Mitch Larrson, 46, shares his story with Take 5…
I looked over my wife’s shoulders anxiously as she put the finishing touches to my profile.
“So, what do you think?” I asked as she sat back.
She turned to me, with a playful grin.
“I’d sleep with you,” she cheekily said.
It was 2019 and, with the full support of this woman, who I’d been married to for nine years and had a four-year-old child with, I was about to enter the world of male escorting, aged 41.
I’d been a stay-at-home dad, as my wife, a doctor, was the higher earner.
Frustrated and bored, I was ready to start making money again, but felt too far from the lawyer I’d been before my son was born.
The idea of escorting came to me after my wife agreed to open up our marriage to other people.
The topic had arisen after she’d found inappropriate texts to another mum at our son’s playgroup, and even though I hadn’t done anything physical with this woman, it made me confess my desire to have sex with other people.
“If it’s going to save our marriage, let’s do it,” she agreed.
Me and my newborn son. (Image: Supplied)
At first, I went on Tinder before the idea of making money from sex occurred to me.
Surprisingly, my wife seemed more on board with paid sex than casual encounters.
So here we were, as a couple, deciding the best pictures to use to make me appeal to other women. My wife had shot them using one of the professional cameras I used as a hobby.
When my first booking came in a few weeks later, she helped me pick out what to wear – pale chinos, a well-cut shirt and a dark blazer – before we put our son to bed and I kissed her bye.
“I love you,” I told her.
On the drive over to the address of the motel I’d been given, pangs of guilt stabbed my gut each time I thought about her at home.
An hour later, I parked outside the motel and knocked on the door of my first-ever client.
My wife shot all the photos on my escort profile. (Image: Supplied)
When a rather beautiful 30-year-old brunette answered, excitement began to overtake my nerves.
At least I don’t have to fake attraction, I thought.
She was visibly shaking and clearly more nervous than me.
“Hi,” I smiled, opening my arms to her.
Shyly, she walked into them, and I held her for several minutes, stroking her hair.
“Would you like me to kiss you?” I asked releasing her.
“Oh, okay,” she squeaked.
Things from there moved quickly.
Once she was satisfied, I held her as we talked.
She told me her friends had booked me to help her get back into dating.
“I was with my ex for years,” she said. “He broke my heart by sleeping with someone else.”
She craved intimacy, but the pain she’d suffered made her reluctant to put herself out there again, especially as her self-esteem had taken a hit.
I was very in demand. (Image: Supplied)
Over time, I began to realise most women who booked me had suffered emotionally and used escorting to help build themselves up again.
Some were newly divorced and hadn’t had sex for years. Others were still married, but it was either loveless or their husbands no longer had the ability to perform.
Sadly, I lost count of the number of women who had suffered sexual abuse or domestic violence. They struggled to trust anyone but a paid professional where they could control the environment.
On one occasion, I was even booked by a husband, as a gift for his wife, but that was the last time I ever took on any surprise bookings.
When I knocked on the door and explained who I was, a look of sheer horror spread across her face.
Her husband had clearly got things very wrong.
“So sorry, I’ll go,” I said, making a hasty retreat.
My wife shot all the photos on my escort profile. (Image: Supplied)
But there was one client that really stuck with me.
Her name was Sam and she’d been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, shortly after separating from her ex-husband.
Knowing she only had two to five years to live, she saw dating as pointless, but still wanting intimacy she’d decided to go down the route of an escort for companionship, booking a couple of times a week.
Over the years, Sam and I formed a strong bond, and I couldn’t help but develop an affection for her.
As an escort, you’re not meant to allow yourself to become attached, which sometimes isn’t possible.
When Sam’s illness developed to the point she needed full-time care, our visits stopped, and to this day I don’t know if she’s dead or alive, which cuts me deeply.
There were extreme highs during my time as a male escort, but there were also extreme lows. My marriage failing was another one.
After six months, what had meant to be a side hustle, morphed me into becoming one of the most in-demand male escorts around and I was working at least three times a week.
At first, I offered one-hour appointments at $300, but I realised the time was too rushed so increased the booking time to two hours minimum.
Even when I was home, I was absent, spending time messaging my clients, so eventually, after a year, my wife and I agreed it was time for me to move out.
On a trip to Italy. (Image: Supplied)
Fortunately, we were able to remain good friends, and we’re united as parents to give our son the best life that we can.
While I was an escort, I wrestled with the question of whether I could be a good parent and a sex worker at the same time.
Though I was present in his life, I worried about what I’d say when my son started asking me questions about what I did.
Earlier this year, I finally left the sex industry after four years. It was difficult, but knowing I’d provided the best service I could and helped so many women, made it easier.
Now, I want to use my experience to guide and educate the next generation of men. Most importantly, my son.
Time for Her by Mitch Larrson, beyouagain.com.au (Image: Supplied)
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