Back to School: the Next Chapter
I've been studying at University for about eight weeks now, and it's reminding me of all the things I love about escorting.
Let's start with the timetable. I'm not a creature of habit, so the idea of regularly turning up to the same place each week is horrifying. It's always startling when I arrive at my Monday morning lectures to find the same people, the same faces - I'm used to meeting new people, not hanging out with the same ones every week! Not to mention the fact that I'm used to ONE PERSON AT A TIME. In my first week, the sheer number of people (and all the associated chatter) was totally overwhelming. I wanted to take my lecturers aside and say "can't we just do a one-on-one?"
The second problem is the fact that I'm expected to submit assignments, and be marked on them. As someone who has been their own boss for about ten years, I heartily resent anyone who even SLIGHTLY appears to be taking the role of my boss, whether it's paid or unpaid. And when the other students start talking about their careers after uni, I'm left with nothing to add to the conversation. After all, I'm not planning on looking for a job when I graduate. I already have a great one, thanks. I'm just here to have fun! I suspect my situation might not impress everyone - nobody likes having a classmate who's so laid-back that they don't even care whether they pass the tests. So far, I've kept it a bit quiet and just let them think I'm another aspiring journo.
And lastly .... I'm going to sound so ridiculous, but ... the food is really bad. I mean, for someone who's become accustomed to fine dining, eating at the cafeteria is the biggest #firstworldproblem ever. Although university campuses have some pretty gourmet options these days, my particular building is at the quiet end of the block and all we have is a tiny little coffee shop that serves sandwiches. I mean, it doesn't even sell red wine! Getting through my night classes would be a whole lot easier if I could duck out for a civilised drink in the lunch break...
There are some good things: although studying at university as a mature-age student might seem intimidating, the truth is that not much in the world is scary after you're worked as an escort. No social situations, no intellectual challenges, none of those faze me. I'm so used to meeting new people and taking charge of situations that being in a class full of writers is a bit like going back to kindergarten. I remember the first day, when we had to write for a few minutes and then read our work out to the class. It was nerve-wracking, for sure. But as I stood in front of fifteen other students with a piece of paper in my hand, I thought 'Well, it isn't as bad as the time I did that five-woman reverse gang-bang." When you've been naked in front of a room full of people, reading aloud to a room full of people feels totally fine.
The best thing of all is that creative folks are incredibly accepting. I'm surrounded by writers of all ages and backgrounds, but they barely bat an eyelid when I stand up to recite my sex work stories in class. I've come out to everyone, in one way or another. In journalism class we all had to interview each other and write biographies for the people we had just met - the task of writing my bio fell to a lovely little old lady who specialises in children's books. She gamely struggled through, and when it came time she got up in front of the class and read them the story of my life as an escort. Her delivery was perfect - not a single awkward moment. Everyone who listened took it seriously. I think I'm a bit in love with them all.
So, it's not all bad. In fact I'd say that, as an escort back at uni, I'm thoroughly enjoying myself.