Category Archives: Uncategorised

I booked an escort

Earlier this year I got into a huge debate during a photoshoot with an escort. It started when she asked if I had ever booked an escort before, and when I said no, I hadn’t, she asked why, and when I tried to explain why she raged and by the end of our heated discussion and shoot she insisted that she book me an escort (she even insisted that she would pay for the experience!).

What was my why? Well I’m a bit foggy on exactly what I said, but I’m pretty sure I said a few of the following things; that I’ve never felt I needed to, that when I was younger my friends would go to brothels together but I’d never join them in fear of catching an STD, that I wasn’t cool with married men booking escorts and that one of my best friends is an escort so I know what it’s all about.

She hammered me, suggesting that I was disrespecting sex workers, that I thought I was better than sex workers and their clients, and ultimately, that I wasn’t experienced… And BAM! That got me, that fucked me up as I’m a huge advocate for being experienced. Whilst I disagree that not booking an escort because I’ve never felt the need to means I’m disrespecting escorts, speaking from experience and about experiences is at the base of everything I do so it wasn’t something I could argue.

Let’s just say she planted a seed.

Earlier this month I hopped on an escort listing site and started browsing profiles. OMFG. It felt like window shopping. There were way too many women to choose from, women of all ages and all races. Most of the escorts had their faces blurred out which made me feel like I was body shopping, the thing is, most of the photos I saw were highly edited which made me feel a little nervous. Before too long I found myself much more at ease with profiles of escorts who actually showed their faces as I felt that they were owning it, that they felt more real.

I was having an internal battle between trying to choose an escort I would have a connection with, or choosing an escort that portrays my fantasy woman. I ended up short listing a few girls; some had amazing bodies, some had amazing faces, some had well written profiles (some had not so well written profiles!) but in the end I chose a girl who had a really nice smile.

OK, so I needed to send her an SMS. Fuck this was harder than I thought. What do I write? Do I tell her my age? Do I tell her that I’ve never booked an escort before? Do I give her my entire life story?! In the end I kept it really short and punchy. Hi, something about the warmer weather, wondering if she was available for a booking this weekend, kind regards Justin.

She replied! She was fun and flirty, we locked in a date and I paid her a deposit. The days leading up to the date I got more and more nervous, so nervous that I started breaking out with zits on my face (FFS!). On the morning of our booking she called me, she was crying and told me that she just got some news which totally fucked up her day. Damn! She was really sorry and wanted to refund my deposit. Hey shit happens, right? On the one hand I was crushed and felt that all the nervous energy I’d racked up over the past few days was for nothing, but at the same time I felt for whatever it is she was going through too so I told her to keep the deposit and to get back to me when she felt better.

I felt rejected. Extremely frustrated. I drank a whole bottle of wine to myself that night. I felt like it was a sign and that this wasn’t meant to be.

A few days later she messaged me, apologised again, and we got back to fun and flirty messages. We locked in another date and the whole nerve-racking build up started all over again.

I booked an outcall so on the day of the booking I felt like Tom Cruise in Risky Business (where he waited an eternity for an escort to show up). Every minute felt like an hour. When the doorbell rang I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t help but think of the situation she would be in, not knowing who I was, what I looked like and all the risks involved (I know escorts who insist on hotels as at least they have surveillance cameras and emergency buttons on bedside phones), but as soon as she saw my lounge room she knew who I was, my photography and the other escorts I shoot with. My cover was blown!

In some ways her knowing of me wasn’t a bad thing for either of us. We sat and talked for what felt like ages and then we did the thing.

So was it what I expected? Well I didn’t really know what to expect so I’m not so sure. Was it fun? Yes. Was it worth the money? Yes. I booked her for an hour but we talked for an hour before doing it, then we talked for an hour after so she gave me three hours in total which I’m grateful for. Am I worried I caught an STD? Not really, she was really safe. Am I OK with married men booking escorts? Not really, but I’m not so black and white about it anymore now. It’s complicated. Do I think differently about escorts now that I had booked one? Yeah, for sure. In some ways I feel a bit of relief, like I ticked a box, or achieved a goal on my bucket list but I also can’t quite shake the risks involved for an escort in meeting new clients. Sure, being good at screening would help, but I still worry about my escort friends. Would I book her again or would I book another escort in future? Probably not, but I’m not saying never.

Overall I feel that a stronger connection was what was missing from the experience. I’ve gone for dates with a few women that I met on Tinder that I had really strong life connections with, but not so strong physical connections, and I find this experience similar.

It’s now been three weeks since the booking. We’ve not talked at all since, but I still get (very visual!) flashes from the experience from time to time and when I do it feels… for a better word, good?! It’s definitely something not nothing and might just be the addicting factor for many men who book escorts, but hey, end of the day I’m hyper aware that one experience doesn’t mean I’m experienced. I’m now in discussions with one of my close escort friends about creating a short viral video project about escorting, not to find answers, more to ask questions. More on this project soon!

