escort diary® of Amity Addams: SEASON ONE: THE STORY FINALLY BEGINS
Last year I turned 28ish + GST. The year before, I was Suddenly 30. This year, unfortunately, even creative accounting isn’t going to save me.
I’m 32.
Carrie Bradshaw was 32 when Sex and the City began. Bridget Jones was 32 when we first met her. Lorelai Gilmore was 32 when Gilmore Girls began.
Apparently, 32 is when iconic women get their opening credits.
So naturally, I’m taking that as a sign.
The first 31 years? Backstory. Character development. A few questionable plotlines and several episodes we won’t be revisiting.
At 32, the story finally begins.
Welcome to Season One of Amity.
PREVIOUSLY ON AMITY…
Thirty-one was quite a year. There were beautiful hotel rooms, ridiculous stories, new faces, familiar favourites, late nights, early flights and more time living out of a suitcase than I probably care to calculate.
There were dinners that turned into nights we didn’t want to end, weekends that disappeared far too quickly and dates that became stories I’ll still be laughing about years from now. There were cities I returned to, places I saw for the first time and plenty of moments that reminded me why I built this strange little life in the first place.
But my favourite part has been the people woven through it.
Some of you have been appearing in these stories for years now. You’ve watched Amity change, travelled with me, celebrated things with me, introduced me to places I might never have found on my own and become wonderfully familiar names appearing on my phone.
Others have only just arrived. And there are some of you reading this who have been quietly watching from the sidelines for far too long.
Yes, I’m talking to you.
Thirty-one taught me that I don’t need more of everything. I want more of the good stuff. More dates I’m genuinely excited about. More time with people whose company I enjoy. More adventures worth remembering.
And far fewer reasons to look at the clock.
WHO IS AMITY?
Apparently a question requiring an entire VHS collection.
If you’ve met me, you already know photographs only tell part of the story.
There’s the Amity you see online: black hair, blue eyes, tattoos, lingerie, heels, beautiful hotels and an alarming number of photographs in bathtubs.
Then there’s the Amity you actually get.
The one who talks too much when she’s excited. Who will happily dress up for somewhere beautiful and then suggest dessert back in bed. Who loves a carefully planned evening but can be very easily convinced into an adventure. Who can spend the afternoon exploring somewhere new and be equally happy disappearing into a hotel room with nowhere else we need to be.
I like beautiful restaurants, ridiculous conversations, slow mornings, spontaneous plans and that point in a date where everything relaxes and it stops feeling like a date at all.
That’s the version of me a website can’t really sell you.
You have to meet her.
Perhaps that’s why so many of my favourite bookings aren’t really bookings anymore. They’re reunions.
And why I’m always a little curious when someone new comes along and just… fits.
A LITTLE MORE INTENTION
If 31 taught me anything, it’s that being available all the time doesn’t make life more interesting.
So 32 is going to look a little different.
Less “when can I fit this in?” and much more “does this make sense?”
I don’t want to build my days around being constantly available. I don’t want every empty space in my calendar to automatically become an invitation to fill it. And I certainly don’t want this wonderful, strange part of my life to ever start feeling like I’m simply clocking in.
I want intention.
That means you’ll see a little less of me, but when you do, I want it to be because we’re both genuinely looking forward to it.
Some weeks I’ll be in Brisbane and happy to make plans. Other weeks I’ll be somewhere else entirely, working on something creative, travelling, living my life or simply unavailable because I’ve decided to be.
I think that’s a good thing.
Because the Amity you meet should be the one who is excited to open the door. The one who has been looking forward to your name appearing in her calendar. The one who actually has the time and energy to disappear into our little world with you rather than wondering what she has scheduled next.
So this year, availability won’t always mean available.
The right date at the right time will matter more than simply having a space in my diary.
I’m not disappearing. I’m becoming more selective about where, when and with whom I appear.
And perhaps being a little harder to find is rather fitting for a best kept secret.
THE YEAR EVERYTHING STARTS
This birthday feels different. Not because I’ve suddenly become sensible. Let’s not get carried away.
But I am increasingly certain about how I want to spend my time.
