Whatever man first said, "It's better to get pissed off than pissed on," and thought himself ever-so-witty, had clearly never met some of the guys that call me.
Caller: How much do you charge for golden showers?
I think this guy has mistaken me for an a la carte menu. In fact, I have a feeling he's hoping he's at McDonalds. He's wrong on both counts.
Me: I do not charge per activity. I charge a per-hour fee for my professional time, regardless of what kind of scene I'm doing.
Caller: Oh. Well, what's your fee per hour?
Me: Two hundred and fifty dollars.
Caller: Oooo. That's kinda steep, isn't it?
It's not – it's exactly the same as everyone in town has been charging for some time. (Although I did notice lately that there's a newcomer charging three hundred. More power to her, if she's getting it.) Of course, he might also just mean "steep" relative to his discretionary income, which would be a not-my-dog situation. Either way, one always wonders how guys who say this think I might respond to such a remark. "Oh, do you think so? Tell me, dear man, how much would you like to pay me?" Surely, surely not. So I just say…
Me: Did you have any other questions I can answer for you?
Caller: Do you do fifteen-minute sessions?
Oh man. I get requests for half-hour sessions, and that's bad enough. But fifteen minutes? What the fuck does he think this is, a chair massage at an airport?
Caller: But, I mean – you can't really pee for a whole hour, anyway. Can you?
I swear to god that's what he said. And there was the faintest little breath of crazy, I-know-it-can't-really-be-true-but-I'll-ask-anyway kind of hope in those final two words. I was so incredibly tempted to say "Oh, yeah! Sure I can." Just because then the little piss slut would be jerking off in a frenzy for the rest of his life, thinking about a woman who an hour-long bladder. A woman, I might add, that he'd never, ever get to meet. The torture of it!
But he'd never stop calling me. So instead I say…
Me: I think we're through talking now. Goodbye….
Piss off, indeed…