escort diary® of Claire Keeler

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That is the one question I get asked the most. Well, that and can I cum in your arse?  Do I have a hubby tucked away somewhere?  Nope, there is no Mr. Claire Keeler.
I have plenty of other people's husbands. Most of the time I am at peace with that.  I am fairly sure that some of my married clients fuck me more than they fuck their wives. I am also at peace with that.   Running into a client and his wife (plus the kiddies) on Saturday makes me think that the whore gods are punishing me for leading a debauched lifestyle off the back of other peoples marriages.   The gods made me walk straight into a lovely scene of happy ever after amongst the ferns and strawberry trees.  I am not without guilt at times. Not always at peace with fucking married men for money.  I also know that peaceful serenity I witnessed would not be so peaceful if he did not see me every three weeks.
I don't know. Maybe I am talking guilt-ridden shit.

I've been engaged twice, does that count?   Lived with someone for ten years, surely that's like being married? When we start talking about getting married is how I know a relationship is about to go to shit. Almost like the last ditch effort to make it work because getting married and having babies was going to make us not want to rip each other's faces off. At least it would give us something to talk about. Let's talk about planning a wedding for 12 months; then we can talk about pregnancy for nine months and then we can speak of the baby forever.  The weddings were never going to happen.  At least, with the second wedding, I managed to buy a dress (Collete Dinnigan) before it went to shit.
I kept the rings.  I may be a whore but I am not an idiot. I sold the dress. It was not white. There was no lace.  Never fancied the idea of sending out truck loads of invites. Public displays of "look at us, we are in love"  seem somewhat insincere to me. If you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, why the need for the fuss? I am probably more of a romantic than I give myself credit for though.  "You should marry for love and keep on marrying until you find it" (Mae West)  I was with the same man for my entire 20s. We met, we fell in love, we bought a house, we got engaged, we tried for babies. He was Irish. The children never arrived. So let's get married.  The charm of the Irish wears off after about five years. Then it's another 5 years of fighting in different accents.  I lived in Northern Ireland for some years. Why do you think I say cunt a lot? The best thing about that relationship was fried soda bread.   It was all very civilized until it was not. It was monogamous until it wasn't. Then it ended at Heathrow airport.

He called me a special kind of cunt. Not spoken to him since. Ain't love grand?

I regret my first engagement ending. I regretted not taking more of the Louis Vuitton when the second engagement ended. I am sorry for not selling the dress I did not pay for, for more. I regret that it took him only 12 months to realise that he was still paying for my Blackberry. Wish he had never noticed. I flit between wanting to get married or not. To quitting whoring or not. To be monogamous again or not.  To wanting to be with someone or not. To wanting to say 'this is my husband or meh.' Like Elizabeth Wurtzel said "They come, they go, someone is always coming as someone else is going; it's not like there's no one"  If I were to get engaged again, there would be no dress (no I don't mean naked).  it would be in a nice white shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of heels, veil, the bloke and just the two of us and a pub meal.  Not that I have given this any thought.

If you ask me what I look for in a husband, the answer will be someone I have that spiritual, emotive level of fucking with who I can sit on the balcony and drink whiskey with.  That feeling of complete connection.

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