Dear Alexa
I know you read these reviews. You are a charming and skilled service provider, and I can’t wait to get inside your knickers again.
But on Saturday you made me thrash through the pouring rain from Central London, and then at three minutes past our agreed appointment time, you sent me the dreaded ‘Sorry, darling, I’m busy. Would you like to see my friend?’ text.
Previous to that, I had spent 10 minutes loitering on a deserted Hounslow High Street – Hounslow is a total craphole, by the way – flinching at the youths in the shadows, clutching my man bag close to my middle class chest, terrified that I was about to be mugged/stabbed/molested. Or all three at once.
Actually, I was rather hoping to be molested on Hounslow High Street, Alexa, but by you.
All told, this was a pretty grim experience, Alexa. Grim. And leaving Hounslow with the raging horn is not something that any man wants to have to go through again.
Now - I am told it is the prerogative of a woman to change her mind; and last time I saw you I had a wonderful time. And god knows, the life of a young EE working girl in Hounslow must be chaotic and a bit bonkers. And yes, I committed the cardinal sin of not having at least one back up option in the area.
So - I plan to try and see you again on Saturday. Please, please put a big note in your diary to this effect. Resist the hordes of cab drivers, double glazing salesmen, and football managers who press for last minute appointments. I’ll be scared-but-randy looking chap opposite Primark, if you are looking out the window at around 7.30pm?
With my very best wishes.
P.
External Link/Members OnlyExternal Link/Members Only(and to my fellow UKP swordsmen - yes, obviously this experience ought to merit a big, fat, red negative rating. but she is a sweetie. and i am a fluffy. go figure)