“Hey, how would you feel about coming to my city and watching a bunch of hot people do exercise?” Asks a friend.
Thus begins my journey into Spartan Racing.
2020 was a big flop for me. I was burned out by January, in shape but plateauing, and a few months later all the gyms closed. When the world stopped, I stopped. I stopped everything. I didn’t take walks, even though I love them, I didn’t work out at all, despite access to a home gym setup, I didn’t run or hike or anything, and I picked up a nasty carbs habit. I rode the crest of the wave I had built up with regular pilates practice, but as it ebbed, I did nothing to replace it. It took years to get back to a baseline, but it wasn’t a baseline I was happy with.
So when I found myself at a crossroads, this innocent question held far more appeal than my fitness minded buddy thought it would.
Previously, in this particular group of three, I take on the caring role. I feed, I drive, I shop for supplies, and they do whatever sporting event they’ve dreamed up or decided to join. They would be forgiven for assuming I’d rather watch than run.
Too bad this time I wasn’t ready to stand by.
My gym has made some changes to their class structure so instead of daily pilates, I have to stick to twice weekly. How am I supposed to build this fine, fine booty on only two sessions a week? And how am I supposed to get excited to work out when I have nothing to work toward? Sure, I’d love to have an athlete’s figure, but cheese is far too easy to get around here so without a LOT of work (and a LOT of motivation to get it going) that’s impossible.
Enter the Spartan.
I think most people are familiar with Spartan races (and Tough Mudders and other such obstacle races) but if you’re not: imagine a 5k run peppered with monkey bars, climbing walls, enormous tires to flip over or hop through, vertical climbs, horizontal poles to clamber over and under, and more. Basically it’s a playground for adults who like structured play time. Sometimes it’s in a stadium and you have to go up and down the stairs. Sometimes they’re much longer, with even more grown-up playground equipment to navigate.
Suddenly, I had the perfect storm to hand. Plenty of time to train, a variety of very clear functional goals, and a social motivation component. It took me a week to decide to actually do it, and we’ve made a tiered bet so there’s actual money (and if I do well enough, a very nice bottle) riding on my performance, but now I am locked in and have a deadline.
For the past three months I’ve been trying new ways of exercising. I’ve been hiking (LOVE IT), running (only like it when it’s cold out), sprinting (not sure yet, that’s new), lifting weights (love the results), keeping up my twice weekly pilates (love it), and shoving yoga in here and there where I can.
Also for the past three months, I can’t shut up about it. My friends, my family, my patient, darling clients hoping to sneak a kiss in between words… have all put up with me waxing eloquent on pull-up drills, weight lifting form, how much I truly hate running, and the many details that have consumed my life of late.
I would just like to thank you for your support, your patience, and for being one of the reasons I can afford to do this. I marvel at the life I have available to me and it’s you who make it possible. I only hope that my stamina, exuberance, and impressive new muscles are enough to make listening to me gab on about my new journey worth it.
How delightful, that as time passes in its inexorable flow, people can grow and change, try new things and learn from them.
Previously, I have encouraged my lovers to meet me in the broad light of day. When an engagement requires I be at a certain place at a certain time, I and my various anxieties prevent me from relaxing in the time leading up to the appointment. This isn’t a problem when I’m only awake for a few hours, but when hours bleed into whole halves of days, I feel more keenly my inability to relax.
Well.
It turns out that those anxieties can be curbed through deliberate action. I have discovered that, while eight unfilled hours with a time bound task at the end of them unnerves me, eight hours that hold six hours of tasks within them feel very different.
I’ve recently taken on a challenge. The challenge involves activity. Background on the challenge will come with time but for now; the challenge craves daylight hours. You may have noticed that daylight hours are scarce this time of year, and between the challenge and my seasonal dejectedness, I’ve decided to try something new.
Enter: Winter hours.
Currently: I encourage people, both by my calendar and my rate structure, to visit me during daylight hours. For the near future: I propose an experiment.
I’m going to run an experimental special from Sunday, November 26 through Friday, December 1. My evening minimum will be two hours, down from four, and three hour appointments will be upgraded to four. I hope to test a hypothesis while also potentially meeting both friends who can’t make time during the day and others who could, but prefer evening dates.
