“So, you’re ready to hire a whore!”

The Holiday of Love has once again arrived, and though your heart yearns to spend a cuddlesome evening by the fire, where the sweet nothings exchanged are only a prelude to the hot, lubricated passion on the bearskin rug; in which you and your beloved will out-bonobo Casanova and his Top Five in the space of the mere hour betwixt the children’s bedtime and the moment you drop from the exhaustion of yet another thankless work day in which your dignity (not to mention your libido) has been crushed beneath the knock-off-of-a-knock-off-Prada snow boot of your whiny, undeserving boss and the meaningless chatter of your fellow drones; you are in fact more likely to spend it wishing you had bought – or been given – a nicer/more expensive/more appropriate present, then dropping off after a half-hearted mounting attempt during which you actually pictured Pamela Anderson, Yasmin Bleeth, and for some of us, Eddie Izzard, in a vain attempt to get off a medium-sized one instead of one just good enough to stop.

Gentle Readers, for those hunting for an alternative way to spend this, most over-marketed of holy days, I present:

A Primer on Negotiable Affection, in Honour of St. Valentine’s Day

Option A
You cruise the streets in the seediest area of town and pick up a hitchhiker who offers to suck you off for $50. You bargain her down to 40, then when she passes out you bareback her and leave her at the next gas station. Later, you develop an oozing sore on the side of your scrotum that just won’t go away.

Option B
You approach a likely lady in a hotel bar – short skirt, lots of makeup, stiletto heels. Her boyfriend, Vito, appears from the men’s room just as you think you’re about to close the deal. Cost of setting broken nose – about $475.

Option C
You browse websites or social sites dedicated to ‘the hobby’ and pick out a lady you like. Maybe her pictures are great, maybe she’s gotten great reviews. That’s right, reviews. Other gentlemen she has seen have posted information about their time with her, how much they paid, whether she tried to upsell you for additional services, looked like her pictures, showed up on time, seemed clean and sober, was a C&D (Cash-and-Dash), right down to how much makeup and perfume she wore and whether she had stubble. Not only do you know more about what you’re getting, you know that other fellows have seen her and she didn’t arrest them, impound their car and add their mug shot to an embarrassing website that will cause your co-workers to abruptly stop talking each time you approach the break room.

Her website says call her with your references (What is this, a job interview?). You give her the names and contact information of other ladies you’ve seen (usually three). Now it’s her turn to research. She calls or emails the ladies with your information – usually a physical description, your phone number, email and internet handle, plus the info you gave her about when and where you saw the lady she’s calling.

“Great time at the Comfort Inn! She’ll remember my enormous Manhood! It was the biggest she’d ever seen!”

The ladies try to remember you: “Let’s see, balding, paunchy, middle-aged, Comfort Inn near the airport, I told him he had a big one...can you be more specific?”

They note whether you smelled nice, paid in full, had bad stubble (works both ways, buddy, ask me about my beard burn) wanted more than one shot, and were easy to get off. Most importantly, they’ll tell whether you were a NC/NS (No-Call-No-Show), a tipper, or an asshole.

You and the lady confirm by phone an hour or two before your appointment. You arrive, check out the room to make sure there’s no friends hiding in the closet and lock the door – or she does if it’s at your room. She wants her money up front, on the table, and without talking to her about it. If she’s smart or doesn’t trust you, she discreetly counts it and hides it. You chat. You ‘get comfortable’. You both watch the clock while trying not to get caught watching the clock, and you leave with a hug when the time is up. She emails you to say she had a nice time and she hopes to see you again. You spend the next week and a half pestering her with text messages, emails and voice mails, until you realize time is money and she wants you to book before she talks to you again.

Behind the scenes...the very smartest girls also search your name on the hobbyist boards, checking to see if you post mean reviews or racist comments. They’ll check the lists of “Good Boys” and “Bad Boys” posted in the deny-it-exists Ladies-Only area (I suspect the men have similar lists in their private area). They’ll find out if you have a rep for seeing streetwalkers, if you’ve bragged about barebacking, if you shorted the fee, and if you were dumb enough to mention any of these things on other boards.

It’s not all that safe – but hey, Ebay taught us we can trust a million strangers based on their feedback from other strangers. So why not in this venue, too?

Gentle Readers in “the hobby,” I welcome your thoughts on anything I’ve left out.

As for me, I'm spending Valentine's with Husband (when he gets home from work), pizza and cupcakes. Meanwhile I'm wading through pm's and e-cards from clients, and sending out a few myself (go, marketing!). Lover is far away, and he knows better than to try to celebrate this particular holiday with me.

Wish he didn't.