I never thought I'd be here, writing about hiring companionship after Margaret passed. Retirement was supposed to be our time together, travelling, reading, just being. Now it's just me and too many quiet rooms.
My last booking was with Elena, a lovely Polish girl who doesn't just see me as a transaction. We talked more than anything. Had tea, discussed books. She listened to stories about Margaret without that pitying look younger people get when an old widower starts remembering.
Physical intimacy matters, of course. But at my age, it's less about performance and more about feeling human. Touched. Seen. Not just another invisible older man taking up space. Elena understands this. She's patient, kind. Makes me feel like I'm still worth something.
Some might judge. I know that. But they haven't felt this particular loneliness. The kind that settles into your bones after decades of partnership, then suddenly disappears. These bookings aren't about sex. They're about connection. Warmth. Remembering I'm alive.
Margaret would understand. She was always practical about human needs.