Pending evidence for my hypothesis, I plan to continue the change with a small modification. Between December 3 and February 16: my evening hours will be a minimum of three (instead of four) and my four hour engagements will enjoy a loose upper limit (meaning we shall have our up to two hours En Abode and then dinner will take as long as dinner takes)
Terms and Conditions: I moved to my current location near the end of 2019. Right about when I settled in and got excited to explore eating in the area, Covid hit and they all shut down. I require that four hour appointments include food out in the real world and for the duration of winter hours, I strongly prefer we go grab a bite to eat somewhere nearby during three hour gatherings. I also require that appointments (excepting overnights, of course, and the occasional special event) be planned to end at or before 10p. I encourage a start time as close to 6pm as possible.
So get excited for cozy evenings in crowded restaurants, exploratory adventures to unknown eateries, and perhaps the odd fancy dress ball. If there’s a place you’ve always wanted to share that’s only open for dinner, now is the time.
Thank you my friends for your patience. It’s been a long time since I posted anything new and yet I’ve felt, and in some cases seen, your affection sent my way.
I’m not a big touring girl. I love travel, but I don’t do it often and I generally don’t do it exclusively to work. There are, however, a few places I go regularly and am even looking to meet some new friends here and there.
During the summers, I generally head in the direction of Spokane once a month or so. I am not *in* Spokane, I am about an hour away, but I am nearby. It’s not impossible that I’ll “retire” there eventually, and I wouldn’t mind having a few friends to keep me company. Until that happens, I won’t have a permanent location to host so appointments booked for Spokane will look a little different.
First, the good news. Spokane has a lower cost of living. Spokane *also* has a lower cost of me! Spokane rates are as follows:
Now for the catch: you must provide the room (or deposit equal to the going room rate plus 10%). And not just any room. We’re talking Davenport or equivalent. I want both of us to feel secure, comfortable, clean, and sexy. Once we have met a few times and gotten to know one another better, we can discuss meeting at your clean bachelor pad, but I like to stick to one new thing at a time. If I don’t know you, I’d at least like to know where I’ll meet you.
You’ll also want to plan ahead. Like I said: it’s a long drive into town and when I’m back east, I often have things to do I’ll want to plan around.
The other Eastern WA location I visit more than once a year is Walla Walla. Spring and Fall release are a tradition to attend and I require small prompting to visit throughout the year. I stay at the Marcus Whitman (when it’s not 100% sold out) and would LOVE to see any locals who want to share their time. Walla Walla rates are:
90 minutes – 800 2 hours – 1000 3 hours – 1500 Overnight – 4000 (and something from the Patisserie in the morning)
Again: planning ahead will be crucial. And if you don’t see a Walla Walla date on my calendar but you’d like to invite me down, feel free to reach out.
Fun bonus: all my darling Seattle clients may avail themselves of these special lower rates if they see me in Spokane or Walla Walla.
Screening requirements are the same and I cannot provide FBSM at this time. It’s a bit too conspicuous to travel with the table and conspicuous is the enemy of safety, especially in a big little small town.
I am looking forward to meeting, or re-meeting in some cases, darling friends from the rural areas who take their pleasure as seriously as I do but find a trip to Seattle a bit more than reasonable. See you soon!
It’s been a busy few weeks for me. Usually, that brings me joy, but coming on the heels of a very slow couple of months and at the same time as the release of Tears of the Kingdom, I found myself resenting things that I would otherwise enjoy.
Now, this doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy being busy. An evening at the opera, a night of sleepy snuggles, new friends, an outing with the folks, all brought their own delights and I am happy to have done them. But it contributed to an uncharacteristically black mood on a glorious early summer day.
I love walking. To the store, from the bus, around Greenlake, I will invent chores and destinations so I have an excuse to walk somewhere. I am fortunate that I have a variety of pedestrian friendly places to roam without needing a plane, train, or automobile to access them. As part of my self care, I try to take at least a short walk every day.
