8/19/25 Gary
I’ll admit, I hesitated to write about Gary. A little voice in my head said, “If you tell people you have a boyfriend, maybe some won’t want to see you anymore.” But really—that’s unreasonable, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you want me to have a boyfriend? Wouldn’t you want me to be happy?
The truth is, I never expected Gary. Isn’t that how it usually goes, though? The best things in life come when you’re not looking for them. Gary wasn’t searching either. He first found me as a client—our relationship began in the escort world. Not exactly a storybook beginning, but life doesn’t always follow the script. What matters is that we connected, and that connection grew into something real and sweet—something that still surprises me.
From the start, he stood out. Gary is older, steady, and grounded in a way that calms me without him even trying. He’s patient, he listens—really listens—and he makes me feel seen. People say you “just know” when someone gets you, and with Gary, I do.
It wasn’t fast, and it wasn’t fireworks right out of the gate. It was slow, steady, and genuine. And maybe that’s why I trust it. Gary shows up for me—not with grand gestures, but with presence, kindness, and the steady reassurance that I matter. And he knows that what I do is my job and is very accepting.
The truth is, it’s been 15 years since my divorce—15 years of being on my own. I had reached a place where I didn’t expect to feel this kind of happiness again. But then Gary came along, when I wasn’t looking, and reminded me that it’s never too late for a second or third chance.
I don’t think Gary even realizes how much I admire him. He’s a manager by profession, a baseball and softball umpire by passion, and just a genuinely good man by nature. Somehow, against all odds, our lives collided at exactly the right moment.
And after all these years, here I am—writing about Gary, smiling as I type, realizing that sometimes the best stories are the ones you never saw coming.
P.S. Gary lives 40 minutes from me and never comes over unannounced, in case you were wondering! And I have to say that I love having my own place!
8/17/25 The Truth According to Patty
Age
Age is a funny thing. When we’re young, we want to be older. When we’re older, we want to be younger. Is there ever a time when we’re truly happy with our age?
This year, when I moved to St. Louis, I decided to come clean and tell the truth: I’m 64. I started this when I was 54, and I lied about my age until just a few months ago. The ridiculous part? I would always tell people my real age once they met me. How bad is that? “Hi, nice to meet you… by the way, I already lied to you!”
What really gets me is when men lie about their age—especially after 60. Some won’t even give me a number; they’ll just say they’re “in their 60s” or “in their 70s.” Translation: they’re usually 69 or 79. And trust me, there’s a big difference between 61 and 69… just like there’s a big difference between 41 and 49. That’s one of the reasons I decided to stop lying—because I hate being lied to.
If you don’t want to see me because I get AARP magazines, that’s fine. I’m not going to change who I am just to suit someone else’s fantasy. As Popeye would say, I am what I am. You only get one truth in this world, and you’re not here for long. So be truthful—it’s better for your soul. And besides, lying is just bad karma.
Which brings me to my other truth…
Chatty Patty
Someone recently told me about reviews of me on a site I’d never heard of: USAsexguide.nl. Apparently, every city has its own section. Last week, under “St. Louis Escort Reports,” they talked about me. Some of it was nice, some… not so nice. But one thing stood out: they called me “Chatty Patty.”
Now, I get it—I like to talk. I find it helps people relax, and it helps me relax too. Honestly, I think I do it because I’m nervous. I’ve noticed that I always talk more during the first session than any other. You should know: I’m a ball of nerves before you arrive. Once I see you, it gets better, but I’m still keyed up.
So yes, I might chat a little too much that first time. But personally, I think that’s better than lying there in silence like a statue. At least you know I’m alive and enjoying myself. And besides, if I can’t tell you my real age anymore, I’ve got to fill the air with something.
And for the record… I Do Not Live in Maryland Heights!
While we’re clearing things up, let’s address another little gem floating around the review boards: apparently, some people think I live in Maryland Heights. Let me assure you—I do not.
Maryland Heights has a prostitution task force. While they’re mainly focused on traffickers and pimps, I don’t want to be anywhere near that. I chose my home because it’s in an unincorporated area, meaning the only police presence is the St. Louis County police—and they have the entire county to look after.
I can honestly say, I’ve never been safer in my ten years of doing this. The subdivision is lovely, my home is modern and spotless, and my neighbors think I’m a work-from-home bookkeeper. Honestly, I think people in a neighborhood this nice would have a hard time believing a 64-year-old woman was a prostitute. I’m tucked away at the end of two streets with hardly anyone around.
You can never feel too safe in this business, but here? I feel safer than I ever have. And that’s the truth.
8/4/25 Sex Talk
I have to tell you—when I’m having sex with someone and they don’t say a word, I am totally turned off. I mean, how am I supposed to know if I’m doing it right? Or if they’re even enjoying themselves? I don’t—and that unnerves me. Even a little heavy breathing is better than complete and total silence. And, not surprisingly, these tend to be the same men who don’t crack a smile.
But come on—life’s too short not to smile during sex. If you’re not smiling during sex, when are you going to smile? Okay, I’ll admit I don’t know these men well enough to say they never smile, but I definitely have my suspicions.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how short life is. Maybe that’s why I’ve become so focused on doing what I actually want to do. I don’t have the time—or patience—for things that feel like a chore. Life is too precious for that.
