Dating Patrick Bateman

and I lived!

There was a man  who I saw for a year when I moved here. Brutish finance bro who had won big early in his career and  life and lived like a rockstar most Saturday nights. Hookers, coke, top shelf scotch, molly. 

I did not meet him through the usual channels. There was a worker I met through a support network for industry people. This person was so cool, a long time provider but trying to make their way out of the industry. 

One day, they were shooting photos for my website and they told me, “I have a client who I've seen for 8 years, and he is always looking for girls that are new to the business. Want me to pass your info along?” 

My pupils rolled back and dollar signs appeared. Of course. Without hesitation. I trusted this person would set me up with someone good. Sure enough, I was stepping into an UberBlack the following Saturday. (I truly still do owe this person because their connection ended up being my primary source of income during my first year of living in NYC.)

Often, I asked my client what he did.

 “Are you a Wall Street guy?”

“Wall Street guys could never do what we do,” he would reply.  

And I still don’t know what that means or what he did for a living. But it didn’t  really matter because he owned a corner apartment in Flatiron that he purchased in cash. Each bathroom had a bidet control unit built into the wall. His living room walls were covered with contemporary art pieces he had purchased directly from Art Basel. His furniture probably once sat on display at Ligne Roset so of course I had to leave my shoes at the door. 

Unless you met him you really have no idea what he was like. He was an asshole through and through. But of course he was slightly charming and funny,  yet domineering. He is a textbook finance bro. Bloated ego, psychopathic, and addicted to drugs. When I watched American Psycho for the first time, I realized Christian Bale’s character was just a more attractive version of this guy. Sans the coathangers and murders. (That I know of). All this guy really just wanted was to feel important. And I did genuinely revere him in his presence. He had a knack for persuasion. He convinced me that no matter how much scotch he drank or lines he did, he was not an addict. One time he told me that his great uncle screwed hookers and did coke until the very end of his long life. He believed he was going to do the same.

What this client wanted in the bedroom was a little different than what I'm used to. I don’t wanna give away too much about the services I provide but let’s just say I'm not a dominatrix. By any means. But this guy basically wanted the services of a dominatrix. To this day, I have never had a client desire something so routine, so painfully habitual. It was no wonder he hired someone to do it because it was more of a job to be executed than physical affection to feel close to another human. 

For at least a year, my Saturday nights looked like this: an Uberblack would pick me up. I would arrive, request him in the lobby. Go up to his floor, and he would answer me in his robe with a “hey baby”. We shoot the shit for a bit. Or really it was him talking at me- usually stories of how he absolutely demolished an employee that had made a mistake that week. He would already be drunk and, upon my arrival, would take an edible. Once the chit-chat was over, he would lie down in his California king, dim the lights, and  finish doing the platter of drugs he had prepared himself, or if he was feeling so moved, he would snort lines off my ass cheeks. From there, I would  straddle him, strap him into the restraints that were on either side of the bed, blind fold him, and do my thing for an hour or so. Eventually I would feed him poppers- opening the tiny bottle for him as he twisted his head in either direction inhaling the  fumes. Then I would retrieve a black bag from his bedside table and take out his chic butt plug. Sterling silver. On insertion, I would ride him because although he was on multiple drugs, the butt plug helped him stay hard. Riding for hours, my legs would ache, calves would be sore but it was all worth it for the cash in the bathroom and the UberBlack rides home. Once our time was up, usually an Escalade would take me back to my apartment in Brooklyn, and I would stare into the dead streets of Chelsea feeling important. On weekends, when I saw young finance bros stumble between bars, I would think, “you want what i have.” So it wasn’t all bad. And he started to grow on me- a little more than I should have let him. 

On occasion, he would do molly and become such a sweetheart. Like one night, several months into our arrangement, he took molly and as he was peaking, he wanted me to take his blindfold off and just chat. 

“Tell me everything  I've done that’s hurt your feelings,” he said. 

I  chuckled because his request was a mindfuck of deciphering what was real and what was transactional. Do I tell him how I really feel? Or do I say nothing because my job is to be enjoyable and not challenging? This was just one example of our arrangement became a struggle because while I was providing a service, we were not a real couple. This was business. Supposedly. However, that night, I felt pulled to tell him the truth because in a lot of ways, he did feel like my boyfriend. 

