The Meet-and-Greet Wasteland
Illustration by Tyler Wintermute
I officially said good-bye to attending companion meet and greets back in 2015 but recently received word that one would be hosted in my new base city of Phoenix as soon as life finds a new normal amidst covid19. It gave me a good laugh. I have never received a booking from any guy that frequents them. Furthermore, the type of guys in attendance are often serial hobbyist—the type of woman-hating patron I want to steer as far away from as possible. I’m sure there is a provider “type” that does well at these sorts of events, but I decided in 2015 after attending my 3rd event in the slobbyist heyday of Atlanta that I was not that woman.
Imagine a private room in an upscale bar or restaurant filled men between the ages of 35-70 all dressed in office business casual. Some are nervous and twitchy while others strut with the narcissistic self-assuredness of human peacocks as they ogle the women in attendance from their corner of the room deciding which to cull from the herd as if the women were nothing more than unwitting lambs. The women are scantily clad and most of them in attendance are from local agencies that will later auction them off by the respective agency owners in attendance to the lucky hobbyist who wins the raffle for the evening. Yes…pussy is literally on the auction block for the evening.
"Wow, you actually look better in person than you do in your pictures. [Sneering and looking me up and down] I might finally decide to come and see you."
As one guy put it at the last event I attended, “A meet and greet is a place where you can go and kick a few tires before deciding to buy the car.” I was utterly disgusted by this statement but not at all surprised. The eyes that ogle and roam the room filled with nearly bare breasts and legs...the ruddy tongues that run themselves across chapped lips as they lust after what is seen before them all tell the same story of the serial hobbyist: A guy who truly has no regard for sex workers and sees them purely as commodities. She’s selling and he is trying to get the lowest price for the hottest "unit" in the room. This "unit" will usually be the hottest woman that works for one of local agencies that "incentivized" their ladies' attendance usually with free drinks, food, or lowered drops from bookings that are a direct outcome of the event. Before these events, hobbyists often scheme behind the scenes on the hobby boards requesting that her name be placed in the pussy auction bowl. Sometimes the companion is aware of this, but as one former agency companion informed me, “I was told to show up by the owner as they needed more ladies present but I did not know about the auction until my name was called.” I was aghast at how an agency will auction someone off for a date unknowingly as though she is their property.
I've never worked for an agency and have always been independent, however; top indys are often "invited" to add to the "variety" present and for recruitment purposes. The three times I attended meet-and-greet events, the word always got back to me about something some slobbyist said: “I don’t like her hair (if I wear my natural curls), Alex (former stage name) is too intimidating/outspoken or I have always wanted to see her and she’s sexy but her rate is too high.” The irony is that I have always known plenty of ladies who request a great deal more for their time than I do and these jackwagons choose to go and see them in droves as their prolific reviews attest. It was never about my rates. It was the South after all.
I am not the vanilla Hagen Daz they seek: A common product that people pay a premium for simply because it is the right kind of bland and has a good reputation among its other consumers.
But what these guys always failed to realize is that they did not and never will fit my ICP, which is why I had only been to three events in all the years I had been a companion and will never go to one again. These guys are the same reviewers who write "revenge reviews", dehumanize sex workers for the slightest of things all in the name of accuracy (sarcasm) or pen highly imaginative circle jerk D-level erotica that barely contains one shred of truth. Do I have reviews? Yes--tons of them. I once actively solicited them until I had a full understanding of their inherent violence and exploitative nature of the inner workings of review culture. Presently, I kindly request that anyone who sees me not write them as what happens between the two of us should remain private. The reality of companionship in 2020 is that there are enough reviews of me going back years along with my solid web presence and Twitter feed for a new suitor to get the idea that (1) I am a real companion, and (2) a safe companion to date with lots of positive feedback.
Farewell forever meet-and-greets its #2020 and #TimesUp slobbyist review culture.
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