And as for talking during sex? I probably do too much of it. I’ve even wondered if anyone actually wants me to talk during our sessions. But if I didn’t talk, I wouldn’t be enjoying myself. I like to relate to people—and I love when people relate to me. I used to say, back when I was a therapist, “Just throw me the ball!” It was my way of saying, “Open up—I’m not going to pull teeth.”
That’s kind of how I feel about silent men in bed. Come on, throw me the ball. Say something. Smile. Let me know you’re in there.
8/4/25 Time Spent
Does it make sense to spend a half hour with me—or a full hour? A lot of men ask themselves this question. Some even ask me. So here’s my take on it:
A half hour can feel a little rushed—especially if you’re not quite as quick as you were at 30! I won’t even consider 15-minute “quick visits.” I don’t want a revolving door, and I certainly don’t want my neighbors seeing someone come in and leave 15 minutes later.
Now don’t get me wrong—we can absolutely get things done in a half hour. But I think it’s especially important to book a full hour the first time we meet, particularly if you think you might want to see me again. Once we know each other, a half hour might be just right. Or, you might find that you enjoy cuddling and chatting a bit more—so an hour feels better.
Of course, money is a factor. I completely get that. But just so you know, I do offer more during an hour. Maybe it’s a longer massage. Maybe it’s a back tickle that goes on and on. It really depends on what you want from our time together.
If you’re someone who likes to get straight to the point, then a half hour will probably suit you just fine. But if you like to take your time, explore a little, and let things unfold slowly, then you’re definitely more of a full-hour guy.
Whatever you decide, I hope it’s the right fit—for you, and for us.
8/4/25 What I Wish Clients Knew (But Don’t Always Say)
There are things I wish more clients knew. Not because I’m secretly stewing about them (I’m not), but because sometimes I think guys would get so much more out of the experience if they understood a few simple things. So in the spirit of honesty—and a little gentle education—here’s what I wish I could say to every client:
1. I actually like what I do.
This isn’t a sob story. You don’t need to feel guilty or tiptoe around me. I’m here because I want to be, and I’m good at what I do. I’m not just “tolerating” you. If I didn’t enjoy connecting with people, I wouldn’t have lasted in this profession.
2. I can tell when you’re nervous—and it’s okay.
Trust me, nervous energy walks through the door before you do. But you’re not alone. Most guys are at least a little anxious, especially the first time. The best thing you can do is just… be real. You don’t need a script. You don’t need to act like someone you’re not. I promise you—relaxed is sexy.
3. You don’t have to perform.
There’s no scoreboard here. No “best of” list. Just two people having a shared experience. Whether you’re a marathon man or more of a sprinter, I’m here to meet you where you are. There’s no “right” way to do this.
4. Being kind and respectful makes a huge difference.
It’s amazing how much better everything goes when a client is just…nice. I’m not talking about over-the-top flattery (though hey, I won’t stop you). I just mean eye contact, a smile, a “thank you.” You’d be surprised how many people forget that I’m a human being too.
5. You can talk to me.
Seriously. If something’s on your mind—if you’re nervous, or shy, or unsure—I’d rather you tell me than try to tough it out in silence. I’m a good listener, and chances are, I’ve heard it before. Plus, talking makes the whole thing feel more real and less like a transaction.
6. When you enjoy yourself, I enjoy myself.
This might be the most important one. When you’re present, engaged, smiling, breathing, feeling—it’s infectious. It makes me feel appreciated, connected, and honestly, it makes the whole experience better for both of us.
So that’s it. Just a few things I wish more guys knew. I know not everyone reads my blogs (I mean, you should, but still), so if you made it this far—thank you. And if any of this rings true, even better.
Because at the end of the day, I’m not just here to show up—I’m here to connect. And when we both show up, it’s magic.
8/1/25 New Offerings
I am now offering dinner dates with plenty of fun afterwards. I’m figuring this will last about three hours, give or take, and my donation for this is $700. If you would like to book an appointment with me, please contact me at my phone number or my email.
I am also offering Sugar Baby services. If you’re interested, please contact me so we can talk about details. Everything is negotiable.
7/21/25 Coming Back to Myself
Last week, something felt really off. I was flat. Numb. Disconnected from everything I usually care about. I couldn’t make decisions. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I felt like I was unraveling, piece by piece, and I couldn’t figure out why.
And then I realized what happened.
I forgot to put my Abilify—my antidepressant—into my daily pill organizer. I had gone about a week and a half without it. Just one small slip-up, and suddenly the world lost its color. I thought it was about people. I thought it was about my health. I thought it was maybe just “me.” But it wasn’t. It was depression. Quiet, creeping, and so damn convincing.
The truth is, depression lies. It whispers that everything is broken, that you’re alone, that nothing feels right. And it’s very good at pretending to be the truth.
But now that the fog is lifting, I can see things more clearly. I feel like myself again—funny, sharp, strong, interested. My energy is returning. I can feel joy again.
And just in time. Yesterday, I had a fantastic party with a bunch of my high school friends. We laughed and reminisced and hugged and told stories that have grown funnier with time. It reminded me of who I am, how far I’ve come, and what it feels like to be grounded in connection.
