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First blog in half a year

It's been a long time since I've written on here. I made it private about 6 months ago. Truth be told it was because I didn't want Meg to read what I'd written on here anymore. Yet there was also this voyeuristic thrill of knowing she did read my journals, even after we split up.

Still, it feels like it's been long enough, and I wanted to actually write about where things are headed.

Me and meg haven't met in person since mid-January. The dynamic in online conversations changed when I told her I needed space. The energy invested wasn't returned in kind. She felt distant, sometimes cold. Loading up on smilie responses when I said I wasn't ready to meet up yet. It'll be 3 weeks on Saturday with no contact. I got to a point where I thought I'm tired of putting out so much energy. A friendship is reciprocal, and whilst I know she repeatedly told me she wasn't huge on instant messaging - I also saw how she was after we split up. When her phone went off, she checked it. Why then did I receive such delayed replies? It hurt to be honest.

Although a lot of this still hurts. It's approaching 9 months since we broke up and emotionally I'm still quite attached. I also feel a fair amount of anger and resentment. Part of the grieving process perhaps.

I begin shadowing a carer next week. They said it normally isn't paid, but the guy in HR said he'd pay me half the hourly rate. A sign of how well we got on in the interview perhaps. A kind gesture.

Home life feels quite awkward at present. Since mum asked me if I loved or even liked her. She told me a few weeks back that she thought I never loved dad, and I said that was true. But truth be told what she asked me, isn't really a question anyone should ask. It's felt quite awkward since, but in a way I'm glad I said what I did. I didn't outright say I don't love her or like her. Truth is though, I don't.

Once I start working, my days will be very long. I think it might help distract from the loneliness and Meg. Perhaps. I do feel very alone though, and it's been quite painful in recent months. I invested a lot of time in Meg after we split up. Messaging daily, meeting up several times a week. After cutting out Guy, Marcus and Jack - Meg was the only local friend I had. Now I have none.

Today though, I met with Tara. A woman I got speaking to on Facebook dating. We spent 3 hours walking around a nature reserve. It was a pleasant time. I noticed when I got home I felt like I was waiting for her to reply. Just like when me and Meg first met. But the connection with Tara wasn't as strong. I kept busy and things were ok.

Truth is I don't want to date for a prolonged period. Towards the end of last year I did something I never thought I'd do - I saw an escort. A beautiful, Brazilian woman worthy of being a fashion model. The sex was sub-par, but the conversation afterwards was very pleasant. However, her English wasn't the best. 2 weeks later I met an English escort. Slightly older, and a very kind hearted soul. I met her again last month. The conversation truly was incredible, and there's a real openness to discussions after you've had sex and are lying in bed, naked.

I've always been drawn to people who have known struggles, and have emotional depth. Lets be honest now, an escort will have experienced a lot. They know suffering. Hence why the conversation and the bond feels appealing to me. I made sure I visited independent women. Not funding sex trafficking or anything like that.

Today I met a Columbian escort. Her English was good, and at times when she struggled she brought up Google translate and simply spoke, or asked me to speak. The conversation was back and forth and flowing. She told me she works 3 months on, then 3 months back home in Columbia. She has 2 daughters. Her husband died in an RTA and a few months later, with 2 children and struggling for money, she became an escort. She reminded me a bit of my first girlfriend. Not in terms of looks - but the fact she speaks Spanish and has that wonderful, intense Hispanic energy to her.

We had a very deep conversation. I asked her what her plans for the future was. She's going to retire from escorting in the near future and return back to Colombia. I queried if doing what she does changed her opinion of men. Much like the Brazilian escort I saw last winter, she told me half of the men are horrible. Either unattractive, old, fat, or just plain nasty people. That's why I feel quite out of place. I've only told 3 friends about seeing escorts. All of them thought it was quite unlike me. One was outright offended, and has distanced herself from me ever since.

Still, I don't really mind to be honest. It's too expensive to ever become addictive. Truth be told, it reminds me of a scene in the Sopranos, where the owner, and escort who worked at a brothel says to Tony something along the lines of "Who wouldn't want to have sex with their therapist."

For plenty of men who go I'm sure it is a power and dominance thing. For me, I just want to share a special moment. Something that stands out. Every one of them has sung my praises. Now you could argue that's just what they do/say to clients. But in my gut, I knew that what they say is true.

Today, Michelle opened the door and immediately started swooning. Oh my God, you're so handsome. Not going to lie, I've been told that a fair amount from foreign women, and I love how they say it with a foreign English accent. She also loved that I was slim and toned, as it turns out a lot of people who visit her aren't attractive, and many are very disrespectful. I'm seemingly out of place when it comes to visiting an escort. Most men are in relationships, and a lot of them are quite aggressive. Whereas I'm very kind, gentle, open, and I treat the time we share together as something special. Yes, it's paying for someone's company - but I think it's actually a therapeutic experience, and the time we share, and the conversations we have will stay with me.

I told her briefly about my van, my plans for the future, my art, and my mental health. When I spoke of depression she told me firmly "No. You mustn't. Life is too short. Please, try to wear a smile." Would it were so simple. But I appreciate where she's coming from. Also, she's clearly known a lot more suffering than me, and I could feel a real strength and determination in her.

At one point she said I could be a gigolo. It made me chuckle a bit, but it's not like I haven't considered it in the past. She said I could make up to £200 an hour. I said to her, then I'd earn in 3 days what will take me 1 month and very long hours in this new job.

Still, it's not for me. I wouldn't want to be with random people I wasn't attracted to. I'm very picky when it comes to what I find attractive and unattractive.

We chatted, and gently carressed each others skin. There were laughs, and lots of eye contact. Not long before our time was up, she cuddled up to me, held me in her arms and softly stroked my hair. Then, she reached into her bag on the table and put some cream on my face. As my skin has been flaring up quite bad recently. It was such a kind gesture. I knew as soon as she got up to look in her bag what was going to happen. Truly, a lovely thing to do.

After I left I sent her a text, but I used Google Translate to send it in her native Spanish. I thanked her for a lovely time, and said she was a beautiful and lovely person.

She replied back to me with something that I think I will remember for a very long time:

"Gracia mi pelo rokjo maravilloso. Recuerda sonreir."
Thank you my wonderful red head/hair. Remember to smile.

Ed

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Raggamuffin
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