August 19 - Gentlemen of the Afternoon

Two men in their early 20s sat on a park bench near a pond where couples were paddling around on swan boats.
"Is this where you normally set up?" the younger one asked.
"If the weather's nice, yeah," the older one answered without looking. His eyes were casually scanning the park.
"Where else do you go?"
"On a nice day? Parks are good. I also go to farmers markets, any sort of ethnic festival. If it's cold or rainy? Museums, bookstores, galleries."
"And who talks first?"
"Well, that's kind of tricky. Neither of you, really."
The younger one waited for the older one to explain.
"See, it's kind of a delicate situation. To help save face, you have to be able to maintain an air of plausible deniability. Neither of you can come out and talk openly about what's really happening--at any time, by the way. Not just the beginning."
"So how does it work?"
"Well yeah, you're by yourself and she's by herself, and you both kind of glance at each other and then look away a couple of times. And then maybe she pretends like she recognizes you and asks you something, like if you're meeting someone or if you're so and so's friend or sometimes she has a name for you. And whatever it is, you go along with it."
"OK?"
"And the beginning is the hardest part because you have to figure out who you're supposed to be to this woman, like instantly, and then be that person. Maybe it's a 'blind date', maybe you're a friend of a friend, whatever. But you have to stay in character. The whole time. You can never openly say or even hint that you're a companionship gun for hire. That would ruin the illusion. And the afternoon. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, I guess," he said, mulling it over. "And then you, like, just hang out?"
"Pretty much. Like here, we'd do the swan boats. Maybe grab some ice cream afterwards. Check out some street performers. If it's a museum, we check out the exhibits, get coffee afterwards. Basically, anything a couple would do for a Saturday afternoon date, that's what you do."
"What about, um, sex?"
The older guy shook his head. "Nah. Most women that hire guys like us aren't interested in sex. They just want to do couple type things for an afternoon and then go back to their normal routines afterwards."
"Do they ever try to get anything more, you know, real going?"
"What, this isn't real?" He pretended to be shocked.
"You know what I mean. Like, uncompensated. Real names. Not role playing."
"No, I know. Um, surprisingly, no."
"So what the hell?"
"My guess is that they're just busy. And single. And maybe mostly OK with it or too busy to get a full on relationship going, but every once in a while, they still miss doing couple type things. They just don't have time to have a 'real' relationship. So they get their fix with guys like us for a few hours, get the monkey off their back, and go back to their regular lives. Without feeling like they have to call someone. And definitely without stressing out about the guy not calling them."
The younger one sat quietly, digesting it.
The older one began speaking again. "You think it's weird, don't you?"
"No, not really. If anything, what I feel strange about is that it doesn't feel strange, if that makes any sense. Like, I get it. It's just--what are they paying for? It's not love. It's not sex. I don't know how to explain it."
"I've had it described to me as the commodification of companionship."
He shrugged. "Yeah, that works."
"The idea takes some getting used to. As does maintaining the illusion of it. It's like, both of you know that you're role playing. And you know that the other person knows, and on and on and on. But there's this tacit agreement to keep it going and not openly acknowledge it. It's kind of exciting in a way. Like the next level of improv without a net. And by the way, speaking of which, if you're in the business, this gig is great practice. You can really develop your own basic character type--or character types, you know, since you've got to be tuned in to what your client is into."
"Yeah, that reminds me. How do you get paid?"
"Ah, that. Usually, I do it as a loan type situation."
"What do you mean?"
"Like at the end of our time together--by the way, she pays for everything, of course--I'll apologize profusely and tell her I'm super embarrassed and I would usually never ask her for such a favor, blah, blah, blah, but I need to borrow some money to . . . whatever. Pay a vet bill, get this sweater for my mom I just saw on sale, whatever."
"Do you negotiate the price?"
"Almost never. Most women know the going rate is a buck fifty for three hours."
"Really?"
The older one shrugged. "It's all pretty straightforward. She gives you the money, you both conveniently forget to agree on how you'll pay the money back, and then you go your separate ways."
The younger one raised his eyebrows and nodded. He understood.
"So," the older one said. "You ready to give it a shot?"