So yes—lesson learned: always double-check the damn pill organizer. And never, ever forget that depression is a master of disguise.
If you’re ever in that fog, please hang on. Don’t believe everything your brain says when it’s sick. The light does come back. And so do you.
7/1/25 The Miracle of My Mother’s Pinky Ring
About six weeks ago, I lost a beloved pinky ring that had belonged to my mother. It was a diamond eternity band with square-cut stones — probably worth over $1,000. But the real value wasn’t monetary. It was sentimental. I wore it constantly, even to bed.
One morning, I took a shower and noticed about an hour later that the ring was missing. I figured it must have slipped off in the shower — I use a lot of conditioner and soap, and everything gets slippery. It had fallen off before, so I assumed this time it had gone down the drain. I asked a few people about checking the trap underneath the shower, but my house in Kansas City had a crawlspace, and it would’ve required someone to go under it. One of my clients, a man who could practically build a house from scratch, told me there was no way the ring would still be in the trap — the water pressure would’ve washed it away. I believed him. And honestly, I grieved the loss.
Then, I moved to St. Louis. I unpacked, settled in, and during my second week here, I had a cleaning lady come over. While she was shaking out my bathroom rugs, she found a tiny diamond ring. She handed it to me, and I was speechless. Somehow, my mother’s ring had traveled with me from Kansas City to St. Louis — hidden in a bathmat. I never felt it. Never saw it. I still don’t know if it was stuck in the thick woven top or clinging to the rubber bottom. Maybe it had been there all along, just waiting to be found.
And here’s the strangest part: even after six weeks without it, I still had a clear indentation on my pinky finger. If you looked at both my pinkies, one had a mark — as if the ring had never left. Like it was meant to come back to me.
The truth is, I probably wasn’t supposed to have this ring. It was one of the leftover pieces of jewelry that my mom must’ve thought was costume. My sisters and I didn’t sort through everything until the day we cleaned out her things. If they had known this ring was real, I don’t think they would’ve let me keep it.
But I’m so grateful I did. And I’m even more grateful to have it back.
I dare say — I’ll never lose it again.
And maybe, just maybe, this was my mother’s way of reminding me that she’s still with me. Still watching over me. Still sending love — even in the form of a tiny diamond ring.
6/11/25 Things Are Looking Better
I have to say, I’m having another stellar week. So far, not one single no-show—knock on wood. Mostly wonderful guys, many of whom I hope to see again.
I looked back at some of my recent blogs about moving to St. Louis, and I realize I’ve had a bit of a bad attitude—but also, I’ve had some genuinely bad experiences. This week feels more normal. I’m getting fewer calls overall, but the quality of those calls is better. Even a few young guys showed up today! And once again, I’m being tipped multiple times a day, which is such a nice surprise. That was not the norm in Kansas City.
Speaking of Kansas City, I plan to go back July 10–12 and stay near Worlds of Fun. I’ll only be seeing repeat customers—absolutely no newbies. I’m hoping there’s enough interest to make the trip worthwhile. I also need to see my sons and my ex while I’m there.
I feel like I’m really starting to settle into St. Louis. I’ve already had a couple of repeat clients, and my house is simply lovely—so much crisper and more elegant than what I had in Kansas City.
I’m still very glad I moved back. I had dinner with my sister the other night and then visited with her at my house afterward. It was so nice just to be with her and know I’m not heading home 4½ hours away. We’re planning to get together for bingo and hopefully spend some time at her pool this summer.
My oldest sister isn’t really involving herself in my life, but I didn’t expect that she would. It is what it is. At least we recognize each other as sisters.
All that said, I do still miss Kansas City. I miss a few people there, some friends in Topeka, and my family. But all in all, I know I’m better off being here.
6/7/25 – No More Lunch/Dinner Dates
Effective immediately: no more lunch or dinner dates. And no more two-hour appointments unless I already know you.
I’m done sitting through a full hour of conversation, only to realize I don’t want to spend another minute—let alone another hour—with this person. It’s awkward, exhausting, and just not worth it.
If we’ve seen each other before and have a connection? Great. I’d be happy to spend more time, share a meal, or book a longer appointment. But if I don’t know you, I have no idea what I’m walking into—and I’m no longer willing to take that gamble.
Boundaries, baby. They’re not just healthy—they’re essential.
6/2/25 – No Shows
A 43-year-old makes an appointment. Confirms it. Tells me he’s on his way. Says he’s four minutes away. Never shows.
A 61-year-old makes an appointment. Confirms he’s coming. Disappears. My call goes straight to voicemail.
A 45-year-old comes to my house, tries to use his credit card—it doesn’t work. Says he’s going to the bank. Never comes back. Not a word since.
What is going on? How rude can people be? Is it escort hatred? A last-minute freak-out? I honestly don’t know. But I do know this: I’m sick of it.
I’ve now implemented a policy—if you’re under 40 or brand new to this, you’ll need to call to make an appointment. I’m hoping that’ll weed out at least a few flakes. I never had this issue in Kansas City. Maybe five or six no-shows in an entire month—not a week!
If anyone out there has ideas for how to combat this, I’m all ears. I’m sorry, but St. Louis is starting to feel like Flake Central. I would never waste someone else’s time like this—time is precious. This behavior is immature and inexcusable.