Which is why I was surprised at how resentful I felt towards this walk! I knew it was good for me, I had made plans to chat with a friend along the way, the sun was out but it wasn’t too hot… in a few words: the day was perfect, I was about to do something I enjoy, and I wasn’t happy about it.
I’m glad I did it anyway.
It took almost the entire walk to bring me around. An hour it took me, of soaking in sunshine, reminding myself to enjoy moments for what they are and not worry about what they aren’t, and listening to music. I was a few blocks from home when Chandelier by Sia came on my playlist and one lyric jumped out at me: “I’m gonna live like tomorrow does’t exist.”
What if today was my last day on earth? What would I wish I had done by the end? Would I really be upset that I spent a day with my best friend instead of gaming? Would I regret staying in bed all day instead of having a face-to-face heart-to-heart with my mom? Would I lay on my death bed wishing I hadn’t stopped quite so many times to say “I love you” to those I love?
And suddenly, my perspective shifted.
Instead of wishing I could abandon my professional and personal responsibilities, I remembered that there is a reason I opted into them, and those reasons are still real. I realized that there will always be tomorrow for frivolity, that I was glad to have done these important things, and that I could have it all. Eventually.
Sometimes it sucks to be a grown up. To have only yourself to blame when you can’t take a day off. To fret over the future and choose to do the responsible thing instead of the fun thing. But it is also empowering. I can choose to work hard at the things I value: my relationships personal and professional. And at the same time, I can choose to appreciate them. And I can choose to play, too.
So today I exercise, because it’s good for me and it feels good. I work, because it’s good for me, and it feels good. I tell my people I love them, because it’s good for me, and it feels good. I play, because it feels good, and that is good for me. And I take a fucking walk, because it turns out it’s good for me, even when it doesn’t feel good.
I had a delightful post ready for last week, or I thought I did, and I have plans to write about the opera in the coming week, but for today, I am taking my first day off in a week. Between a terrible cold, a friend in town, cat sitting, and some delightful visitors, I have had a tremendously full week. Next Thursday you’ll have much to see as I’ll have a backdated post for last week as well as a new one.
In the meantime, I am receiving heart containers from all my darlings and spending the afternoon enjoying the beautiful sunshine.
I’m on the Stranger’s mailing list for citywide events so I learn about all kinds of things to do. Most of the time I’m not that interested. Most concerts aren’t really my thing (I don’t like crowds or loud noises), and a lot of the “events” are just restaurants making up occasions to sell more food. Which is fine, but again with the crowds.
However, every few weeks something really jumps out at me. The Ballet was one. Turns out I’m not really that into ballet, but at least I tried it! HUMP is another. I knew about it, but having a timely reminder meant I got tickets and found a date this year instead of realizing too late that it’s time. And last month I saw an opportunity to spend an evening on the dance floor…. With fossils!!!
Burke After Dark is an event where the special exhibits area at the Burke Museum of Natural History is cleared out and in it’s place they put a dance floor, an open bar, and some nibbles. You can dance until you get sweaty and out of breath, then wander through the displays and exhibits for a while, then wander back to the dance floor. A little Lady Gaga, a little T Rex. A little Michael Jackson, a little cladogram. A little Disco, a little marsupial specimens.
It was a small group, most of them in their thirties or so, and as I took a moment to people watch, I felt this wave of warmth and belonging. I didn’t know a soul (other than my exceptional date, thank you my dear) but I knew them. The one guy getting super dirty with his girlfriend. The nice lady who kept checking to see who was watching her sweet dance moves. The crowd of girlfriends giving zero shits what other people were doing. It reminded me of prom, specifically of going to prom with my theater nerd friends. And all of these strangers gathered here, now, for this unusual crossover event.
There’s a special feeling of safety and belonging for me in those spaces. A place where there’s a crowd of people (but not a large crowd) and enough space to stand apart and observe. Soak it in a bit. I feel like this at parks, or book readings, or sitting in the corner alone at a restaurant: there are people, and they are happy, and they ask nothing of me. They offer without knowing it their camaraderie and I am free to accept it, or not, when I’m ready.
