I made a terrible fucking decision this week. I went onto Reddit.
Now, going onto Reddit is already the internet equivalent of licking a handrail at Perth Station. You know there’s probably something useful there, but spend enough time looking around and you’re bound to encounter something that makes you question whether humanity deserves electricity.
I was looking for some of the strangest things sex workers had been paid to do. I expected the usual stuff. Feet, stockings, strange outfits, perhaps some bloke dressed as Darth Vader wanting to be spanked with a lightsaber.
Instead, I discovered that when some men finally get the opportunity to indulge their wildest sexual fantasies, they decide to do absolutely everything except fuck.
And apparently, some of these fantasies involve groceries.
One woman on an AskReddit thread described a customer who turned up with queso cheese and wanted it rubbed over her breasts so he could lick it off.
All right. Fair enough. I’m not judging.
Actually, I’m judging quite heavily, but let’s continue.
Because old mate wasn’t finished.
Next came salsa, coriander, lettuce and finally fucking beef.
At this point, sir, you are no longer having sex. You are catering.
The woman described the result as essentially turning her breasts into a Chipotle bowl.
I had to think about this for a moment.
Just imagine the preparation involved. Somewhere, hours earlier, a grown man was wandering around a supermarket holding a packet of shredded lettuce, thinking to himself, Yep. This is exactly what tonight needs.
I’ve walked into Coles and forgotten what I went there for. This cunt apparently arrived at his appointment with a complete Mexican degustation menu.
And coriander? Really? Of all the things you could possibly add to a pair of breasts, you decide the missing ingredient is fucking coriander?
I was laughing about that when I made the mistake of reading further.
Another account involved a customer whose particular interest was watching a woman inflate balloons.
That’s it. Balloons.
The story went that the working lady had a booking before meeting a friend for coffee. Her friend expected her to be late, but she turned up on time because the customer apparently just wanted to watch her blow up a balloon.
I keep imagining the appointment.
The lady gets ready, the customer arrives, and she’s probably wondering what he’s going to ask for. Then he reaches into his bag.
Now, depending on what industry you’re in, a bloke reaching into his bag could mean absolutely anything.
Out comes a balloon.
Not a condom. Not some terrifying piece of equipment requiring batteries and a safety briefing.
A fucking balloon.
And apparently, that’s what does it for him.
I wonder whether he has a preference for colours. Does a red balloon do something a blue one doesn’t? Does he like them fully inflated, or is he more of a halfway-through kind of bloke?
Actually, forget I asked. I don’t think I want the answers.
Then there was a story about a man whose mates had organised a sex worker for him during a stag trip.
He wasn’t interested in having sex, but the time had already been paid for. So, according to the story, they ended up watching Netflix and playing Uno.
I actually respect this magnificent bastard.
His mates arrange for him to spend time with a beautiful woman, and what does he do?
Uno.
I can just imagine him looking deeply into her eyes, the sexual tension building, before leaning forward and whispering:
“Draw four, motherfucker.”
I don’t know why that one made me laugh so much. Maybe because I’ve played enough Uno to know that being hit with a Draw Four can be considerably more upsetting than sexual rejection.
The more I read, the more I realised that I’ve probably been thinking about these bookings all wrong.
Here I was assuming that people paying for a sexual experience would generally want something sexual.
Silly me.
Some want company. Some want to play games. Some have very specific interests that probably make perfect sense to them and absolutely nobody else.
And somewhere out there is a man who apparently looks at a beautiful pair of breasts and thinks, You know what would improve those? Beef.
I wonder what he’d say if he was asked about his turn-ons on a first date.
“Do you like stockings?”
“No.”
“Leather?”
“Not really.”
“Role-play?”
“Have you got any sour cream?”
At that point, mate, you don’t need Tinder. You need Guzman y Gomez.
I eventually stopped reading. Not because I was offended, but because I was genuinely worried about what I might find next.
And look, these are Reddit stories. I haven’t personally witnessed any of this. For all I know, somebody made up the entire Mexican experience while eating lunch. But considering some of the things people get up to, I’m not prepared to rule it out either.
What I really want to know now is what the working ladies here have encountered.
Not necessarily anything sexual. I’m talking about the genuinely strange requests that made you stop for a moment and think, What the fuck?
And for the punters, have you ever booked someone and ended up doing something completely different from what you’d originally intended?
No names or identifying details, obviously.
I’m particularly interested in hearing whether anything this ridiculous has happened here in Perth.
And if any of you have ever turned up to a booking with beef and coriander, I have several questions.