Karma better be real, because I can’t help but hope that what goes around comes around.
Update – 6/7/25
I wrote that rant on Monday. It’s now Saturday, and ironically, I’ve just had the best week of my career. No joke. Yes, I still had five no-shows—but I’m realizing that here in St. Louis, that’s just part of the landscape.
On the flip side, I’ve received more tips than ever before. That tells me something: they want me here. Most of the men I’ve met are delightful. A few I’ve had to block and delete—same as in Kansas City.
I’m completely unpacked, and I love my new house. It’s easily twice as nice as my place in KC. That alone says a lot. I’m happy. I’m really happy to be here.
5/30/25 My First Week Back Home
If this past week is any indication of what’s to come, I might be in trouble. I’ve already had five no-shows and several cancellations. I’m reminded of my good friend and fellow escort, Dallas Rain, who refuses to come to St. Louis because of all the no-shows and last-minute cancels she’s experienced here. I used to think I was just cursed when I stayed at the Drury Inn in Fenton—so many no-shows back then—but I chalked it up to being in a hotel.
Now I’m in a gorgeous four-bedroom home, in a lovely and accessible neighborhood. And still, the same thing.
I truly hope this week isn’t representative of how things are going to be here. Don’t get me wrong—I’ve had some amazing appointments, and I think I’ve already made a few very promising regulars. But I also had to block four people for being either incredibly rude or wildly inappropriate. Maybe I’m partly to blame for some of it, but I’m still figuring out the rhythm of this city again.
All that said, I can’t even begin to express how happy I am to be back in St. Louis. I’m close to my sisters, surrounded by great shops and restaurants, and my home? It’s to die for. It feels like mine in a way nothing in Kansas City ever really did.
So yes, despite the no-shows and cancellations, this has still been one of the best weeks I’ve had all year. I know some of my amazing Kansas City clients might be thinking, You never should’ve moved, but honestly? I’m still so glad I did.
A reply to this blog:
I read your blog about no shows and cancellations. Unfortunately you are experiencing a common problem among STL providers. Further, the same problem occurs no matter what site you post an ad.
There have been few quality providers in STL. As a result of the no show problem and a reduction in actual successful appointments, the better providers are leaving the area.
You might consider a small deposit ($25 or less) for first time clients to hold an appointment on your schedule. I know deposits are normally a limiting factor. However, it helps to identify serious clients and flushes the fakes.
Serious clients, who see STL providers, have heard and know of the no show problem. It is likely they would be willing to pay the deposit to see you the first time.
5/23/25 Moving Tomorrow
In just over 24 hours, I’ll be moving to a town I know so well—and don’t know at all. It’s been 35 years since I left St. Louis, and so much has changed. One thing that hasn’t? It’s still bigger than Kansas City—by nearly a million people if you count the east side and St. Charles County (and I will, because that’s where many of my clients will likely come from).
I’m ecstatic about this move. The house I’m moving into is so much nicer than my current place. I’ll be closer to a man I genuinely want to get to know and love. And I’ll be near my sisters again—especially Laurie, with whom I want to rebuild a relationship.
And I’m also scared as hell.
I’m renting a home that costs quite a bit more than I’m used to. I’m raising my rates, which always feels risky—but they reflect the St. Louis market, and honestly, I could probably raise them even higher. I just don’t want to. I’m nervous that someone might recognize me from high school and figure out who I am—and that it might get back to my sisters. Do I really think that’ll happen? No, not really. But if it does, I’ll deal with it. Still, the idea of living in the same town as sisters who might hate me? That’s tough.
And what if things don’t work out with this relationship?
The truth is, I’m leaving everything I know and love behind. And yet—I still believe I have to do this. I’m doing it for one reason: my happiness.
So here I am. Perplexed. Giddy. Nervous. Elated. Sad. All at once.
5/12/25 Heavy Heart
It’s with a heavy heart that I share some bittersweet news: I’m moving to St. Louis, my hometown. I’ll be closer to my sisters and slowly settling into retirement. There’s also someone special in my life—he lives just across the river in Illinois—and we’re going to see where this journey takes us.
Please know that this isn’t goodbye forever. I plan to return to Kansas City every other month, staying at a nice hotel near Worlds of Fun, and I will continue seeing regular clients only—no new faces, just the ones I already know and care about. I am planning my first trip back on July 10/11!
In the meantime, I want to make sure you’re taken care of. If you are currently my client or I have seen you in the last year, I’m happy to recommend two wonderful women:
Mary is located in Gladstone. She’s very much like me in style and personality—warm, genuine, and reasonably priced. If you’ve enjoyed our time together, I think you’ll enjoy her too. She prefers to make the first contact, so if you’d like to meet her, I’ll pass along your info and she’ll reach out to you.
Dallas Rain has been visiting Kansas City for years and stays in Overland Park. She’s not much like me in approach, but she’s a lot of fun, very experienced, and also reasonably priced. She advertises on Tryst, or I’d be happy to provide you with her contact information.
You know me—I’d never send you to a $300 or $400 escort. These are women I genuinely like and trust, and I wouldn’t recommend anyone I didn’t feel good about.
