Five or six years ago my life took one of those turns, file under "you can't make this stuff

up", when I took a deep breath and dove into the pay for sex pool. Now, I completely appreciate that a large number

of guys will think of this as a cop out, or too gross, or too risky, just plain not done, or some horrific fall from

grace in the eyes of God, their superego, community standards, things their friends and parents would freak out

about if they knew, voluntary virgins would weep and pray for you....

There was the other side of the street

to consider, however, as many of our more seasoned posters have spoken of, the weird triangles you unexpectedly find

yourself in, emotional blackmail (I've known a few women who must have gotten advanced degrees in this specialty),

all the confusions of "true feelings", whatever the heck they are, and pure slathering reproductive DNA spewing

instincts, or mostly the damned stupidity of spending untold amounts of money trying to be noticed, dating scenes,

clubs that are so loud and the patrons are so drunk you can't think a complete sentence to yourself, more untold

amounts of misused time, girls who play the preggo game to lock you in (happens all the time and nobody talks about

this one, no media comes clean about the guys who find themselves drafted into fatherhood and all their protective,

responsible instincts get triggered... ooops must have forget a pill or ten when I was about to ovulate

!)

Yeah, I had been the responsible guy, the good guy and I had been played like a schmuck for my charitable

attitude. Midlife crisis ? Fuck the midlife crisis. I was going to consciously regress part of my life back to my

teen years and totally blow off the identity that society had glued to me.

Smartest thing I ever did.

Researched the escort websites, followed the discussions until I felt I had a grounding in how the game was played,

and then..... bada bada baaaa, trembling with insecurity made the phone call to an, ummmm... gentleman's

establishment that caters to the mid priced bracket that my lifestyle permits. Lucked out, this place was sane, well

managed, and some of the girls were among the coolest people I've gotten to know.

Many, many preconceptions

about this activity went sailing out the window, say, like when you actually get to know people of different

ethnicity and you see how much you thought you knew about them were absurd preconceptions...

About the same

time I was finding out about pheromones as products one could purchase and use, instead of laboratory items that

never made it to the public.

Not surprisingly, the availability of decent to mind boggling sex depending on

the factors of the evening, without needing to blow one or more futile nights trying to score, minus the liver

stress of the drinking, the staying up too late, the ludicrous stupidity of charming some questionable babe home to

my place, or home to her place, or the pathetic dating scene... nope, freeedom from all that, one or two hours of

superior physical jammin, clean bed with fresh sheets, shower if you need it, with a stunning woman half my age that

I would have about 1:1000 chance of hooking up with in a public joint, some nice conversation, nice massage after

the high point of the evening, home again, long soak in the tub as this is an aerobic activity par excellance, and

sound asleep by midnight...

Following this line of reasoning so far ? Yes, it costs money, quality costs

money, you get nuttin for nuttin, but when you calculate the real, summarised costs of cruising for nookie, it's

cheaper and way less stressful...

Now, take the above and add pheromones. Big, juicy large doses of

pheromones, lotsa androstenone, lotsa androstenol, have no shame, the night is yours, and finish it with a good

spray of classy cologne, consider it an investment.

What then, Mr. Wizard ??? What happens when you add sex

madness pheromones to an already combustible mix ???

Well, Grasshopper, sometimes not much. Some women don't

respond strongly, it is maybe a touch friendlier, a touch more communicative...Other times... wellllll, other times

its like detonating nitroglycerine and you know whats coming when they give you The Look, nope, it isn't DIHL,

it's more like, dude you are about to be swallowed whole... in more than one sense of the word...

Where does

that leave us ? The crucial thing in my experience is that there is almost no background sexual pressure with

"civilians", as non-pros are known in the trade. It becomes greatly easier to sort out what is the emotional and

intellectual side of a relationship, and what is the physical drive. Sex with pros can still have warmth, emotional

communication, and dare I say it, meaning. No more do I wonder what this one or that one of my civilian friendships,

business relations, casual contacts might be like as a sexual partner.... ooooh baby, what's she like naked ?

Don't much care, don't much need to reflect on it, sure won't be mindlessly chasing it... if the hornies are

creeping up, the solution, a reliable no hassle, no deep where do we go from here conversation thing, what you see

is what you get experience is a phone call away.

That can be massively liberating. If somebody's wife wants

to play footsie with me or flash me her thingie, yep, been there and seen that, most of us old pharts have once or

twice, I can say, yeah, that's cute, flattered that you care so much for me, but I'm not your man-ho to play your

mind games with sweety, and if I feel a residual stirring in my loins, a shave, shower, a quick mone OD and a spritz

of cologne, and I'm good for a week.