I remember one night, years ago, when I took my book to dinner. I sat up at the bar with my charcuterie plate and a glass of wine and my book, when about halfway through, we noticed each other. Down the bar, another woman and her book, and her charcuterie plate, and her glass of wine. And at the same time, at a table in the middle of the room, another. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the coincidence, but we gravitated to each other and wound up migrating to the table. “What book are you reading?” “Do you do this often?” “I’m so glad we met.” An hour later we had traded life stories, three of us spanning six decades, and shared a unique moment of community with strangers.
These moments, of solitary community, of serendipity, of solidarity, don’t come often. Sometimes I can manufacture them, but usually I just have to stay open and see what happens. This evening was a created opportunity. The organizers, myself, my date who let me talk them into an extravagant evening, the students and faculty tirelessly working, and the other attendees all had to go out of their way to make this happen. I am so grateful to everyone who did, and I am looking forward to the next one.
If you have not yet experienced this: you will. Your parents move (or you do) and find another box. It’s not their (your) stuff, it contains relics from a childhood past. Items left behind to wait for the day the child finds their own home, to be retrieved and cherished. Of course, the child has been on their own for a decade or more, and the box of stuff is no longer a series of nostalgic reminders. It’s photos from that prom, a borrowed sweatshirt from an ex no one liked, cheap childhood novelty toys, and for me, books.
The Chonicles of Narnia are among my old childhood friends. There are a few other worlds I revisit fondly as an adult from time to time but it had been a while since I went back to visit Aslan with the Pevensies.
With much of the other young adult literature, the writer’s motivation is simple. Tell a story, entertain, the good guys are good, the bad guys are bad, and everyone lives happily ever after (until the next adventure). Well, the Chronicles of Narnia are a bit different. They are full on Christian propaganda, and I had no idea.
In my defense, I was a child, and I tend to read adventure stories quickly, my attention on what comes next, not allegorical intent. It wasn’t until this final read through of my childhood copy, with advanced warning that Aslan isn’t just a metaphor for Jesus, or Narnia’s version of him, he is actually Jesus as he appears in Narnia, that I realized just how obvious it all is.
C. S. Lewis’ obsession with pastoral living is unreasonable. In every adventure, when the good guys win, it means schools are destroyed, bridges are broken, anyone who represents progress, technology, or capitalist interests are overthrown in grand style, and the good, honest woods folk get to go back to partying, which they can only do because food magically appears. They drink wine regularly but at no point do we hear about even small scale production. The beaver has a sewing machine, but where did it come from? It is fantasy, which would be fine, if it wasn’t also propaganda.
I love stories of valor, honor, trust, love, adventure, bravery, redemption, and people being all around kind to each other. I cried many times as people and creatures rallied around each other to preserve life, liberty, and happiness. There are also some very good points made: how easy it is to use fake religion to control people, how greed and imperialism fail to respect the autonomy of others, the importance of honoring your word, and the joy of doing good, simple work with and for others.
When Aslan lays down his life to redeem Edmund, I cried. Not because I believe a historical man named Jesus was born of God and physically died for us, but because I value honorable sacrifice when it makes meaningful change for the good. I cried when the little field mice came and chewed through the ropes that bound him, because I remember the scenes, later, of the mice who, through that kindness, were rewarded with speech, and bigger hearts than anyone else. And I cried when Reepicheep, leader of those mice and fierce warrior, achieved his lifelong dream of reaching the end of the world, and beyond.
But it’s like when I listen to country music, or car commercials, or watch touching moments in a TV show. I can tell when someone is manipulating my emotions and I don’t always consent to it. As I feel tears welling up, I also notice where they come from and what the author’s purpose is in stimulating them. In this case, Lewis’ purpose is to glorify agrarian living. To make Jesus into a magical being that children can more easily be taught to love. To demonize anyone who speaks a different language, or has a different skin color. The neighboring empire, with designs of conquest, is populated by dark skinned people who wear turbans. The irony of a man writing an idealized pastoral England standing up against an evil imperialist nation is not lost on adult me.