Kansas City has been so good to me, and I’ve loved every bit of my time here—especially the amazing people I’ve gotten to know. I’m sad to leave, but I’m also excited about this next chapter. I’ll be here through May 24, and I’d love the chance to see you one more time before I go.
With love,
Patty
5/4/25 Sadness
I get it.
I’d say 75% of the men I see carry a certain sadness. And 95% are married—still very much in love with their wives—but have slowly come to terms with the fact that sex, or at least good sex, may be behind them.
Their wives have gone through menopause or had a hysterectomy—two different paths to the same destination. And with that often comes a lost libido, a shift in desire. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s not neglect. It’s biology. Mother Nature, in all her wisdom, sometimes robs us of our drive just when we finally have the freedom to enjoy it. How unfair is that?
But I digress.
What I really want to talk about is the sadness I feel from so many men who don’t want to see someone like me—but feel they have to. Not because they don’t love their wives. They do. Deeply. This is the woman they married, the one they chose. The one they still long to connect with.
But that connection just isn’t there anymore—at least not in the bedroom.
They don’t want to be with someone else. They want to be met at home. But their wives have changed, and the act itself—once joyful and bonding—has become painful, dry, unsatisfying, or simply unwanted. Some women never initiate again. And many men, in their desperation, push too hard… and end up losing all the intimacy they once had.
That’s where I come in.
I offer a semblance of that lost connection. A reprieve. A warm, accepting space where you can feel close to someone again. Where you can feel wanted again.
I wrote a blog last year about how to rekindle intimacy with a post-menopausal partner. If this resonates with you, I encourage you to go back and read it. I still believe in it. Because while losing intercourse is one thing, losing all intimacy? That’s a much deeper wound.
So yes, I see your sadness. I feel it. And I’m sorry.
I’ll do my best to give you what you’ve been missing.
4/18/25 Blowjob Heaven: Another Penthouse Forum Blog!
I tell you—sweetly but firmly—to assume the position. You spread your legs and welcome me in. I crawl up between them and find my sweet spot. From there, it really depends on my mood.
Sometimes I start with your balls—especially if they’re freshly shaved. (Let’s be honest, there’s nothing worse than unshaved balls!) I’ll lick and suck them for a while—if you’re into that—and when I’ve had my fill, I’ll move up your shaft, licking you like a lollipop. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Just when you think you can’t take another second of teasing, I’ll shift my focus to the head. I’ll caress it with my lips and tongue, zeroing in on that delicious little spot—your frenulum. I’ll lick it like there’s no tomorrow, then take the head into my mouth and start pulling gently on the rim with every stroke. It won’t be easy to resist climbing on top of you right about now—but I’ll hold back.
Instead, I’ll stroke you with one hand while I take you deep into my throat, and with my free hand, I’ll go back to playing with your balls—tickling, tugging, gently squeezing. Then I’ll let your cock slip from my lips, swirl my tongue around the head, and flash you a look with my sexy green eyes. You’ll love the sight of that—almost as much as the feeling.
Up until now, I’ve just been playing with you. Teasing. But now it’s time to turn up the heat. I’ll stroke you with my mouth, slowly at first—because I know you like it that way. Then, gradually, I’ll build the pace. I know exactly how you like to come.
And when I feel you moan, vibrate, squirm—and finally surrender—I won’t stop. I’ll keep sucking you through it, swallowing every delicious sound and sensation. I want you to come… and come… and come.
Heaven, isn’t it?
4/9/25 Got My Old Phone Number Back!
Well, I appealed my case with Google Voice and got my old phone number back. So please call me at 816–7 82–7996.
4/5/25 Men Who Get Discouraged
I hate that I even have to write this blog, but it happens so often in my practice that I feel like I need to talk about it.
When men can’t perform the way they think they should, they get very discouraged. And once that discouragement sets in, it’s like a switch flips—suddenly, the session feels over. There’s not much I can do at that point to bring things back. The best I can offer is a warm, relaxing massage and my signature back tickle.
It may not be what they came for, but it’s still something special. Honestly, my back tickle is an experience in and of itself—most people have never had anything like it. But I know that’s not what’s on their mind when they book the appointment.
Still, I want to be clear: it’s not my fault, and it’s not theirs either. It’s almost always due to nerves, ED, or both. Erectile dysfunction can start around age 48, and by the late 50s, it’s incredibly common. There are lots of things that can help with ED, but that’s not what this blog is about.
What I want to say is: it’s normal to feel discouraged the first time you see an escort. It’s nerve-racking! I do my best to help you feel calm and comfortable, but sometimes it’s just hard to relax—especially when you’re putting pressure on yourself.
And I really believe that if you’re not going to feel comfortable with me, you’re probably not going to feel comfortable with anyone. That’s why I always say: find someone you like and stick with them. It’s easier, safer, and just makes everything better.
I’ve had a few appointments lately where I know the client left feeling disappointed. Mostly disappointed in themselves, but maybe a little in me, too. And that hurts. I’m disappointed, too—mostly because I know I probably won’t see them again. And even though I did everything I could, it still feels like I failed.
But I know I didn’t. And still… it stings.
I guess it just is what it is.
