Most people assume seeing an escort is just about physical release. They're wrong. Dead wrong. After five years of this, I've realized it's about something far more complicated.
Take last week's encounter with Maria. She's Polish, mid 30s, works out of a discreet apartment in Rathmines. We didn't just have sex. We talked. About her studies, my work stress, the weird loneliness of corporate life. She listened in a way my wife hasn't in years.
I'm not trying to romanticize this. I know it's a transactional relationship. But human connection isn't simple. Sometimes paying for intimacy means paying for understanding. For an hour, someone sees me. Not my job title. Not my marriage. Just me.
My wife and I are fine. We're partners. But there's a distance. Kids, mortgage, routine. Maria doesn't want anything from me except the agreed hours. No expectations. No judgement.
The guilt is always there. But so is the relief of being truly heard. Complicated, right?