walk my way into the restaurant, desperate to get this over with and excited to get it off my chest. Excitement is not something I thought I would be feeling at a time like this, but I think Iâm just excited to finally spill the beans. I feel like I have been holding onto this secret for so long, and Iâm ready to figure it out.
I see Jeremy instantly, waiting for me at our favorite table. We used to come here often, almost weekly, but we both got busy with life. He started working overtime at his construction job since the busy season started and I started a new job last month as a financial planner. I have been in the field before, but not like this, so it has sucked most of my time up. Aside from when Iâm fucking people so bad, they leave my bed, of course.
I walk over to the table in the dimly lit restraint, enjoying the familiarity of it. The tables are all dark wood, making it feel homey. The leather on the seats feels genuine and the drinks are usually made extra strong, which is the biggest reason Jeremy and I started coming here in the first place.
Jeremy stands up and we do the typical man hug with the pat on the back thing before we both settle into our seats. Something about the familiarity makes it feel easier to have this conversation too. This place calms my nerves on every level, and although Iâm still full of shame, itâs almost outweighed by comfort.
âHowâs it going, man? You seemed pretty tense on the phone,â Jeremy asks instantly, making me smile. He has never been one to beat around the bush.
âItâs been okay,â I say, not knowing how to lie to him, but not wanting to come right out with the truth before I have even been served a drink.
Our server comes up and takes both of our orders. We both do our regulars, him a scotch on the rocks, and me a rum and coke. The server leaves quickly to get our drinks and we are left alone again, forcing me to face up to my reality.
âYou got something on your mind?â Jeremy asks, looking serious and full of humor at the same time, a vibe he has perfected over the years.
âI may have a slight problem I wanted to work out with you,â I mumble, suddenly not very excited about this conversation.
Against my better judgment though, I take a deep breath, and finally spill every single second of the last hour of my life, and give him as much background as I can.
My words finally stop, and Jeremy is looking at me like I just told him I want to cut my own head off. His head cocks to the side, as he fully takes in my words. His eyebrows scrunch together as he thinks about it.
âShe just got up? In the middle of banging?â Jeremy asks as if he doesnât believe me. I start to nod, and he starts to shake his head, asking me to stop. âDude, I thought you were fucking around all the time. How didnât I know about this?â His words cut me unexpectedly deep. I have always been open with Jeremy and it isnât like our friendship for me to keep something so big a secret, but I couldnât help myself. I didnât want to get made fun of, but honestly, I should have known better when it comes to Jeremy.
âI didnât tell anyone,â I confess, pushing the embarrassment away for the moment. âI thought I could figure it out on my own but I gave it time and I havenât been able to. The only reason Iâm saying anything now is that Iâm desperate for a solution.â The truth in my words hits me, and Iâm struck by the realization that something needs to change. Iâm not happy with how my sex life is going, and Iâve been a backseat driver for too long. Itâs time to finally figure this out.
I canât keep pushing womenâs needs aside and hope that it gets better. It makes me feel like a tool and I hate that. It me a tool and I hate that. I canât even imagine the shit people have said about it, and instead of doing something about it, I have just been ignoring it and hoping it would go away.
âThis bothers you, doesnât it?â Jeremy asks, trying to figure out my feelings. I let out a long sigh, trying to commit to the fact that I need to have this conversation. The idea of forcing myself to figure this out is easy, but actually doing it is another thing entirely.
When I go to open my mouth, the words sit in the back of my throat, unable to come out. Itâs foreign to me to open up, and a part of me doesnât want to do it. But the part of me that wants to make a woman cum, wins.
âIâve been ignoring it for years hoping it would go away. I just feel like I should have figured it out by now,â I finally admit, trying to get the boulder of truth rolling down the hill.
âListen, I donât say this lightly,â Jeremy says, looking me in the eyes. âHave you ever thought of getting someone to teach you?â He looks at me earnestly and humiliation runs through my veins quickly. I do my best to push my embarrassment away, knowing it isnât helping me get over this, but fuck itâs hard.
âI donât want to tell some stranger off the street that I donât know how to fuck,â I say sheepishly, wishing to god that I never had to hear those words come out of my mouth. This is the reason I never wanted to say anything.
âThatâs not what Iâm thinking,â Jeremy says, giving me a slight raise of his eyebrows. I stare at him, trying to read the hidden meaning behind his words, but coming up short. What the fuck is he talking about? I give him a look that says exactly what Iâm thinking and he still doesnât answer.
âDude, use your words,â I say, starting to get annoyed.
âWhat if you someone to teach you?â Jeremy asks honestly.
âLike a hooker?â I ask, shocked he thought of that idea so easily. Iâve been dealing with this for years and that thought has never crossed my mind, mostly because I have no idea how I would even go about finding someone to hire for sex.
âI think theyâre called sex workers nowadays, dude,â Jeremy corrects, and it proves my point. I donât know jack shit about sex workers, much less how to hire one to teach me how to fuck.
âEither way, I donât know anything about getting a sex worker,â I say, exasperated and feeling like he is missing the point. I want to figure this out and off-the-wall ideas are not what I need right now.
âI shouldnât even be telling you this, but I have this buddy who pays for sex regularly,â Jeremy says with a tilt of his head.
âRegularly?â I ask, confused.
âI guess he has this woman that he sees every few weeks. Sheâs like a small business sex worker. She only has a few clients who she likes and trusts, and wonât see anyone unless they get referred to her,â he says, shrugging his shoulders as if he isnât quite sure.
âHuh,â I state, still digesting this information.
âI donât know if he would do it, but I could ask if he would refer you,â Jeremy suggests and my eyes dart to his. Heâs serious.
I run the idea through my head for a few seconds, really trying to digest it. It feels off-the-wall, but every normal idea has wasted my time. Iâve tried learning through porn, and that never got me anywhere because I never felt like I could transfer the things I learned in the video to real life. I tried with one-night stands, and I still didnât do anything other than leave a bunch of women unsatisfied.
Maybe someone who is used to being paid for sex is the perfect person for the job. I could explain what is happening, with less fear of them walking away instantly because I canât guarantee satisfaction.
Why would I trust a random stranger off the street to teach me how to fuck, when there are professionals for something like that? If I wanted to learn basketball, I wouldnât ask a rookie to teach me how to play, I would ask someone who plays ball for a living. Why should this be any different?
I hear myself talking before I even have a second to think about the words coming out of my mouth. âYa know what? Why not? Give him a call and see what he says,â I say, finally feeling like there may be a solution in my future.