When the Harry Potter novels came out, there was an outcry among American christians that this was satanist propaganda, intended to idealize devil worship and teach children how to use magic. Real magic, not just pretend magic and satanic beliefs. I thought it was absurd at the time and fortunately, my parents didn’t quite fall for it. In retrospect, I can see exactly why it was an issue. Generally, when people accuse you of something you didn’t do, out of the blue, it is because they, themselves do or did it. Sudden accusations of cheating, assertions of lying, someone deciding you are jealous or insecure when you yourself don’t feel that way… Voter fraud, human trafficking rings, nepotism… When people fling unfounded accusations, the first place to look for the problem is at the feet of those doing the flinging.
And so it is here. The Chronicles of Narnia are a series of fantastical stories, delightful, propaganda through and through. They were written specifically and deliberately to make contemporary christian beliefs simpler and easier to stomach for children, and to encourage them to forgo higher education and technology. The irony of a man with a liberal arts education and a higher degree writing stories that painted progressive schools as places that breed bullying is no longer lost on me.
As adventure stories, they are delightful, simple, and easy to read. But the next time I revisit beloved childhood friends in the form of talking animals, I’m going to Redwall Abbey.
I have said this many times, and will probably say I many more, but I fucking love nerds.
I love the nerd who buys semiprecious gemstones on eBay, tests them for authenticity, and keeps his collection sorted into “real, good fake, and bad fake”
I love the nerd who years ago threw away a black lotus (and the nerd who know why that’s a big deal)
I love the nerd who always wears themed and matching humorous socks and underwear
I love the nerd who stands his ground against me in the Picard versus Sisko debate.
I love the nerd who brought me home grown ribeyes and fresh raspberries from his hobby farm.
Architecture nerds who help hang my art, history nerds that entrance me by weaving the threads of of our past together, gardening nerds who bring me the truly weirdest flowers, emotional nerds who share their fascination with the mind, SciFi nerds that introduce me to new shows, gamers that help me with boss battles, food nerds who share their hidden finds with me, book nerds who fill my shelves… I love you all.
So when I opened up a belated Christmas gift to find this…
I was elated.
I grew up watching Stargate SG-1. My family’s time honored tradition of eating dinner in the den meant many an evening following Carter, O’neill, Teal’c, and Daniel across the galaxy, searching for Sha’re, fighting Apophis, meeting the Asgard, and just generally kicking ass. When O’neill and Teal’c get stuck in the time loop. When Carter’s dad becomes a Tok’ra… Every time I see this, not only the pleasure of watching the show, but the memories of comfortable childhood come back.
Every time I meet a new nerd, someone with passion and knowledge, for the sheer pleasure of knowing things and sharing them with others, I hear in my head a chant. “One of us! One of us! One of us!”
Thank you, dear friends. For the gifts you give me, and the gifts you give yourselves. I wouldn’t be here without you and I so deeply appreciate you.
Good afternoon, dear friends. Most of you already know what I’m about to tell you, but this is for all my beloveds who still struggle to present me with an appetizing plate off which to devour them.
I am terribly sensitive to scent. I love the smell of warm raspberries in the summer, of hot, fresh sweat, of clean cock and healthy tongues. I do not love the smell of rank underwear, that bit of breakfast stuck behind a molar, the goop that accumulates under foreskin, or a cute brown starfish lain untouched for days.
And so, after politely declining to do anything other than avoid the areas, I write this.
If you have found my kissing to lack a certain depth: -When brushing, make sure to also brush your tongue. Food, coffee, and bacteria settle between your taste buds, lying in wait for your friendly french kisser to discover. Several hearty swipes with a brush will both clear that out, and possibly surprise you. -Do a swish and gargle with mouth wash after your shower, and after we eat if we’re eating in. Don’t be shy. You’re alone in the bathroom; no one is going to look at you funny if you make chipmunk faces while swishing that minty freshness back and forth. -When you do brush, do it after you eat, not right before you arrive. Microabrasions may open you to bacteria and other unwanteds if you later use your mouth on something else.
