Why the hell did I leave the gigolo business?
Today’s guest post is by investigative reporter Jock Stewart who is headquartered in Junction City, Texas with the Star-Gazer News Service.
God knows, the pay was good and so were the benefits.
But a guy gets old after a while and that makes it hard to keep up with people who are playing music by bands he’s never heard of. When you’re old, you can’t imagine a woman with a tattoo. My tattoo is an anchor that got plastered onto my arm one night when I was drunk on liberty in the Philippines and woke up with a sore arm. But women, what’s with all that ugly ink? Those looking for gigolos today want the young, the restless and the shallow. If you read books, keep it quiet.
I could tell you stories.
However, that would get me in trouble with the Federal Gigolo Commission (FGC) which ensures that nobody sues nobody and that nobody writes a tell-all novel about a famous person after the sweet nothings have faded away.
So now I’m a writer and let me tell you a secret about that. There’s nothing but the poor house for you there. I don’t know why so many people are rushing out to self-publish because unless they’re willing to get sued by the FGC, there’s zero dollars to be made. I “dated” a lot of famous writers back in the day and they stole most of their story lines from me. They got rich while I went back to my apartment and ate mac and cheese while watching Gunsmoke re-runs.
I’ve given up Gunsmoke because–quite frankly–Kitty reminds me of two many people I knew in the biz. They said they cared, but then when it came to settling down with “Mr. Right,” they were always looking for greener pastures on the far side of the hill. (If you’re old enough to know the New Christie Minstrels song “Green Green,” then you know why I’m too old to be in the gigolo business any more.)
If you’re young, the gigolo business probably looks good, exciting even, living out of 5-star hotels around the world, escorting the most beautiful women in the world, wearing the best clothes. . .
But then one day, people start saying, you’re putting on weight, not keeping yourself as fit as you used to, and then there’s nothing left to do but go into the writing business. So now my life is filled with reporting the exploits of the local garden club and filing updates with the Associated Press about people who are flat nuts.
This is a cautionary post. If you’re in the gigolo business, join the union and pay your dues so that when your put out to pasture, you have a pension with plenty of good health insurance coverage and a free Netflix subscription. Anything less than that, and you’ll end up with nothing to say grace over in your old age.