So I told him, “when I brought my friend over for a threesome, you fucked her missionary and you’ve never done that with me. That really hurt me.” 

He nodded. “What else?”

 “You’ve made comments about my weight before, why would you do that?” He made something up.

It was nights like these that I would think, “wow he really does care for me. Maybe this has a future.”

We went from meeting at 10pm every Saturday night for sessions to meeting for a home-cooked meal at an appropriate hour. He cooked expensive meals like the type you cook when you have been together for awhile. Ribeye from the East Vil Meat Market with sauteed fresh vegetables. The dynamic changed. Instead of me doing all the work, I would sit down and he would do all the work. Dishes too. And then. we would eat Magnolia’s for dessert. It felt like we were a real couple. He would say things like: I’m trying to do less drugs. I am only going to drink wine. No more edibles. But once our dinner was over, he wanted hook up. Regular couples do that too but, the only way he knew how to be intimate was to be piss drunk, high, and blindfolded. And with a hooker no less. 

Our relationship  got even more slippery. He started to fantasize, “if we got married” or ”what if I got  you pregnant,” he would say. He was always intoxicated while saying these things but we spent so much time together. I started to seriously consider it.

 I thought that I would be taken care of if we got married. I could live out a childhood fantasy of living this super bougie lifestyle - like the ones you see in movies, in shows on HBO. I'd be one of those insufferable white women with a nanny, but I would never have to worry about paying rent again. Our marriage would of course be contingent on having a child together though. That was the real drawback. And deep down, I knew if I had his child, it would be a boy. And my client’s sociopathic genes would be passe down. I imagined loving our baby for a few years but then I would grow to resent him. Just like I did his father. My client would show me pictures of himself as a child and I would imagine those same demented black eyes coming out of me. And it really wouldn’t be my child in the end, but his. And he would probably grow up to hate me anyway. I started to catch myself in that spiral. And  I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I was supposed to act, to manipulate, to hustle clients. Especially ones like him. He deserved it. But he wasn’t the first one I began to like, and unfortunately, he wasn’t the last. 

That’s the thing about this work is that I let my relationships with clients turn into gray areas too quickly. I will see a man as a client and sort of “fall” for him and agree to go on dates without getting paid. Then I’ll start fucking them without getting paid. Then start I’ll loving them without getting paid. Then some time passes and all of the sudden, I have forgotten why it was that we met. I have forgotten the transaction- that it was supposed to be business. I am by no means against providers romantically committing to a client, it’s very common. I am not against it for myself either. But our arrangement ended before I could even make a decision about whether or not I wanted that.

It’s now been over a year since I've seen him. He ghosted me after a year and I think there were two big reasons. One- he had written me a  big check a few weeks before he stopped hitting  me up. I think that was to avoid the physical transaction in our hangouts. Like I guess to further tread into our relationship cosplay by hanging out without leaving me money in the bathroom. Like a real couple. But I asked for money too soon after he wrote me the check. I believe this upset him. Maybe it was too harsh of a reality check.  Two- maybe he too came to the conclusion that we were taking it too far. Or could have been neither of those things but I guess I’ll never know. Or maybe he found a real girlfriend but I honestly doubt it.

Honestly, it felt good to be his special girl. I still miss it. If he took it to the next level with, I would be the real life Vivan Ward. And isn’t that every working girl’s dream? He had been married before and often told me how much he paid her out when they divorced. I could be like her, I thought, I could get paid out if we were married long enough. Though it would be on the condition that I had his kid because what other reason would there be to marry me? But those dreams are long gone and Thank God. Being ghosted (that time) was a blessing. 

At the end of the day, this work can be so confusing. In lots of ways, it has changed the way my mind and body react to sex, romance, and attention. It has changed the way I receive affection, the way I do labor for others, the way that I communicate, and so on. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s possible to reverse the negative effects later on when I want to leave the industry. I’m curious about the ways that other providers deal with this. It’s embarrassing for me to admit this problem I have with clients to other workers. Last week, I nervously  opened up to my  co-worker that I yet again started seeing another client for free. She was understanding but still encouraged me not to do it. I asked her if she ever dates outside of

work and she said, “girl, if I have sex without getting paid, I feel dirty.” She’s a real one. I should try to be more like her.