My ATF became something more to me than usual, as sometimes happens. We swapped numbers before she went back to NYC, and in a weak moment I texted her, not for an appointment, but to wish her a happy birthday.

Like many older mongers, loneliness, dead bedrooms and your married roommate had brought me astray. Mongering is a natural outlet. Men are no better than dogs at the end of the day, and if we can find someone to scratch our backs we're content.

To keep it short, I then wrote her a poem. It was beautiful and straight from the heart. And it blew her mind, but not in a positive way. I was met with stone cold silence.

The message was clear; you're a monger, I'm a sex worker, and there's nothing there except your house fee and overly generous tip.

Of course we all know the deal, and I let a real unicorn go to my head, so it's on me. But I will say this....if you ever think your ATF, your aamp or escort, is anything other than a chimera of love, you are mistaken. They are veterans, professionals, disconnected from emotion and usually quite motivated. By money......and money only......and that's what makes the world go around.

PS....the story has a happy ending!