In a world where the services of sex workers are often viewed through a transactional lens, the relationships forged between patrons and companions can be profoundly meaningful. These bonds frequently transcend financial arrangements, evolving into genuine friendships filled with love and care. I certainly know it has for me and at times, I have been confronted with how fragile and mortal we are as human beings.
The patron-companion relationship is distinctive in its depth and complexity. Unlike typical professional interactions, this relationship involves a high level of personal involvement and emotional investment. We often spend significant amounts of time with our patrons--often years developing and deepening our bonds beyond sexual encounters. We get to know their personalities, quirks and preferences, and if the relationship deepens, we begin to share our life stories, hopes, fears, and dreams. This closeness fosters a deep bond that can provide immense emotional support to both parties that goes far beyond the financial.
For many of us, the work is not just a job that we can discard as soon as the session is over. Some of us have deep empathy, compassion, and a genuine desire to make a positive difference in our patrons' lives. We care and show our caring through the giving of gifts, checking in when a loved one dies, and celebrating wins such as a promotion or positive life transition. This commitment to caring goes beyond the dinner dates or Chanel bags; it’s about being there for someone in their time of need, offering a shoulder to lean on, and providing true companionship that eases the loneliness and isolation that often comes with aging and/or illness.
I got the text: "I don't know where life has taken you these days, but I just wanted to let you know that I am still among the living. I had a fall as I am on chemo. I am in the hospital and the food is shit."
Sometimes life places you right where you need to be. During my tour to Atlanta, I received the above text from a former client of mine. This guy literally watched me grow as a provider writing one of my first real reviews and subsequently became a true friend that I would occasionally visit off the clock as he regaled me with tales of his storied life. He always threw amazing holiday parties, was contagiously joyful, and was just an all around good human. He worked on several of my cars and was known to help ladies find their way in the Atlanta market as new providers. He is what many have come to know as a "hobbyist", but he wasn't the kind that gives you the "ick" or induces stomach churning cringe. He was always generous and a gentleman. I could tell he was down whenever he would text me, and at times over the years, he had expressed how lonely he was--especially after he was let go from his job due to ageism. I visited him in the hospital first thing in the morning the second day of my tour. I made him some of his favorites (within dietary guidelines), brought a few gifts, flowers, and ballons. My heart ached when I saw him. The ever present sparkle in his eye was gone. He was thin, his skin was pale and ashen, and I could tell that he was scared as his mortality was starring him in the face and could no longer be ignored.
I went to his bathroom and warmed some towels to hydrate and soften his papery thin skin before applying the unscented hand cream I always carry with me. "Black women are the only women who always have the good stuff." He said with a giggle. For a second, that sparkle returned to his eye. "Yeah, you'll never catch us out in public ashy. It's a sin in the Black community. You're lucky you're white. It doesn't show on your skin unless you look really close." We both had a good laugh. I sat and chatted with him for a few hours encouraging him to take small bites of food while catching him up on my travels, my education, and what it is like to finally live close to NYC in the quiet of NJ. I liked that he allowed me to gently fuss over him, fluffing his pillow while giving him a glimpse of my cleavage, adjusting the new blanket I bought him, and paging his nurse so that he could get to the bathroom.
I hope that my visit was uplifting and I hope that he pulls through this incident. As I flew home, I realized that many of clients skew older and that with each passing year, some of them will die moving on to whatever is beyond this earthly plane. I hope my visit offered him more than just another physical presence. My hope is that it provided emotional sustenance, reminding him that he is valued, loved, and cared for and that I am grateful for having known him and allowing him to fully know me and the positive impact he has had on my life.
The patron-companion relationship is believed to be one-sided. That we are money sinks and that we are only interested in travel, luxury goods, and what post gain the most traction on social media increasing our popularity among potential suitors. Sure, those people do exist, however; I would argue that the vast majority of sex workers report that their relationships with certain clients bring them joy, purpose, and a sense of accomplishment that transcends monetary compensation.
We also gain valuable life lessons from our clients, learning various skills such as investing, the art of negotiation, and especially the importance of forging deep human connections as we age. These experiences shape us as humans, broadening our perspectives on what it means to be a sex worker and enriches our personal lives, demonstrating that the act of caring is mutually beneficial.
He joked with me and said that he still has the hots for me and that I was giving him a "mental hard on". I replied, "I'm sure that tongue is still the true magic within the man, although I doubt the hospital staff would appreciate walking in on me riding your face." We both got a good laugh out of that one. As I embraced his hands in mine, I felt myself tearing up because this very well might have been the last time I saw him.
For some guys out there, seeing a sex worker can be a lifeline easing depression related to illnesses that seem to pile on each year as we age. I've come to realize that more and more with my client cohort. They are grateful for the time I put into curating our experience together and for my remembering their interests and the important events of their lives.
When we invest time and effort into truly understanding and supporting one another, we create connections that endure and enrich our lives in countless ways that transcend time.
In confronting the mortality of someone I deeply care for during this trip, I examined my own. I am reminded of how grateful I am for the experiences that I have been blessed to share with so many wonderful humans over the years that I have been in this industry. I am reminded that at the heart of every meaningful connection lies a simple truth: the act of demonstrating caring is one of the most powerful forces for good in the world.
Thank you for caring for me, Sir. I hope that you know I truly have cared for you and loved you with all of my heart with each passing year.