johnny9fingers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
johnny9fingers) wrote2012-06-13 04:20 pm
johnny9fingers) wrote2012-06-13 04:20 pm
Entry tags:
Felix, update....
Lunch today with Poor Mad Felix.
On the drive down he mentioned that had had joined an agency for male escorts. Now Felix is my age (50+/-) and has not weathered as well as some of the rest of us. This started alarm bells ringing. He veered between asking for advice on how best to present himself, and gleefully imagining what he'd do with the money he was going to earn.
I didn't swerve off the road.
He then opined that the £300 he had given the agency as registration fee was money well spent, as he had his first date on Saturday, and should make his money back in a couple of weekends.
Still I didn't swerve off the road. In fact I didn't make obvious what I thought in any way. However, I did advise him that perhaps he, like me, was a trifle old for such employment, and maybe most lonely women of means might prefer a chap younger and more vigorous, and perhaps less in need of Viagra than either of us, and possibly he should think about de-registering and asking for a refund: which he ignored, as you would.
He then went on to speak of his previous abilities as connoisseur of fine wine and how he would impress the ladies with his knowledge and good taste.
What does one do in such circumstances? I found myself struck dumb, simultaneously wondering if I could get his money returned to him. Apparently he found an advert in a magazine and responded to it. If the agency is real then his first client is, er, going to have to have quite specialist taste in her requirements for male companions.
I am at a loss, and I don't know how to intervene: or even if intervention is possible at all?
The rest of the meal was a monologue dealing with the inadequacies of politicians; an extremely eccentric if not downright mad view of the British Constitution; and more advice-seeking about whether leather jackets could be included in the dress-code known as "smart casual". We both agreed on Chelsea boots, but I nixed the leather jacket. As for politics, it's more rewarding debating with Jeff in one of his most intransigent moods than it is with Felix: so I kept my counsel, as the saying goes.
Also, he said his cleaner is staying in his flat on the sofa for half the week. There was more, but I got distracted by head 'splody.
On the drive down he mentioned that had had joined an agency for male escorts. Now Felix is my age (50+/-) and has not weathered as well as some of the rest of us. This started alarm bells ringing. He veered between asking for advice on how best to present himself, and gleefully imagining what he'd do with the money he was going to earn.
I didn't swerve off the road.
He then opined that the £300 he had given the agency as registration fee was money well spent, as he had his first date on Saturday, and should make his money back in a couple of weekends.
Still I didn't swerve off the road. In fact I didn't make obvious what I thought in any way. However, I did advise him that perhaps he, like me, was a trifle old for such employment, and maybe most lonely women of means might prefer a chap younger and more vigorous, and perhaps less in need of Viagra than either of us, and possibly he should think about de-registering and asking for a refund: which he ignored, as you would.
He then went on to speak of his previous abilities as connoisseur of fine wine and how he would impress the ladies with his knowledge and good taste.
What does one do in such circumstances? I found myself struck dumb, simultaneously wondering if I could get his money returned to him. Apparently he found an advert in a magazine and responded to it. If the agency is real then his first client is, er, going to have to have quite specialist taste in her requirements for male companions.
I am at a loss, and I don't know how to intervene: or even if intervention is possible at all?
The rest of the meal was a monologue dealing with the inadequacies of politicians; an extremely eccentric if not downright mad view of the British Constitution; and more advice-seeking about whether leather jackets could be included in the dress-code known as "smart casual". We both agreed on Chelsea boots, but I nixed the leather jacket. As for politics, it's more rewarding debating with Jeff in one of his most intransigent moods than it is with Felix: so I kept my counsel, as the saying goes.
Also, he said his cleaner is staying in his flat on the sofa for half the week. There was more, but I got distracted by head 'splody.
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