I will not name names, but if any of the people I’m addressing in the following should happen to read this post, they will presumably know who they are.

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Dear H.,

My first ever kaufmich date was with you, and for that reason alone, I’ll never forget you. It wasn’t your fault that we had no chemistry with each other at all... though it wasn’t mine either. I still wonder what on earth you were thinking when you asked if I wanted that we write reviews for each other. I think we both understood, in our hearts, that it would be better not to.

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Dear J. and L.,

You two are the reason why I spent about a year of my life believing that threesomes are lame. You do realize that the job of an escort – at least at the rates that you charge – normally involves more than just being pretty and willing and letting the client do whatever, right?

Are you aware, J., that the words “Möchtest du ein Blowjob?” don’t actually sound all that seductive?

And L., about that night, several weeks later, when you chatted at me with such poetic language: "Hi babe how are uuu... im with a girlfriend hihi..." Were you surprised that I didn’t find this invitation enticing?

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Dear E.,

We never actually met. It was shaping up to be a great date, but you cancelled two hours ahead of time, and sent me nine chat messages to explain why. You wrote, "I am certainly NOT a human that is into cancel culture and yet here I am". I learned of the cancellation and saw your messages right after checking in and paying for the hotel room, but that’s OK… I understand that you were going through some difficult stuff in your personal life right then. These things happen. I would have replied and written something sympathetic, but I couldn’t, because you’d blocked me. That seemed an odd choice.

After all these months, there’s just one thing I still need to tell you. This is important, please pay attention:

*ahem*

The term “cancel culture” doesn’t mean what you seem to think it means.

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Dear A.,

Escort dates are not the same thing as Tinder dates. When you are advertising your services as an escort, you are expected to bring the condoms. Every other escort I’ve ever met has known this.

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Dear C.,

You met me when I had recently been in a minor traffic accident. It was good of you to ask whether there was anywhere that you should avoid touching me; I mentioned my knees, because my knees were pretty banged up.

You asked, and yet the answer had no apparent impact on your actions. Thus I learned something that I had never known before, and had never even thought to wonder about: some people automatically touch their partner’s knees during sex. It’s like a reflex, it can’t be stopped.

Ouch.

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Dear V.,

The pictures on your profile gave the impression that you never smile, yet I learned upon meeting you that this impression was false. Smiling is good, laughing is good... unfortunately, I also learned that there was metal visible in your teeth, which was a bit off-putting, if I’m honest... and I wish I’d known it before meeting you. I suddenly understood why none of the pictures on your profile showed you smiling.

Please be aware, moreover, that whatever product you use for freshening your breath after you smoke: I’m afraid it doesn’t work.

Also: I do appreciate open and honest communication... but maybe you should make some effort not to offend the person you’ve just met? Maybe you shouldn’t express such condescension toward hard-working escorts who are employed by agencies and therefore have to register? (Pro tip, V.: I know you find it awesome that you can get paid for sleeping around, but if you’re going to do that, then by law, yes, you also have to register. What you’re doing is illegal.)

And what on God’s green Earth made you think, as you were walking out the door, that I would be interested in your opinion on who I should or should not be in love with?

My verdict remains that it would have been a good date if I’d been the one getting paid for it.