I want more stamps in my passport and fewer dates dictated by a clock. More beautiful dinners that turn into late nights. More mornings waking up somewhere neither of us calls home. More weekends disappearing together. More experiences that begin with “I’ve always wanted to…” and end with a story neither of us expected.
I want familiar faces in unfamiliar cities.
I want to be flown somewhere simply because you’ve decided it would be much more fun with me there.
I want to meet the person who’s read my website three times, knows exactly what they’d plan for us and has finally decided to stop wondering.
I want the kind of dates that make the photographs on this website feel like the least interesting thing about me.
My world is getting bigger, but my calendar is becoming smaller.
That’s intentional.
I don’t want to be available to everyone, all of the time. I want to be unforgettable to the people I choose to spend it with.
FOR THE RETURNING CAST…
If we’ve already met, you’ll know exactly what I mean when I say the best parts never make it onto this website.
They’re ours.
The restaurants. The rooms. The trips. The ridiculous things you’ve said that I will absolutely never let you forget. The little traditions that somehow appear when you’ve known each other long enough. The moment the door opens and neither of us needs an introduction anymore.
There’s something incredibly lovely about familiarity.
So if it’s been a while, perhaps this is your reminder that sequels exist for a reason.
Take me somewhere new. Come back to Brisbane. Steal me for dinner. Keep me overnight. Put a destination in front of me that I can’t possibly say no to.
You don’t need to wait for me to announce that I’m working.
If the timing makes sense and the idea is tempting enough, you might be surprised by how easily I can be persuaded.
AND FOR THE NEW CHARACTERS…
Maybe we’ve never met. Maybe you’ve been reading for months. Maybe you’ve hovered over the enquiry page before deciding not yet. Maybe you found me five minutes ago.
Here’s the thing.
There is never going to be a perfect opening line. You don’t need one.
Tell me where you want to take me. Tell me what you’ve been imagining. Tell me the date you keep thinking about booking, the restaurant you’ve wanted an excuse to try or the city where you think Amity would look particularly good beside you.
Give me something to look forward to.
With a smaller, more intentional calendar, planning ahead will always be the easiest way to find your way into it. But sometimes the right invitation at the right moment is all it takes.
The worst thing that can happen?
You remain someone who only knows the woman in the photographs.
And I happen to think the other one is much more fun.
NOW SHOWING: 32
Which brings us to this year’s birthday shoot.
A vintage television, popcorn, balloons, far too many VHS tapes and an entire collection of fictional Amity movies because apparently taking a normal photograph with a birthday cake was never going to be enough.
There’s The Amity Files. The Birthday Special. Who Is Amity? An unauthorised biography nobody authorised me to make in the first place.
And, of course, Season One.
My cake says it best:
THE BIRTHDAY SPECIAL. THE YEAR EVERYTHING STARTS.
And I think that’s exactly how I want 32 to feel.
Not another year disappearing behind me, but everything still waiting in front of me.
There are cities I haven’t explored with you yet. Restaurants where nobody has made a reservation in my name. Flights that haven’t been booked. Hotel rooms we haven’t disappeared into. Weekends that haven’t become stories.
There are familiar faces I haven’t seen enough of lately.
And there are people reading this whom I haven’t even met yet.
Maybe that’s you.
SEASON ONE
So here’s to 32.
To familiar favourites and intriguing new characters. To longer dates, later nights and slower mornings. To passport stamps, beautiful rooms, incredible dinners, unexpected adventures and the occasional decision that probably shouldn’t make it into the official biography.
To being less available, but more present.
To choosing where I want to be rather than simply being wherever I’m asked.
To making room for the people, places and experiences that are actually worth becoming part of the story.
The cameras are rolling. The opening credits are over.
Season One starts now.
To those who’ve been part of the story already, you know me well enough to know a good invitation rarely goes unnoticed.
To those who’ve been watching from a distance, perhaps 32 is the year you finally stop wondering.
Because despite the photographs, the stories and everything I choose to put online, the best part of Amity has never been available on demand.
She’s the part you have to discover for yourself.
And once you understand why they call me the best kept secret?
That’s ours to keep.
