‘I actually think it’s a brilliant idea, babe,’ she responded, somewhat enthusiastically.
Wait, huh?
I scratched my head in confusion. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all. I replied impatiently. ‘Erm, what? That’s not the response I was expecting. Where’s the cussing out? Where’s the shouting? I thought you were gonna talk me out of it!’ I was outside the main entrance of the hospital by now, stamping my feet side by side in a bid to create some warmth. I refused to go back in until Sade spoke some sense into me.
‘Why would you think I would say that? I think it’s super empowering, and in a way, it puts you in the driver’s seat, doesn’t it? And if all else fails, you could just see it as a completed side mission, you know? Like those quests you’re always trying to complete inZelda. Chalk it up to the game!’
I almost felt betrayed. I couldn’t believe she was on board. She was supposed to be the sensible one.
‘Yeah, but what if—’ I started, and was immediately cut off.
‘Bitch, life is too short for ifs and buts, let’s be real. You only have one life, and you want to fill it with as many memorable and random moments as possible, you get me? You’ve been doing the dating thing for ages and people keep taking the piss. Take the bull by the horns and shag as many guys as you can on YOUR watch. Why? Because you deserve it. Now, we’ll talk about this later – I popped outside to chat to you and I’m freezing my arse off. Love you!’ and with that, the phone went dead.
I stared at my phone in disbelief. Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Chapter 3
Once I was back at the office, I let Kofi head off for his lunch break, leaving me with a solid hour to sit in solitude and reflect on the questionable life choices that had brought me to this moment. A few minutes went by before I noticed that Sade was calling me, again.
‘Can you talk?’ she said breathlessly; it sounded as if she were running up a staircase.
‘Yeah, for a few minutes, it’s not that busy in the office today,’ I replied, sucking on my pen cap nervously. Maybe she’d had a change of heart. Maybe this was where the real dragging was to begin.
‘OK, so …’ began Sade. ‘Sorry I locked you off so quickly, I was outside when you called. So here’s how I see it, yeah? I think it’s safe to say that when it comes to dating in this here London, it fucking sucks, right? As women, we put so much effort into making ourselves look good, sound good, SMELL good, all to go on a date with a guy that turns up looking trash and talking shit, only for them to have the rabid ass audacity to expect us to go halves on a date!’ I could sense she was projecting here, but allowed her to continue as no lies had been told thus far.
‘So like … I don’t see anything in paying for a service that allows us to have the experiences we deserve. I think it’sempowering, and if men can do it, why can’t we?’ Sade had a point, I feared.
On one hand, I understood where she was coming from, especially the female empowerment angle, and being able to dictate how and when we as women experience pleasure and joy, but on the other hand, I couldn’t get over the shame I felt in having to resort to paying to be made to feel good. Why would I have to pay for it, when other women around the world could get this treatment for free, with men who wanted to treat them to the best?
‘I hear you,’ I responded, a bit deflated. ‘I guess I assumed you wouldn’t be on board with the idea, and it just low-key annoys me that it feels as if I’m feeding into a stereotype.’
‘What do you mean, hun?’ Sade replied.
‘Just that, when you tend to look at who typically pays for sex or company,’ I began, wanting to choose my words carefully, ‘it’s never the super attractive, super slim or acceptably curvy women who are doing it, innit? It always seems to be be the undesirable dregs of society that end up having to pay for it.’ I hear Sade laugh on the other end, even though I was being totally serious.
‘Um, Cass – I’d hardly call you a “dreg of society”, as you so put it – I’ma need you to have a lot more confidence in yourself; and while I hear what you’re saying, in this case I just don’t think it’s the same. See it as you RECLAIMING your dating autonomy!’
‘Reclaiming my dating autonomy.’That had a nice ring to it, actually. I guessed if I spun it that way, I could perhaps replace the initial shame I felt with a sense of righteousness about the whole thing. Was I really about to message a sex worker for a date? For Sade of all people to co-sign this random act, that definitely said something. Maybe I was doing the right thing, surely there could be no harm in it – what was the worst that could happen?
‘You have a point, I guess. I’m a bit nervous of doing it, and if I DO do it, you can’t tell a soul. Listen. Not a SOUL, Sade. We’ve gotta keep it between us, OK?’ I muttered the last sentence through clenched teeth as a way to emphasise the seriousness of this whole situation.
‘Oh, girl, please, I ain’t telling anyone. As long as you keep me up to date with who you’re seeing; name, car reg etc. Can’t have you randomly turning up missing, can we? These London streets are tough, man. Oh, babe, this is so exciting! Honestly, even if you only do it once, just for banter, at least you can say you’ve done it, right? I wanna hear all about it, and also, send me a cute picture of you just in case you go missing and the news stations ask me for a portrait of you, ’K?’
I sighed. Do it for the plot; why not? Jericho seemed like the best of an awkward bunch in any case. ‘Thanks, babe, I’ll keep you informed IF I do it. Jeeze, man, I can’t believe this is what it’s come to, you know. And for you of all people to co-sign this randomness too.’ Sade chuckled heartily, her high-pitched voice echoing through the phone and into the office. ‘Sis? If I tell you the absolute scum I’ve been seeing on these dating apps? It’s a jungle out here, man. I’m this close to probably hiring someone myself. Godspeed indeed.’
I got off the phone with Sade and after tying up a few emails and delivering some paperwork to a couple of the departments on the floors below me, I returned to my desk and took my phone out again; thankfully, Kofi was still on his lunch break so I wouldn’t be peppered with questions.
I scrolled again to Jericho’sOuiMeetprofile; his ‘last online’ tab showed that he was online a mere twenty minutes ago and had replaced his main profile photo with a new one: a professionally shot studio photo of him wearing a tight white vest with a dog tag chain, teamed with some dark-blue baggy jeans and a pair of Timberland boots. A man of taste. I wonderedwhat his demographic was. I looked through his menu again; how much was I prepared to spend? Would he even accept me as a ‘client’? What if he had a certain type of person he went for? Were they even allowed to have types? I felt a twinge of guilt about my last thought [#TeamAutonomyAlways], but I couldn’t help but wonder, just in case he didn’t respond. I didn’t think I would be able to live with the shame of being rejected by a sex worker whose job it is to spend intimate moments with someone for money.
I hovered over the ‘delete profile’ button. This was crazy.
I thought about everything Sade had said earlier. Outside of assault and/or murder, what was the worst that could happen? Well, for one, my parents finding out. I pressed the button, which signalled a ‘Are You Sure You Want to Permanently Delete Your Profile?’ prompt. Spontaneity had never been my strong suit – maybe it was time for me to start taking control of my life.
My finger found its way back towards Jericho’s profile instead.
Fuck it. Let’s do it for the plot, Cassie! ‘You only live once’ and all that. Before contacting, I had to figure out what I wanted. Should I opt for an hour-long FaceTime call with him – a sort of pre-date consultation – if you will? Or head in straight for the four-hour date? I pondered having a video call with him beforehand so he could get a full look at me and decide if he even wanted to take me out. What a concept. I exhaled as I heard Kofi’s footsteps round the corner to our office – I had to be quick.
I tapped the ‘FaceTime/Video Call (1 hour)’ option on his profile, which instantly directed me to a payment page along with a calendar to book our session. By a stroke of luck, Jericho had an available slot that evening at 8 p.m. Without hesitation, I selected the time, entered my phone number, and quicklykeyed in my card details, trying to outrun the wave of shame creeping back over me. Just as I hit confirm, the notification came through – right as Kofi walked through the door.
