Okay,from now on, just 'phone sex job...

So, once again I’ve left it a long time between entries. Time seems to just fly right now. I've had a busy spell of six months or so and even tho it’s good to be busy, I’m also friggin knackered.
The Telephones are quiet right now. It school holidays which stops those stay at home dads (whether they be working or dole bludging) from calling. Usually this can be balanced out by less Operators logging on, as they have the kids abou they obviously can’t take calls, however, this week has been a washout for me so I’ve been taking it easy, catching up on sleep and other things. Been doing some reading of other blogs. Fugly Horse of the Day is one of my faves, Go Fugly!

Working on the phones can get to me sometimes, so it’s good to have a break. You have to take the kind of shit you wouldn’t take if you weren’t getting paid for it. Just their manners really, or lack of them.
It’s a bit like prostitution. You pretend to like the sex, you pretend to like the conversation, you pretend to like the person, but the reality is, you rarely like all of those three aspects on one job, so you fake one, if not two of them. Sometimes all three. But you walk away with a wad of money and a secret smile, and it’s all so exciting.
Well, it was when I started out in 1984.
I admit, I said it, the thing that all newcomers say; “I’m only going to do it for a year or so, to get a decent amount of money together to…” and all the Old Pro’s said the stock reply “You’ll get addicted to the money you know, we all do. You’ll be doing it for a lot longer than a year”
Not me, I thought. Then, 15 years later I was in London, still doing it. Okay the scenery had changed, the earnings were higher but it was still earned the same way-on my back.
What I miss most, apart from the money, is the massages. I used to get most clients to give me some form of massage and some were bloody good at it. I’m convinced to this day that is how I stayed so supple and never suffered from aches and pains, despite having a tough workout regime. It’s important to stay fit and fuckable if you are going to ask people to pay for the privilege.
Actually, who am I trying to kid. I miss a lot of it. I miss the companionship between the girls, as well as the competitiveness. I miss the fancy dinners, I miss the 3 day parties, I miss London in general I think, although the reality check of going back to live there stops me in my tracks.
Forty-Two and on the game in London? No thanks. I could be tempted to do a bit of escorting via an agency out here, and bloody hell, the way my finances look at the mo I just might have to, but I couldn’t face being one of those sad hags at the night clubs in London. Besides, it’s all changed. No doubt there would be one or two old souls I’d recognise from the West End (Ax, you old devil, where are you now, eh?) but I love my life right now.
Altho I wish I would get up off my arse and write that bloody book! The beginning is great, but I just cant seem to take it anywhere right now.
Then there’s the autobiography about how to fuck up your life. It’s why I never get around to writing about it here because I’m trying to write a book about it and I cant be arsed adapting it for the internet. I thought I could, hence the title of this blog. But sod it, I can’t. There, I’ve said it. Laid it to rest. Now I can crack on and tell you other shit and keep the book separate.
It’s bloody hard tho, when I’m logged on the phone and dickheads wanting telephone sex keep interrupting me!
Oh well, tis my job, I spose. Better crack on…