration because I know better and I was raised better.

I am a gay man living in an unaccepting (though improving) world. And while it may be a double standard, gay men are looked down upon more for promiscuity, drug usage and prostitution – perhaps because many expect it.

I want to be a healthy gay man. I want to set a good example. I have already fallen into the trap of drug addiction. I pulled myself out, only to discover the equally deep hole that sex and money can dig.

I am terrified for my future. I don’t know how I will make money now. Of course I will get a job, but the money won’t be even remotely as good – atleast not for years. For once, I will actually have to drag my ass through life.

I’m good looking. I’m a good person. I’m smart. I know these things. There has to be a place for me in this world, and prostitution is not it.

I am not denouncing other escorts. If someone can do it and look in the mirror without feeling shame, more power to them. But I am not that kind of person. I am not that strong and I don’t have the spiritual and emotional foundation neccessary to carry out a double life without regret.

I have lied to every person I know. I will never be able to openly discuss what I did in the last 9 months – not to my friends, my family, my future children, anybody. So, in a sense, I will always have to lie about it, but atleast I’m closing this awful chapter to my life and hopefully opening up something immensely more fulfilling – a life where people like me for more than my looks and where sex is as sacred and powerful as it is meant to be.