3/28/25 Rates and Dates
It’s funny to think about how this all started for me back in 2015, in Topeka, Kansas. At the time, I charged $60 for a half hour and $100 for a full hour—and I actually did pretty well with that. Even in Topeka, I was seeing a decent number of clients. But when I raised my rates to $75 and $125, I lost almost all of my business. So I did the smart thing: I moved to Kansas City.
When I first got to Kansas City, I kept the same rates—and, oh boy, I was seeing seven people a day. That pace got me a reputation as high-volume, and I really didn’t like that. So I bumped up my rates to $100 for a half hour and $150 for an hour. That helped. I felt better about the work and who I was seeing.
As I got more popular, I raised my rates again—to $100/$175, and not long after that, $100/$180. I kept those rates throughout my time in Raytown in 2018. When I moved to my current place, I went up again to $120/$200, and stayed there for a solid five years. Then in February 2024, I made another adjustment: $120/$220. And that’s where I am today.
I feel my rates are more than fair—for who I am, what I offer, how I look, and how I do things. Lately, my ad has been bringing in new people, and I’m realizing just how unique I am in this industry. A lot of men tell me they’ve never experienced anything like what I offer. Certainly not with an escort.
Recently, I met with another provider who advertises on Tryst.link. She charges $300 an hour but only makes about a third of what I do, so she reached out for advice. I suggested she lower her donation. Not to be harsh, but she’s 46—not that it’s old, but in this business, it matters—and she isn’t particularly striking. She wears too much makeup, and her apartment was small, cluttered, and honestly, kind of a mess. But that’s not unusual in this field. A lot of providers are hot messes, unfortunately.
That said, she’s not on drugs, she’s sweet, and she’s cute underneath all that makeup. She’s also very accommodating. But a lot of her choices are driven by fear—especially living on the Kansas side, where law enforcement can be intense. She hasn’t been busted since 2020, and I tried to reassure her that simply posting an ad isn’t what gets you busted. It doesn’t work that way. Her issue was putting sex and money in the same text message—you just can’t do that.
She also told me you can’t be paid cash for anything in Overland Park, which I honestly find ridiculous. If anyone out there knows something I don’t, feel free to enlighten me.
Another thing she didn’t realize: if you say you’re available 24/7, people will assume you’re on meth. I mean, how else would you be up at 3am ready to go? Maybe I’m wrong, but I doubt it.
She also negotiated her rate with almost everyone, which I think is a mistake. If you set a rate, stick to it. Specials are one thing, but constant haggling means you don’t really have a rate. Personally, I never negotiate. It’s just something I won’t do.
I told her I’d refer some people her way in the evenings, since I don’t see clients then—but that’s about the extent of it.
3/26/25 Advice on Being Safe
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The only cop that will ever bust you is an undercover police person, and they will never tell you if they are a cop or not. So there’s no reason to ask a provider if they are a cop.
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Never talk about sex on text. You can talk about money. But you cannot talk about sex and money.
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If you want to verify if a provider is a cop or not, ask her to show you her boob or kiss you, because no female cop will do that.
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If a provider asks you what you like to do sexually, this could be a way of getting you to talk about sex. Do not go there, whether over a text or in person.
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Your best bet is to see a provider at either a house, or an apartment as the police do not use these to do stings.
2/22/25 Love/Hate Relationship with My Mach-E
Let me start by saying that I absolutely love this car. My electric Mach-E is hands down the coolest car I’ve ever owned. It practically drives itself, and everything is automated—even the high beams come on automatically when no one’s around at night. But… I also hate this car.
I hate that anytime I go more than an hour away from home, I have to charge it. That means even a trip to Topeka to see my son requires a charging stop. It’s not for long—maybe 15 minutes—but it’s still a hassle. Sometimes, I wish I could just pull into a gas station and fill up in five minutes. But that’s not my reality anymore.
When I drive to St. Louis, I have to stop and charge in Boonville. Then, once I’m in St. Louis, I have to charge almost every day if I’m moving around town.
Now, granted, charging at home is easy and cheap. I’ve figured out that I drive this car for about two cents per mile—maybe three cents in the winter. Compare that to a gas-powered car, which probably costs around eleven cents per mile. So for city driving, it’s a steal. But highway driving? Not so much.
In St. Louis, I end up spending more on charging than I ever did on gas because fast chargers cost $0.56 per kWh, compared to the $0.12 per kWh I pay at home. That’s part of why traveling to St. Louis feels like such a pain.
Another frustration with these fast chargers? They’ll get me to 80% charge in 30 minutes, but getting to 100% takes another whole hour. Why? I have no idea—but it is what it is.
I do love this car, but honestly, it would make a great second car. Having an ICE (internal combustion engine) vehicle for travel would be nice. But the truth is, I’m a homebody—I probably won’t be traveling much anymore anyway.
One of the best things about this car? No oil changes. Practically no maintenance besides tire rotations and brakes. But when it comes time for new tires, I’ll likely need to buy fiveand rotate through them since my car is all-wheel drive. I recently learned that all the tires need to have the same tread wear—so having a spare in the rotation makes sense. It’s an interesting factoid… but also an expensive one. And because this car is so heavy, I’ll have to replace tires more often.
