escort diary® of Jolie: To the man who almost books me
I know you're here. You've been here before.
I don't know your name, I don't know what you do or where you live or what you look like. But I know you exist because most of you tell me that you come here often, read my profile it carefully, stay longer than someone who was just browsing, and then leave without saying a word.
You've done this more than once.
Maybe more than a few times.
Maybe you've read every diary entry I've written.
Maybe you've read this one and you're already feeling caught, which is a little uncomfortable, and I'm sorry about that, but also not really, because this letter is for you and you should probably keep reading.
I want to talk to you. Not to sell you something, I think we're past that, you've read the profile, you already know what I offer and you already know you want it.
I think you open my profile and something in you responds, maybe it's the writing, maybe it's the photos, maybe it's a specific line somewhere that made you think she'd understand. And for a moment the whole thing feels possible: you can see the evening, you can almost feel what it would be like to sit across from someone who is actually paying attention to you, and the wanting is real and it's strong and it's right there.
And then the other part of your brain shows up.
You know the part, the part that asks questions designed to stop you: what if she's not like the profile, what if it's awkward, what if I can't perform, what if she judges me, what if someone finds out, what if I'm being stupid, what if I get there and I don't know what to say, what if I get there and I say too much, what if this is a mistake I can't undo.
The questions are endless because their function is not to get answers, it's to prevent action. Your brain has identified this as a risk, emotionally, socially, physically, in every way a thing can be risky, and it is doing what brains do with risk: it is generating an infinite list of reasons not to move.
Not because the reasons are good.
Because the list itself is the point.
As long as you are thinking about whether to do it, you are not doing it, and not doing it is safe, and safe is where your brain wants you to stay.
I understand this. The fear is not irrational, it is the appropriate response of a nervous system that has identified a situation involving vulnerability, unfamiliarity, and the possibility of rejection, and has decided that the correct strategy is to gather more information indefinitely.
You're just a person whose threat-detection system is doing its job. The problem is that its job and your happiness are, in this particular case, working against each other.
So let me give you some information that your brain hasn't been able to get from rereading my profile.
You will be nervous. This is fine.
I have written an entire diary entry about why nervousness is not a problem, it is possibly the most useful thing you can walk in with, because it means you care about the outcome, and people who care about the outcome are the only people I'm interested in spending time with.
Your nervousness will not surprise me, annoy me, make me think less of you.
It will make me think: good, he's still getting past the fear and... he's still here.
You will not know what to say, this is also fine because I will. Not because I have a script but because I have spent years learning how to make a room feel safe for someone who doesn't yet know that it is. I will ask you something, you will answer, I will ask something else... at some point you will realise you are talking, actually talking, not rehearsing, and the transition will have happened so gradually that you won't be able to identify the moment it started.
You might not perform the way you want to, I have written about this too: your body might not cooperate with your intentions.
This is normal and it changes nothing about the evening.
I am not evaluating you, I am not keeping score, I am not going to remember you as the man whose body was nervous. I am going to remember you as the man who showed up despite being nervous, and that is a fundamentally different story.
Nobody will find out, I am more discreet than your bank. This is not just professional practice, it is a core value. Your privacy is not a feature I offer, It is a condition of everything I do: the door opens, the door closes, and what happens between those two events belongs to us and no one else.
You are not being stupid, you are being brave. There is an enormous difference and I need you to hear it. Stupid is doing something without thinking. You have been thinking for weeks, possibly months, you have read everything I've written, you have considered it from every angle, you have weighed the risks and the costs and the unknowns. That is not stupidity, that is due diligence performed by a person who takes himself seriously. The only part you haven't done yet is the part where you actually move, and the moving is the part that no amount of research can prepare you for, because it requires a different system entirely. Not the thinking system. The deciding system. And the deciding system only activates when you stop reading and start writing.
A message, that's all it is. Afew words on a screen, where you don't have to be charming, you don't have to be impressive, you don't have to know the etiquette or the protocol or the correct way to address an escort you've been silently reading for months. You just have to introduce yourself, explain what you have in mind (which could be nothing or unknown).
I will respond, I will be warm, I will not make you feel foolish for having taken this long. And when we meet, I will not ask you why you waited, or it will genuine curiosity to get to know the workings of your mind.
You already know what you want... you've known for weeks.
The only thing left is to let yourself have it.
I'll be here, I'm not going anywhere. And the next time you open this profile, which is now, while reading, I'd like it to be the last time you leave without saying hello.
Say hello, the rest is easy.
I promise.