Now, going onto Reddit is already the internet equivalent of licking a handrail at Perth Station. You know there’s probably something useful there, but spend enough time looking around and you’re bound to encounter something that makes you question whether humanity deserves electricity.
I was looking for some of the strangest things sex workers had been paid to do. I expected the usual stuff. Feet, stockings, strange outfits, perhaps some bloke dressed as Darth Vader wanting to be spanked with a lightsaber.
Instead, I discovered that when some men finally get the opportunity to indulge their wildest sexual fantasies, they decide to do absolutely everything except fuck.
And apparently, some of these fantasies involve groceries.
One woman on an AskReddit thread described a customer who turned up with queso cheese and wanted it rubbed over her breasts so he could lick it off.
All right. Fair enough. I’m not judging.
Actually, I’m judging quite heavily, but let’s continue.
Because old mate wasn’t finished.
Next came salsa, coriander, lettuce and finally fucking beef.
At this point, sir, you are no longer having sex. You are catering.
The woman described the result as essentially turning her breasts into a Chipotle bowl.
I had to think about this for a moment.
Just imagine the preparation involved. Somewhere, hours earlier, a grown man was wandering around a supermarket holding a packet of shredded lettuce, thinking to himself, Yep. This is exactly what tonight needs.
I’ve walked into Coles and forgotten what I went there for. This cunt apparently arrived at his appointment with a complete Mexican degustation menu.
And coriander? Really? Of all the things you could possibly add to a pair of breasts, you decide the missing ingredient is fucking coriander?
I was laughing about that when I made the mistake of reading further.
Another account involved a customer whose particular interest was watching a woman inflate balloons.
That’s it. Balloons.
The story went that the working lady had a booking before meeting a friend for coffee. Her friend expected her to be late, but she turned up on time because the customer apparently just wanted to watch her blow up a balloon.
I keep imagining the appointment.
The lady gets ready, the customer arrives, and she’s probably wondering what he’s going to ask for. Then he reaches into his bag.
Now, depending on what industry you’re in, a bloke reaching into his bag could mean absolutely anything.
Out comes a balloon.
Not a condom. Not some terrifying piece of equipment requiring batteries and a safety briefing.
A fucking balloon.
And apparently, that’s what does it for him.
I wonder whether he has a preference for colours. Does a red balloon do something a blue one doesn’t? Does he like them fully inflated, or is he more of a halfway-through kind of bloke?
Actually, forget I asked. I don’t think I want the answers.
Then there was a story about a man whose mates had organised a sex worker for him during a stag trip.
He wasn’t interested in having sex, but the time had already been paid for. So, according to the story, they ended up watching Netflix and playing Uno.
I actually respect this magnificent bastard.
His mates arrange for him to spend time with a beautiful woman, and what does he do?
Uno.
I can just imagine him looking deeply into her eyes, the sexual tension building, before leaning forward and whispering:
“Draw four, motherfucker.”
I don’t know why that one made me laugh so much. Maybe because I’ve played enough Uno to know that being hit with a Draw Four can be considerably more upsetting than sexual rejection.
The more I read, the more I realised that I’ve probably been thinking about these bookings all wrong.
Here I was assuming that people paying for a sexual experience would generally want something sexual.
Silly me.
Some want company. Some want to play games. Some have very specific interests that probably make perfect sense to them and absolutely nobody else.
And somewhere out there is a man who apparently looks at a beautiful pair of breasts and thinks, You know what would improve those? Beef.
I wonder what he’d say if he was asked about his turn-ons on a first date.
“Do you like stockings?”
“No.”
“Leather?”
“Not really.”
“Role-play?”
“Have you got any sour cream?”
At that point, mate, you don’t need Tinder. You need Guzman y Gomez.
I eventually stopped reading. Not because I was offended, but because I was genuinely worried about what I might find next.
And look, these are Reddit stories. I haven’t personally witnessed any of this. For all I know, somebody made up the entire Mexican experience while eating lunch. But considering some of the things people get up to, I’m not prepared to rule it out either.
What I really want to know now is what the working ladies here have encountered.
Not necessarily anything sexual. I’m talking about the genuinely strange requests that made you stop for a moment and think, What the fuck?
And for the punters, have you ever booked someone and ended up doing something completely different from what you’d originally intended?
No names or identifying details, obviously.
I’m particularly interested in hearing whether anything this ridiculous has happened here in Perth.
And if any of you have ever turned up to a booking with beef and coriander, I have several questions.
