The Male Escort Agency UK - Click To Visit Our USA Site -

What mattered in life from the eyes of London male escorts

London male escortsThe busy schedules of our lives have made us forget what matters and what doesn’t. I recall with some strangeness how the practice has become. Then, my dad took us parks, and we played and made friends with kids we have never seen before. My dad only came to me when it was time to go.

Now we look at one another with suspicion. Recently I was in the midst of London male escorts, and I learned something invaluable; the importance of family. I saw the way they watched each other’s back. They met now and then to discuss their difficulties as well as help the new members in their midst.

Becoming friends with some of the London male escorts happened organically for me. It was not like one of those activities you sleep over before concluding. It happened that I was in the same bar they normally met. I can’t recall what took me there that evening, but I just needed a quiet place to think through some of the misfortunes I had to endure lately including losing my job.

London is a busy city, and I didn’t have many friends when they convened, I mean the London male escorts, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation. When their meeting ended, many of them dispersed, and I drew closer to the two left behind. I was keen on knowing what organization they were and if it was possible to join them.

Listening to them, I knew that was worth I lacked and yearned for; a confidant whom I could share my joys and pains with, a shoulder to lean on. They welcomed me warmly and answered all my questions to the smallest details. I visited the bar more frequently hoping each time that I will meet them – and I was lucky many of the time.

Becoming a member was nothing special. It was not like a secret cult where you have to go through some form of initiation in an unknown location. All that was required was for me to get the requisite knowledge and build my interpersonal skills. When I was ready, they told me the pros and cons of the different escort agencies and allowed me to make my choice on which of them I should join.

After several weeks of rigorous training, I was officially a male escort. Unlike many of the London male escorts (some came from different countries) who entered the industry to make money, I was just looking for a family.

Nailing the first client is always the hardest part of male escorting. Most of the clients will be looking for people with experience in the industry. After weeks of waiting patiently, the first client came. I was both excited and nervous.

Since I was a guy and could defend myself if need be, I was a little more relaxed, but I wondered what it was like for female escorts; staying in a room with the door locked with a male whose intentions you cannot read.  We started talking, and I found her lively. She was between 20 and 21. You could feel the radiance of her youthful exuberance from a distance.

She made dinner. She knew how to cook. We munched on and talked till late in the night. By the time we got into bed, it felt like we were dating already. It felt comfortable sharing my bitter past with her; how my father died, how my mother valued the company of other men to me, how I ran away from home to start a life of my own and how I recently lost my job.

She listened with keen interest and sympathized with me for all I have gone through, and then told me her own. It is easy to assume that people have no problem because they cautiously decided to mask it with a thick layer of a smile. I would never have agreed that this vibrant, happy young lady lying beside me had any problems if it wasn’t coming from her lips.

She told me how her parents abandoned her when she was little, and she was moved from one foster home to another. When she was 15, her parents came looking for her. She still forgave them and moved in with them.

I guess she didn’t know that I enjoyed her company more than she must have enjoyed mine. In the real sense, I should be the one paying for her company, not the other way around.  I thanked her for her warm hospitality and planted a kiss on her forehead before leaving.

When I got home, I took my phone and dialled my mother’s number for the first time in close to ten years.

“I am sorry,” I said before she could say a word.

I now know that nothing can substitute family.

Share your thoughts