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The goal of this new section is to normalize fat sex, love, dating, and everything in between. The other goal with sharing this story is to help destigmatize sex work.

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In many ways, I serve at her pleasure — for attention, romanceaffection. Her fulfillment.

Years 20

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I am also Indian-American. My parents left India for America in their mid-twenties to give their future children opportunities they themselves didn't have.

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Most days, I'm proud to be a second-generation American. I'm about to unapologetically become a single year-old, and not only is my biological clock screaming, so is my pushy extended family. And if you aren't looking for a partner, your parents might arrange one for you. But I'm single, a writer, and did I mention single?

I hired a male escort

So, when my cousin — who regularly chastises me and my penchant for dating unavailable people — invited me to his 27th birthday party, I hesitated at first, knowing I'd be mainly among couples. I wanted to bring a date with me to spite my cousin, but there was no one in sight: I am not dating anyone seriously, and the only friends I have are unavailable or uninterested.

I wanted to change the rules. I reached a point where I was so bored with my love life that I was willing to try anything. I could have gone on Tinder. I could have picked someone up at a bar my tried-and-true tactic.

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I could have even asked a friend to accompany me for the night — but those options would have been too easy. If I was going to do this, I wanted to take a risk. Yes, you read that correctly. I rented a gent.

Rent A Gent is a male escort service that "rents out" professional escorts for formal occasions. My first choice was a brown-haired escort with a man-bun, but he was unavailable. So Rent A Gent sent me my runner-up:. His name was Alec. He was a Mormon from Utah, and he'd come to New York to pursue modeling.

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Nearly a foot taller than me, he stood at an impressive 6 feet 5 inches and had the arms of an Olympic swimmer. He met me a block away from the restaurant, giving me just a minute to get him up to speed on my life. I told him I'm a journalist determined to write a good story, and fortunately, he didn't run for the George Washington bridge.

He was mine for an hour. We approached the curb outside the restaurant, where my cousin and his friends were already standing.

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I went down the line and introduced my date. They shook his hand in awe and approval. I giggled. I felt it like I was caught in a heat wave.

After taking our seats at the table, a steady stream of sangria began to flow. I scanned the room in search of clues that might have threatened my credibility: a snicker here, maybe a weird stare there. There were none. And then I realized something: My plan was actually working. Alec was humble but charming. He liked to surf, and he disliked TV, calling it "toxic. He helped me with my coat and with my consent, placed his hand on my leg every so often. I'll never know if he was genuinely a good guy or just a great actor, but it still felt nice to be treated like a lady.

I'd never fallen for a guy like Alec, but I found his lack of complication intriguing. His confession that he wanted to get married someday as we sat among many afraid-of-commitment millennials was refreshing.

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I don't know if it was the alcohol or the fact that he was unavailable, but I fell in love for the night. He had a point. Though, later on, our chemistry felt so natural that I forget I'd hired someone to pretend to love me.

Three glasses of wine into the night, I sat back in my chair full of tapas and happiness.

I was the envy of everyone in the room. Alec was the date everyone wanted to be with.

Every party guest wanted to be his friend. When the party died down, my cousin pulled me aside.

“i accidentally hired a male escort while in miami!”

There it was: the validation I'd always craved. It was ear candy. It was a kind of acceptance I'd never felt before, and its impermanence didn't detract from my satisfaction. I waved goodbye to my cousin's friends and grabbed my date's hand. He locked his fingers into mine; it felt nice. And though I didn't look back, I knew everyone watched us leave. For a second, I actually considered it.

The real (and unexpected) reason women hire male escorts

I mean, I had been having fun, and he was cute. But something told me that if I went home with him, I wouldn't forgive myself for the rest of eternity. He had stayed for a total of three hours; I didn't realize that until he said it. Phew, I thought, wiping dribbles of sweat from my forehead.

I hired a male escort to attend a dinner party here's what happened

All in all, I had a fantastic evening. I ate good food and learned that my heart is resilient, even after enduring insufferable heartbreak. Now, a week later, I find myself missing the idea of my date more than I miss my actual escort. Y'know, those little things — calling me "babe," eating off my plate. Was it nice having a pretend partner for the night? You betcha. Will I ever rent a gent again? Probably not. This post was originally published on Sept. It was updated on Sept. By Sheena Sharma. My name is Sheena. I am a year-old woman who is perpetually single.