If you have wished for a blowjob that never arrived: -If you’ve “taken a shower” and your penis, scrotum, perineum, or anus still carry unpleasant odors, I will decline to put my nose near them. Your soapy hands should touch your penis, scrotum, perineum, AND anus when you are in my shower, preparing yourself to be licked. This topic of cleaning cocks is so commonly avoided that the Australian Government had to publish a how to guide for citizens. -If you have a foreskin, this is even more important. Odors, urine, and… goop… can accumulate during the day, even in just an hour or so. This is particularly relevant if you haven’t done it in a while. No one likes to find out the hard way why it’s called cheese. -If you have skin folds from gaining or losing weight, congratulations! Your body is doing exactly what it’s supposed to. Remember that odors can accumulate under them. It is important to wash there, with soap, regularly. Particularly right before getting intimate.
Other notes: -Your clothes washer occasionally needs to be washed. A healthy dose of distilled white vinegar or bleach in an empty load should do the trick. -Your shower towel may also need to be washed on occasion, particularly if it isn’t hung to dry fully between showers. -If these two things are done, then your clothes, after washing, will be brilliantly fresh, and so, therefore, will you!
I wish I didn’t need to say these things. And usually I don’t. But if you’re receiving a link to this post as a follow up to our last visit, then I did, and so I am.
You’re in Seattle, maybe on a visit, maybe you live here. You’re looking for some vivacious female company and you’ve heard somewhere that something called an ‘escort’ might fit the bill. A pretty younger woman who can entertain you for an hour, or all night. You want someone who looks good to you, but you feel comfortable with, too.
But where on earth does one find a Seattle Escort?
Trusty old google to the rescue.
Fortunately for you, the pertinent question isn’t “How to find a Seattle Escort” but “How to decide which one to see!” The escort scene in Seattle, as in many major cities, is bustling. There is new money and old, a variety of folks seeing a variety of things, and a thriving sex positive culture in which to do them. Seattle, being such a sexually progressive city, has escorts listed on almost every national and international advertising platform. Each platform can have up to 250 escorts advertising at once. So how do you choose!?!
Well let’s get started.
First: don’t think you’re going to find someone tonight. While many Seattle Escorts do offer same-day service, most do not, and new clients should expect there to be some level of screening, even if it’s not explicitly stated, which will take time. In fact, an escort in Seattle who does not ask for some form of screening is more likely to be a bait and switch, an upseller, or vice squad than she is to be that super sexy, low priced vixen her ad claims she is.
More on screening later. Right now, you’re the one screening out escorts who don’t fit your preferences, or who are difficult to get a feel for.
You’ll start with an advertising platform. The first two pages of googling “Seattle Escort” will almost always return ad spaces that offer listing after listing. I personally prefer slixa.com, tryst.link, eros.com (with many caveats), and a smattering of other places. For a more complete list, visit my ad spaces blog post HERE.
You’ve made it to an escort advertising website. You’re scrolling through pictures. You might be overwhelmed at this point. I was when I tried to find someone for a client to see in Portland, and I know what I’m doing! With me being both an escort myself and mostly straight, I only found a few that reeeeally made me want to see them and sure enough, they proved fabulous. This is how you, too, can narrow it down to only the best.
First there are the pictures. I prefer some artistic license and a little personality in my photos. If you’ve seen my images, they are mostly soft and cuddly, a little playful, sometimes demure. I like clients who like that, clients who want gentleness and sensuality with a hefty dose of fun. It’s very me and it attracts people who will like me. I understand there are some clients who prefer to see at least some selfies. I am told that this adds to the escort’s legitimacy. Personally, I find flattering selfies impossible to take. I lean on my social media, my blog, and what reviews can be found to add weight to my legitimacy. But a picture is worth a thousand words and you should always, always find a variety of images of any escort you want to see in Seattle.
A word on faces. Faces are the most subjective canvas. A face can sway you one way or the other when considering which Seattle Escort you choose. Unfortunately, the legal and social climate of today does not favor escorts or our clients. For that reason, many of us choose to hide our faces in our public images. This is to avoid detection by law enforcement or our personal and professional circles, to avoid being recognized by fans who are not screened clients, and most importantly to you, to avoid you being seen in public with a known escort. Despite Seattle’s sex positivity, there are still few places where escorts and our clients are truly and openly welcome. When choosing a Seattle Escort, balance your attraction to her face (which I have fallen prey to myself) with your need for discretion.