Am I keeping this car? Absolutely. It may be a hassle, but I’m going to make it work—because I love it. One of these days, I’ll make a list of all the amazing features it has, because honestly? This car drives better than I do. And I’m humble enough to admit that!
2/21/25 Mmmmm Yeah
Next time I see you, I’m going to make sure of one thing—you’re left breathless.
I’ll walk in wearing my slinky lingerie, sliding between your open legs, and finding that thick, rock-hard cock of yours. First, I’ll tease you—licking up and down, circling the tip, taking my time right where I know you love it most. Then, I’ll move lower, tasting you, sucking your balls just enough to make you shiver inside.
When I have you right on the edge, I’ll climb on top, grinding against you slow and deep, setting the rhythm. But you know we won’t stay slow for long.
Soon, you’ll flip me over, taking control like you love to do. You’ll take me from behind, then press me flat, stretching me out beneath you. And you—so big, so perfect—will fuck me just the way I need.
And when you finally let go, filling me up, I’ll turn over beneath you, pulling you down for long, slow kisses. I’ll run my fingers over your back, tracing your skin, loving every inch of you with my hands, my lips, my tongue.
I love you so much, I’d even do a car date with you.
Have a great day, baby!!
2/9/25 – The Week From Hell
It started on Monday when I was supposed to leave for St. Louis for the entire week. I locked my keys in my electric vehicle—with the car running—and had to call AAA. About 15 minutes later, I suddenly remembered that I had a key code to unlock the door. Thankfully, I had written it down in last year’s schedule book. Crisis averted.
Then came the drive. I somehow ended up on a one-hour detour down dirt roads, stuck behind 18-wheelers, just waiting for one to tip over in front of me. When I finally got through, I saw two semis sprawled across the highway on their sides, cargo scattered everywhere. It was a mess—absolutely horrible.
I made it to Boonville to charge my car, only to find the charger wouldn’t work. Turns out, when I got a new debit card, I forgot to update the payment info for the charging networks. Thankfully, there was another charger in town that worked, but the frustration was piling up.
By midweek, things weren’t much better. I had eight cancellations in three days. If you know me, you know I do not handle cancellations well—especially eight of them. By that point, I was pretty fed up.
Then, Friday morning, I woke up to no hot water in the entire hotel. No refund, no apology, nothing. So, I packed up and switched hotels, canceling everyone for the day. The new place wasn’t much better—the water was warm but definitely not hot. At this point, I was beyond done.
The one bright spot? I had a wonderful weekend with a really good friend, which helped salvage things a bit. But along the way, I made a decision: I’m never traveling again. I’m just done. I don’t force myself to do things I really don’t want to do, and this is one of them. Between the stress and the expenses, I probably made less this week than I would have staying in Kansas City. Some of that was my fault—maybe most of it—but the lesson is clear: traveling for work just isn’t worth it. Live and learn.
And then… the Super Bowl.
2/5/25 Anxious Escort
Maybe this will resonate with some of you, but I definitely suffer from anxiety. As an escort, that can be a real liability because I’m constantly meeting new people and stepping into “unfamiliar situations” – things that naturally make me anxious. I know I’ve talked about depression before, but anxiety is something that developed later in my life. It can be just as debilitating, but it’s usually shorter-lived. And, thankfully, certain medications can really help.
I just wish I didn’t have it. I’m still figuring out what triggers it. I know that seeing too many people in a day can set it off, so I try to avoid overbooking myself. Overthinking things can also send me spiraling, so I write things down to get them out of my head and onto paper. As you may well know.
One thing I’ve learned is that if you suffer from anxiety, I’ll probably recognize it in you because I see the same signs in myself. And let’s be honest. Meeting someone new can be nerve-wracking, even when you’re looking forward to it. That leads me to my last thought: excitement and nervousness are two sides of the same coin. They feel almost identical, but one carries a positive charge while the other feels negative. I try to reframe my nerves as excitement, to shift my perspective in a way that serves me. It doesn’t always work, but I try.
I guess this is just another foible of mine.
1/30/25 Understanding Sexual Addiction
Sexual addiction isn’t just a high sex drive—it’s compulsive sexual behavior that feels out of control, often leading to distress, damaged relationships, and neglect of responsibilities.
Signs of Sexual Addiction
• Repeatedly failing to control sexual urges
• Using sex as an escape from stress or emotional pain
• Feeling guilt or shame after acting on urges
• Engaging in risky behavior despite consequences
• Neglecting personal, work, or social responsibilities due to sexual preoccupation
Is It Really an Addiction?
While debated, sexual addiction shares similarities with substance addiction, especially in how the brain processes pleasure and reward. It’s not about morality but about compulsive behavior that disrupts life.
Breaking the Shame Cycle
Shame often keeps people stuck. Society promotes sex yet judges those who struggle with it. Seeking help—through therapy or support groups—can break the cycle and lead to healthier coping mechanisms.
Sexual addiction isn’t hopeless. With the right support, change is possible. Recognizing the problem is the first step toward a more balanced, fulfilling life.
1/22/25 People Do Change
I used to believe that people didn’t change. I couldn’t even pinpoint anything about myself that had changed, so I was convinced that transformation was a myth. And then—I became an escort.
What a change that was.
