answer out of her, but itâs true that Ada had never complained about the money. It seems like a strange way to do business, but it canât be that bad or people wouldnât go along with it, right?
After that, all that was left was for me to check in with Anne. She had me pose against a bare wall for a quick photo, then handed me a pink phone just like Adaâs.
âI already have a phone,â I told her.
Anne explained that I needed a committed phone. One that Miss Irma controls. She doesnât like when the girls get their service cut off or their numbers changed. She needs to know that she and the clients can get in touch with us. Anne said it would take a day or two to charge and activate, but once it wasall set, I should just wait for a text letting me know about my first appointment.
This is all so weird but exciting. Itâs like a strange dream, or something thatâs happening to someone else. Maybe once I do my first date, it will start to feel real.
Sat, Nov 29
Still no word from Irma. Iâm starting to get nervous.
Iâm not even sure what Iâm nervous about. Part of me is afraid sheâs changed her mind and wonât ever text me, and another part is terrified that she will. Sometimes I lie awake in bed thinking, What am I getting myself into? Am I prepared for this at all? I mean, Iâve had sex exactly once. Am I qualified to be a professional? Or is that a silly thing to ask?
What if itâs weird and awful? What if I panic at the last minute and canât go through with it?
Yesterday I made Ada talk to me a bit about her experiences, to help calm my nerves. I made her describe an average date for me and what the guys are like and what they ask for. That helped a bit. Plus, she reminded me that I can always say no at any time. I can always turn around and leave if Iâm not comfortable.
It helps to know that Ada has been through all this before. I want to be like her. I can be like her. I want to know somethingof the real world and not learn everything from books. I look at Ada, and I want all the experiences that made her what she is, even the bad ones. I can do it.
Mon, Dec 1
I got the text! I waited for ages. It felt like it was never going to happen. But I guess I have a client? This is all so weird. My handwriting is awful because Iâm shaking a little, and I donât even know if itâs fear or excitement. I mean Iâm scared, but for the first time I feel like Iâm living my own life and not just following someone elseâs path. Maybe this is a huge mistake, but itâs my mistake and no one elseâs.
Miss Irmaâs car is coming for me at the same spot where Iâve seen Ada get picked up. Thatâs basically all I know right now. I hope my dress is okay! (Itâs one of Adaâs.)
Mon, Dec 1, later
Iâm back from my date. I donât know what to say about it.
It was fine. It was . . . fine.
It wasnât fine.
I donât know. I feel like an idiot. Ada warned me. She told me most of my dates wouldnât be like Damon, and I heard her and I understood. I thought I understood. I knew they wouldnât all be as handsome as Damon or as kind. Or as young. But I thought . . .
I feel dumb even saying this, but I thought . . . at least they would appreciate me. Even if they were old and unattractive, they would at least make me feel sexy and wanted. But this guy . . . Itâs not that anything terrible happened. I didnât get hurt. He wasnât cruel. But I donât even know his name! I mean, I understand why people might not want to give their names, but not even a fake name. He was just so distant.
He had a drink in his hand when he came to the door, and I smiled and started to introduce myself when I realized I still hadnât thought of a fake name. So I was standing there with my mouth open like an idiot, trying to think of what to say, but I
After that, all that was left was for me to check in with Anne. She had me pose against a bare wall for a quick photo, then handed me a pink phone just like Adaâs.
âI already have a phone,â I told her.
Anne explained that I needed a committed phone. One that Miss Irma controls. She doesnât like when the girls get their service cut off or their numbers changed. She needs to know that she and the clients can get in touch with us. Anne said it would take a day or two to charge and activate, but once it wasall set, I should just wait for a text letting me know about my first appointment.
This is all so weird but exciting. Itâs like a strange dream, or something thatâs happening to someone else. Maybe once I do my first date, it will start to feel real.
Sat, Nov 29
Still no word from Irma. Iâm starting to get nervous.
Iâm not even sure what Iâm nervous about. Part of me is afraid sheâs changed her mind and wonât ever text me, and another part is terrified that she will. Sometimes I lie awake in bed thinking, What am I getting myself into? Am I prepared for this at all? I mean, Iâve had sex exactly once. Am I qualified to be a professional? Or is that a silly thing to ask?
What if itâs weird and awful? What if I panic at the last minute and canât go through with it?
Yesterday I made Ada talk to me a bit about her experiences, to help calm my nerves. I made her describe an average date for me and what the guys are like and what they ask for. That helped a bit. Plus, she reminded me that I can always say no at any time. I can always turn around and leave if Iâm not comfortable.
It helps to know that Ada has been through all this before. I want to be like her. I can be like her. I want to know somethingof the real world and not learn everything from books. I look at Ada, and I want all the experiences that made her what she is, even the bad ones. I can do it.
Mon, Dec 1
I got the text! I waited for ages. It felt like it was never going to happen. But I guess I have a client? This is all so weird. My handwriting is awful because Iâm shaking a little, and I donât even know if itâs fear or excitement. I mean Iâm scared, but for the first time I feel like Iâm living my own life and not just following someone elseâs path. Maybe this is a huge mistake, but itâs my mistake and no one elseâs.
Miss Irmaâs car is coming for me at the same spot where Iâve seen Ada get picked up. Thatâs basically all I know right now. I hope my dress is okay! (Itâs one of Adaâs.)
Mon, Dec 1, later
Iâm back from my date. I donât know what to say about it.
It was fine. It was . . . fine.
It wasnât fine.
I donât know. I feel like an idiot. Ada warned me. She told me most of my dates wouldnât be like Damon, and I heard her and I understood. I thought I understood. I knew they wouldnât all be as handsome as Damon or as kind. Or as young. But I thought . . .
I feel dumb even saying this, but I thought . . . at least they would appreciate me. Even if they were old and unattractive, they would at least make me feel sexy and wanted. But this guy . . . Itâs not that anything terrible happened. I didnât get hurt. He wasnât cruel. But I donât even know his name! I mean, I understand why people might not want to give their names, but not even a fake name. He was just so distant.
He had a drink in his hand when he came to the door, and I smiled and started to introduce myself when I realized I still hadnât thought of a fake name. So I was standing there with my mouth open like an idiot, trying to think of what to say, but I
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