It’s easy for people to view a woman who regularly spends time in hotel suites and airports, traveling through world cities, as living a glamorous lifestyle. One would perceive her to be a top earner in her field.

Social media is, in many ways, a wonder—and a delusion. We are all trying to present ourselves as something far greater than we truly are.

Being in this industry, it’s easy to compare oneself to others and the lifestyle they are projecting onto the world. Regularly, I see women in my industry enjoying amazing dinners, staying in magnificent hotels, being whisked off to islands, sitting in private jets, and receiving designer jewelry in red, green or blue boxes.

Since becoming a high-end companion, I haven’t personally experienced that behavior. I know that male generosity exists. However, my knowledge of it came from a time when I lived in Europe and was not a professional companion. I was a regular businesswoman. My UK and EU lovers invited me all over the world, staying in prestigious resorts, and their gifts were extraordinary. NetJets in the Netherlands would tell the men about the amenities I enjoyed on board. After all, the NetJets fleet based at Eindhoven Airport had previously been owned by my late husband, and after his passing, men I dated regularly sent for a plane to collect me.                                                                                    

 

 

Fast forward, and I now live in the USA. Regularly, I turn on my work phone to face bargain hunters. Regularly, I feel like men here in the USA view me as the dollar tree or free market in a third-world country. Communicating regularly via social media and text messaging has made me discerning about whom I invest my energy in. It’s safe to say I meet fewer than 1 to 5 percent of the people who attempt to interact with me.

Planning a tour to a city is a lot of work. In the 4-5 years I’ve done this work, airline and hotel pricing have risen and fallen with enormous extremes. Planning a tour in the Midwest can be just as expensive as flying across the US to stay in Manhattan.

Recently, I planned a tour to NYC. I began advertising one month before and sent out my newsletter two weeks prior to my arrival. Several clients expressed interest. I booked my hotel three weeks in advance to get the best rate.

Forty-eight hours before flying to New York, I had not received a single deposit. Yet several men had expressed interest in seeing me. The question in my mind was: should I cut my losses on the $300 spent on advertising, or do I take a leap of faith and just go? I logged onto the hotel app to cancel my reservation, but I was no longer within the 48-hour cancellation window. I called the hotel to see if maybe I could persuade them over the phone, but due to a slowdown in business, my loyalty status had been downgraded, and they would not honor a late cancellation.

I decided to pull myself together and go for it. New Yorkers are often last-minute, but I’m sure it will be just fine. I booked an economy-class flight, checked my credit cards to make sure there were funds available, and headed off to New York.

Twenty-four hours before my arrival, someone I’d met once sent a deposit and wanted to meet immediately after I landed. I was thrilled. He is young, fun, and will be a great start to my two-night, three-day visit.

Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law kicks in, and weather delays changed my 5:00 PM arrival to 10:00 PM. I’d missed my date, and I needed to refund his money. He and I had several voice calls while I was on layover, and he completely understood the situation as a regular business traveler himself. He was kind and said, “ Keep the deposit —maybe we can work something out while you’re here, if not on your next trip”. What a gentleman. I arrived at my hotel just before midnight, exhausted after the long, exhausting day of travel.

Day 1: The most important thing I’ve learned is to have a cup of coffee and not eat before turning on my work phone.

When I turn it on, there are 15 messages.

The first nine are casual greetings —“hi” “hey” “hi babe” “u av now” “???” And the six remaining messages are 1) a disgusting dick pic; 2) a 19-year-old student with $90 and hope; 3) a call from a country with limited resources asking me if I want to travel with him across America when he visits for FIFA; 4) a dubiously illiterate message at 3 AM from someone in Staten Island wanting to meet right now for 30 minutes outcall; 5) a message from someone visiting NYC in September, that would like to book a one-hour appointment and see how it goes; 6) a guy asking if I have a 15-minute incall rate and if I swallow.

Needless to say, nothing of it was worth my time. I delete everything, get dressed, and go for a walk to buy some bottled water. I probably just need to clear my head, go to the gym and hope that my fate will change.

Upon my return, I see my 7 PM appointment has been canceled. He needs to fly out of town and promises to cover my cancellation fee. He is a man I’ve known for several years; I’ve met him once in New York and once in London. He basically has a high likelihood of canceling. I no longer charge him the full cancellation fee, but I’ve created a special rate since I know I won’t see him.

The score: 1 deposit and one canceled appointment fee. I am sad and feel unsuccessful. I take time for meditation and yoga before heading to the gym. I need to clear my head before I burst into tears and don’t recover.

Around lunchtime, I met a girlfriend’s daughter who works in the city. As I say goodbye to her, she recommends the rooftop bar across the street from where we ate lunch. “Why not” I think. I have nothing lined up during my trip, and I might as well enjoy the beautiful weather with a great view.

It’s a glorious day in New York City. The view was spectacular, and I feel blessed. NYC, to me, will always be a magical city. Feeling the wind in my hair, sipping Prosecco, I looked down at my phone to see that multiple emails had arrived. 

“What are you doing? I may actually have time tonight if you want to get together.” I respond with a picture of me at the rooftop and a message saying, “ if you want me to get off of this barstool, you better make it worth my time”. I’m at a point where I truly don’t mind if anything happens, because I’m enjoying the view. My phone pings. I look down to realize a significant amount of money has landed in my Venmo. An email follows with instructions to visit an exclusive lingerie store that is by appointment only. Needless to say, I ordered an Uber and headed straight there.

A paradigm shift: instantly, I go from being sad and trying to make the best of an unfortunate business trip to being a spoiled woman with a fun night planned ahead.