Student life teaches you many lessons. How to wear a pair of jeans for a few weeks, what to do with mould in your coffee cup, and how to get through lectures on a few hours’ sleep. What it doesn’t teach you, though, is the art of saying NO.
I had a brush with becoming a male escort. There, I said it. And the story goes… A friend of mine approached me when I was studying at Stellies. It was apparent that he was making more than a few extra bucks with a part-time job he seemed to be enjoying. This gloating guy jokingly tested me to see if I was keen to give it a bash, and being no stranger to a dare and in desperate need of some cash, this 20-year-old went along for the ride and took him up on his offer.
After making it through the interview round, my first ‘assignment’ was to sit at Zorba’s Coffee Shop in the Gardens Centre and make eyes at any lonely-looking ladies – a sort of recruitment process, preying on unsuspecting ladies who looked as if they might be in need of some young male company. Needless to say, Big Mouth tottered off to the said coffee shop full of confidence, only to find myself sinking lower and lower into my chair and wondering what the heck I was doing there. I abruptly paid for my coffee and slunk away, completely unnoticed, I hope.
I’m glad to say that the only escorting I did was escorting myself right out of there!
