Relationships

So, today I found out my ex is a male escort

By Staff Writer December 2, 2016

Yep, the has-sex-for-money kind 

It's not often that you hear a twenty-something woman talk about her ex-boyfriend, the sex worker. But here I am, staring at the website of a guy I dated for three years, reading about his nightly rates (he's pretty optimistic, I must say). 

We broke up over a year ago now, but still, this news is taking a little while to digest. People pay to sleep with my ex. Actual sex. For real dollars.

I need a minute...

I think one of the greatest parts about this whole situation is how I found out. He didn't call and say, "Hey, how are you? Oh by the way, I'm a prostitute now." I didn't hear through mutual friends. Nope, I discovered his new er, career move because Instagram suggested that I follow his male escort account. 

That's not a euphemism for pornographic photos either. It's literally an account full of photos of regular things – beach trips and selfies – that happens to link to a website where you can pay to sleep with him. To be honest, the social media strategy is a little off.

I clicked on the page and read the bio which described him as a, "straight male escort". It was by far the weirdest realisation of my entire life. I felt like Luke Skywalker when he discovered his father was Darth Vader (read: horrified).  

I've spent the last five hours trying to calm down, and so far these three things happened:

1. I freaked out obviously, because this is insane.

2. I realised how wrong he was for me, which is fine. Man, are we on different paths right now.

3. I messaged my entire contacts list, and now everyone is asking me if I'm OK. The answer to which is yes (see point two).

It still doesn't mean I'm going to calm down though; this guy, who avoided family gatherings, hated social events and was uncomfortable meeting new people now charges a fee to do those very things (and a few others) with strangers. 

It's so interesting with past lovers; you spend such a significant amount of time with them, but once that period is over (or about to be) they can become completely different people. Some might randomly join a punk band, shave their head, or declare their love for artsy photography, while others – like my ex – decide that they're Deuce Bigalow. Whatever the circumstance, that feeling when you look at – or stalk – someone and think, "how on earth did I date you?" is full on.

Yeah, I've got a whole lot of that going on right now.  

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