I grew up with money, in a good family, the kind that would never understand why I do what I do. And I don’t blame them. Before I made this choice, I wouldn’t have understood it either. But I did make the choice, and I’ve never looked back—not really. I like what I do. I’m good at what I do. I make a lot of money doing it. And if you had told me years ago that I’d be here, I never would have believed you. So to say that people don’t change? That’s a complete misnomer.
For a long stretch of my life, I didn’t even enjoy sex. I barely had it. At 30, I was prescribed 200 mg of Zoloft, a strong SSRI antidepressant. And back in 1991, SSRIs wiped out your libido. Maybe some don’t now, but I doubt it. So, I didn’t want sex. I had just enough to secure my place in my marriage, and then I stopped.
I feel bad about that—for him, for me. A lot of women use sex as a tool, and I did, too. I’m not proud of it, but it was what it was. My ex and I barely touched each other except to procreate, and looking back, that was a deeply sad chapter of my life.
Fast forward to 2007. I was taken off antidepressants, and my libido came roaring back. And unlike many women, menopause didn’t take it away. That was a stroke of luck. My relationship with sex changed long before I started escorting in 2015, but even then, I never could have imagined this would be my path. And yet, here I am. People do change.
Another transformation? My weight. It wasn’t just physical—it took me a long time to mentally catch up to my new body. For the most part, I embrace it. But I’ve paid a price. These days, I never know for certain if my stomach will feel okay. That was never an issue before, but now it’s a daily uncertainty. Not a dealbreaker, just a reality.
And then there’s the biggest shift of all: who I am as a person.
Last year, I decided to turn over a new leaf. And I believe anyone can do this at any point in life—if the desire is strong enough. Mine was. I got sick of the way I was treating people. I wanted to be better. I truly believe that what goes around comes around, and I made a conscious choice to change.
And here’s the remarkable thing: all these changes—some chosen, some unexpected—have led me to where I am now. And where I am is a very good place.
I don’t have much to complain about these days. And that, in itself, is something to be grateful for.
1/19/25 Raising the Bar: How I Redefine Connection in an Industry Built on Distance
Not every man is looking for the kind of experience I offer, and that’s okay. Some prefer a simple, no-frills encounter, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But for those who want something deeper—something real—this is how I redefine what connection can be.
Most men who see an escort don’t expect to connect. They don’t expect warmth. They don’t expect to feel anything beyond the surface.
And that, right there, is where I change everything.
I don’t just provide an experience—I create a moment in time that lingers. A moment where a man, maybe for the first time in a long time, feels seen. Feels held. Feels like more than just another transaction.
I raise the bar, and here’s how:
I bring authenticity into every encounter.
A lot of women in this industry treat it like a job—and I get that. They clock in, they do the bare minimum, and they clock out. No kissing, no cuddling, no warmth. Just mechanics.
That’s not me. That’s never been me.
I engage. I listen. I make eye contact that isn’t just for show—I see the man in front of me, and I let him feel that. Because for so many men, real intimacy isn’t something they get at home. It’s not something they even know they’re missing until they feel it again.
I give men permission to be vulnerable.
You’d be amazed at what men will share when they feel safe enough to do so. Stories about their childhood, their marriages, their regrets, their dreams.
Most people don’t ask them real questions. Most people don’t lean in and really listen.
But I do.
And that’s why men come back—not just for the physical experience, but because, for an hour or two, they don’t have to pretend to be someone else. They don’t have to perform. They can just be.
I make intimacy about more than sex.
Let’s be honest—sex is easy. Real intimacy? That’s rare.
I kiss. I touch. I hold. I let moments breathe.
So many men go their entire lives without experiencing that kind of closeness. And when they do? It changes them. Because even if they can’t put it into words, they feelthe difference.
Why does this matter?
Because men aren’t taught how to ask for emotional connection. They’re told to toughen up, to push their feelings down, to never need anyone.
And then they meet me.
And suddenly, for an hour, they’re not just another guy moving through the motions. They’re someone. They’re seen.
And that? That’s why I do what I do. That’s why I’m successful. That’s why I stand apart.
I don’t just provide an experience.
I give men something real.
And that’s what keeps them coming back.
1/13/25 Fuckball
I know you’ve heard of football but have you ever heard of fuckball? It’s basically a scenario where you’re watching the Chiefs and getting fucked doggy style. But there are rules! If the Chiefs score a field goal, he gets a blow job. Touchdowns are worth an orgasm.Doesn’t that sound like fun? What a great idea. It wasn’t my own. It was actually a Saint Louis client of mine. And speaking of which I’m going there February 5-7 and I already have 15 people booked! Go me!
1/1/25 Resolutions
Every year I make New Year’s resolutions and almost every year I don’t really follow through with them. But this past year I found that I had started following through with them, and that makes me want to do more New Year’s resolutions this year to see if these things can also be created by myself. So here goes:
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Meet a man that I will have a wonderful loving relationship with.
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Continue to use my exercycle until it becomes a habit and then continue to use it for the entire year.
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Continue to go to meet ups and Timeleft dinners so that I can get out of the house and meet people.
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Set boundaries with my son and stick to them.
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Continue the prosperity I have found.
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Gain more regular clients.
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Save money every single month.
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Take a self-defense course.