My name is David Nelson, and I’m a male escort. A gigolo, a prostitute, whatever you want to call it, it all means the same thing: my job is getting paid to have sex for money…well mostly. It’s not all I do, sometimes I’m hired by lonely people wanting someone to go out to dinner with them, or act as arm candy at some fancy event. In fact, that’s how this all started back when I was a poor university student.

During my second year at Glasgow University, I shared a flat with my friend Miles. Miles was everyone’s friend; he was chatty, interesting and an all-round nice guy. As far as I knew, he didn’t have a job, but he never seemed to be struggling for money in the way I always seemed to be. Sure, I was fortunate that my Papa helped pay for my rent, but with my loans paying for my tuition, what little I had left didn’t really go very far each week. Miles would often spend his evenings out, but he never brought anyone back to the flat; I even told him it was fine with me if he did. It made sense if he was getting laid all the time, he was a good looking guy, even I could see that.

One day Miles came home with a very fancy new watch on his wrist, it literally glistened when the light caught it, so I had to ask, “How can you possibly afford a watch like that? Did you sell a kidney?”

“Ha, something like that,” Miles chuckled.

“Something like that?” I repeat, confused by his response. 

Miles paused, I guess he was considering how much to tell me, and what he told me next truly did shock me.

“It wasn’t my kidney I sold, but it was a part of my body. In fact this little beauty,” referring to his watch, “was paid for by this sexy ass,” at which he literally spanked himself for emphasis. I’m sure I must have looked like a cartoon character at that moment, completely lost for words and it felt as though my jaw dropped to the floor.

After I’d recovered enough to take in what he was telling me, Miles told me how he worked for an online agency that helped connect potential clients with the escorts they represented for dates, company and of course sex.

The pieces all started to fit into place in my head then. Why he never brought any of his ‘dates’ back to the flat. Why he never seemed to be struggling for money. Why he kept some pretty weird hours. He asked me if I wanted him to refer me to be added to his agency’s list of ‘staff’ but although I didn’t judge him for it at all, I didn’t think it was for me.

I didn’t think any more about it for another couple of weeks until a particularly disastrous attempt at dating made me question what was actually stopping me from doing it. I wasn’t a prude when it came to sex, besides Miles had even told me not all of his clients wanted or even expected sex, so I could just do the dinner date-for-hire part if I was really that concerned about it. I could at least look into the agency more before I decided, rather than dismissing it completely as I had when Miles first told me about it.

So I did, Miles referred me to his agency, which apparently got him an extra bonus, and sped up the vetting process they did for all their potential new ‘Artists’ as they called them. I provided them with a few basic details including my ID and a recent picture and within a couple of days, I received a form in my inbox asking me to provide some information for my ‘Artist profile’. It was a lot like a dating profile with sections like ‘About me’, ‘Hobbies’ and ‘Favourites’. It only started to differ when it got to the section titled ‘Do’s and Don’ts’.

I guess the best way to describe this section of the profile is the agency’s way of “managing expectations” and matching the most appropriate artist to a client. It was a list of services that I had to indicate if I was willing to provide them or not, with another option to leave it ‘open to discussion’. I worked my way down the list, which started pretty tamely. 

• Dinner: Yes
• Theatre: Yes
• Cinema: Yes
• Boyfriend Experience: Open
• Events: Yes
• Overnight: No
• Sex: No

With a number of follow-up options that were greyed out once I selected No to Sex. Artists could update their profile at any time, so I figured I’d start without the sex and see if I even liked being an escort first. 

The final section was on preferences:

• Girls: Yes
• Guys: No
• Age: Open
• OF/JFF: No

After completing the form, I hit submit before I thought too much about it. From there I just had to wait for my first client.