After pictures are prices. There are many opinions within the escorting world about rates but no one disagrees that they are rarely low. Rates for Seattle escorts easily start at 500$ per hour and can go as high as two thousand dollars for a single appointment. While my rate structure implies 500$ per hour, my ninety minute minimum appointment means a new client is looking at shelling out 750$ at least. I and my beloved clients feel it is worth it, all things considered, but for you it may rule me and many others out. Most Seattle Escorts have rates listed in their ads. If they do not, they should have a section on their website specifically for rates. You should never have to ask an Escort for their rates.
A note on rates: Before you start looking for your Seattle Escort, have an idea of what you can realistically spend once a month. You may want to visit more or less often, but it’s a good baseline. Some clients spend lavishly and others save up for their birthday every year. Have a budget in mind before you start letting Junior make your decisions.
Now that pictures and prices have narrowed down your options, you get to dive in. Most serious Seattle Escorts have a website. They are usually divided into sections such as about me, rates, contact, etiquette, and galleries. You’ve seen pictures (though websites often have more photos than ads) and rates, now you get to read what they write. You’re moving into the in-between space of you choosing your escort, and her choosing you. In the etiquette (sometimes called expectations) page, she will outline your next steps. Usually that involves some kind of screening, and an appointment request.
A tip on checking out your Escort: A few years ago, a new law was passed that made it harder for Escorts to advertise transparently. We lost access to reviews, the main consumer protection method, and had to verify ourselves elsewhere. Seattle escorts who had not had social media before this legislation began using spaces like twitter, snapchat, instagram, and for me, reddit, to offer insights into our personalities. We post candid images, quotes and quips, sometimes special deals, and other social media whatnot for our clients to review as a way of showing our “realness” for lack of a better phrase. If your escort has social media, she will usually link to them from her website. Go take a look!
You’ve scanned the advertising platforms, you’ve picked out the ones that attract you the most, you’ve ruled out the ones that are too expensive, and you’ve browsed website and social media for those who remain. You’re ready to reach out and schedule an appointment to meet your first Seattle Escort.
Now you’re ready for screening. Because of the current legal and social climate, the vast majority of Escorts will screen their clients. We are screening out vice cops, creeps, violent people, and sometimes just folks we really don’t think we’ll like. Many escorts accept referrals or references from other escorts you’ve seen before. If you’ve seen escorts in cities outside of Seattle, they may consent to vouch for you with a new escort. For those who don’t accept references, or if you don’t have references yet, you will almost certainly be asked to verify your identity. This may mean sending a selfie of you holding your drivers license, it might mean a link to your work profile on LinkedIn or your business’ official website, maybe for those working in education or government, an email with a innocent code phrase to your work address may suffice. However your escort prefers to verify you is how you’ll be verified.
So many things about screening. First: it’s important. Between law enforcement, opportunists, targeted violence, and simply compatibility, screening is how you offer your escort the same assurances she’s offered you. It’s also why it’s so important for you to take a few days to choose your escort before reaching out. You want to see someone you’re sure will be who she says she is. She wants the same.
Second: everyone screens differently. Old school escorts may ask for a phone call. Xennials might want you to snap chat them. Some escorts ask for deposits, others operate on a two-call system (you get directions to a place near them where they can see you. Once they have eyes on you, they give directions to their door). Some escorts use their intuition and others have a strict protocol. I strongly recommend avoiding providers who don’t ask you for anything at all. They will rarely be legitimate, reliable, or experienced.
Finally: Be patient, be open, but don’t be gullible. There are too many good, reliable escorts here in Seattle for you to waste your time or money on someone who won’t show up on time, won’t be good company, or won’t keep your information safe. We encourage each other to follow our gut, no questions asked. You should, too. If someone seems too good to be true, she isn’t.
Yay!! You’ve found your Seattle Escort, you’ve screened her and she’s screened you, you’ve set a date and you’re on your way! Congratulations! Now take a deep breath, make sure you scrubbed between those booty cheeks and put on deodorant, and put a couple extra twenties in your wallet in case she is better in person than you expected. You might be nervous. That’s ok. Relax and have fun, try to let go of any lists or agendas, and…
