How in the world did that happen?? For those of you who do not know, a telephone actress is someone who has phone sex with men for money, but they are only acting. Surprised? You thought girls named Bambi actually work those calls? Think again. Housewives like me can get paid a whopping .25 cents/minutes to keep guys from doing you know what for as long as possible.
I thought that this could be another piece of the financial puzzle for me. As I have written previously, my financial picture is not easy; I bring in money to my household with one full time job, and as many other little ways as I can. It is unfortunate, that milk costs $5.00 ( $4.99 if I am not exaggerating) a gallon, and let’s not even speak about the cost of sneakers for my kids. It seemed so easy. There are so many companies that were looking for phone actresses. It was becoming the norm; even Good Morning America had a piece on SAHM becoming phone actresses, and a well know job site Rat Race Rebellion offers a page on some of the more reputable companies offering these positions. ( No pun intended) So, I figured, it’s mainstream. It is safe ( calls are routed, not answered directly by your phone ), why not give it a try?
I have done phone sex before. Mostly, I roll my eyes, and make sounds while I think about something else. I guess I just find the whole thing humorous. Men and Sex. How easy it is to disconnect from the world and release. I am honestly not sure if I would even want to be able to shut off my brain that easily, on command. Related, in a strange way, I received a call from a recent date, shortly after my Mom passed away. I told him, I was in mourning, and had no time for him. He told me that he “knew what I needed”, alluding to me pleasuring him in some manner. “Really, I asked him? How is giving you a blow job going to make ME feel better?”. I slammed the phone down, and deleted the ongoing text message that had run for weeks. Him popping in to say Hi, when can we go out again, and me making up excuse after excuse. I am not so easily flattered these days.
OK, time for the excuses. It wasn’t really an interview, it was a list of questions, that I needed to write my answers to. How would I explain to a man that I was taking off my clothes, or how would I explain to a man what I wanted to do to him? I know the problem. As I laughed my butt off, I sat there, focusing on the grammatical errors in the questions, and tried to answer them in my head, then compose my answers in fundamentally correct answers, that would get the best scores on the College Entrance Exams. I have never been told that I am sexually uptight. I am no prude. But the whole process seemed odd. Clandestine conversations with me… my “clients”. Like Belle in Secret Diary of a Call Girl, except she took home wads of cash, looks like a model, and I am working to prevent my “clients” from orgasming so that I could earn $1.00 for the call, rather than $.75. Honestly, the grammatical errors seemed more interesting.
So, why did I bother? Why get involved in something as distasteful as phone sex for money? Could I not cut out a few cups of coffee during the month, and make ends meet that way? Maybe being a telephone actress was my “calling”? I could roll my eyes all I wanted, and secretly laugh as I built my little black book of Clients knowing X’s fetish from Y’s greatest secret. All the while, I could have time to sit down and pair socks. I did the math. A solid hour on the phone could net me $10-15 an hour. Not what I had in mind when I earned my doctoral degree. How many of these men would I need to speak to each week to know that my groceries were paid for? That math made me cry as if I was a school child being told that they were about to have a Common Core math test.
To this day, there are some things that I am proud of, and some things that I am less proud of… This is one of the less proud moments of my life. I can hear BFF shaking her head as she reads this. We had a good laugh about it. Even before receiving my REJECTION letter, I had decided that this was not for me. I was somehow stuck on the idea that if I ever wanted to maintain a healthy relationship with a male at any point, having a little black book of Clients was probably going to be a huge road block. When I told BFF that I was rejected, she said that I should be flattered. I never loved her more than at that moment. No Judgement. Just pure compassion. Now, where can I find a man like that???