PS: If you find this hard to read due to the small type I’ve also published it on Medium: https://medium.com/@justinfox_30083/i-booked-an-escort-3d35b406c792

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Viv on The Rocks

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Some outdoor fun with this one!!! Cheeky uncensored photos on my Patreon as always: https://www.patreon.com/justinfoxphoto

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Greta Thunberg

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“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”

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Fundraiser for Sean Torstensson

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I’ve been good friends with Sean for over 20 years. He has MS, and sadly, over the years it’s gotten worse. The last time I caught up with him was earlier this year in February and I was taken aback at just how much it’s affected him. We went for a walk down to the rock pool and he had a hard time balancing on the rocks, there was also a school of dolphins playing near the pool and he couldn’t see them.

Since then he’s been trying to raise money for treatment. Initially he got caught up in an online gambling scam (trying to raise funds) and no matter how hard I tried to convince him that it was a scam, he wouldn’t listen (which really broke my heart), but I’ve still been keeping tabs of his progress, and he’s now started a gofundme fundraiser in order to raise the funds.

He’s assured me that none of this money being raised on his gofundme page will be going into the scam, so I’m happy to share his fundraising page (link below). I know “spare change” doesn’t exist, but I’m assuming some of you on my friends list also share Sean as a friend, and some of you that might not know him have big hearts.

He’s a great guy, and I’m sure he’d really appreciate your support: https://www.gofundme.com/f/lets-keep-sean-torstensson-up-and-dancing?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet

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Fucking Finally! Free Shipping!

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Alternate flyer designs.

Yup, I’ve gone and done it, FINALLY! ZEN is now offering free shipping on all orders Australia wide and International orders too. #feelsgoodman

It’s never been about making money. I care much more for the right people wearing the brand, and you’ve got to admit… adding things to a cart, then seeing a large shipping fee just puts you off, right?! So fuck it, free shipping it is!

I’ve also spent a bit of time in the Shopify backend to get rid of all the marketing and sales gloat (still a work in progress!). I’ve removed the need for minimal orders in order to qualify for free shipping, I’ve deleted a bunch of social media icons, share and pinit functions. I’ve removed the review system and push to sale overlays. I’ve yet to get around to removing afterpay and messenger chat but I’m on it!

Pack and send at the ready, ZEN is rolling again! The shop is extremely low on stock so be sure to grab what you can whilst you can as I intend to cut down our range and many items will not be re-ordered going forwards.

SHOP: https://shop.zengarage.com.au

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Dyslexia?!

44 years old this year. Writing the world “from” is still so hard. Always comes out as “form” when I type. ADHD for sure.

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I feel a lot of weight, but also whole lotta great

I like who I am and I HATE how people don’t get me
It’s such a conundrum
I hate it but love it
It’s fucked up
I feel a LOT of weight
But also a lot of GREAT

FUCK
I’m even rhyming
These are lyrics for my next song, Hun

But it’s scary babe
I’m legit scared
I feel like crying right now for fear of having to deal with the haters

It’s hard for me and a weight to bare
I love it
I mean yeah
I have to be a man
I am 44 this year
No Fear

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Dadless

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Super heavy but still good. This is a diary entry I made the night my Dad passed away.

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If you’re going to help, then fucking help! – How to really help someone with depression

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When you’re down in a hole you’re constantly reminded that logic will get you out. Every single person you know of will all of a sudden be the voice of reason; you need some sun, get back on your bike, move countries, if only they knew that every single fibre of your human being KNOWS that any, if not all of these suggestions are completely valid, BUT, when you’re in the hole it’s dark, you’re bent over, debilitated and unable. When you’re in a hole logic makes no sense at all.

Part of getting out of the hole is to stop ignoring the people who care about you and start accepting help. I’m pretty much out of the hole now and have had loads of clarity on the subject of accepting help, so hopefully by sharing these experiences I can help others help others.

For whatever reason I had a new credit card issued at some point. The new card had a new number which threw out the direct debiting of my bills. The bills piled up and I was being charged interest as I just couldn’t get around to opening mail. My mum (bless) decided to take over and she’s been getting payments up to date and reconnecting direct debit services. She noticed that Energy Australia failed to access my mains reading (out on the street) and for 3 months in a row charged me an estimate, but on the 4th month (being last month) they got access to my mains box for a reading and sent through an accurate bill PLUS a bill of over $1200 to pay for the excess use of energy (as they estimated way low for the 3 months they couldn’t reach my mains box).

The latest bill, and the additional bill for the 3 months I was undercharged, was taken out of my account direct debit BEFORE the date on the invoice which Mum wasn’t happy about so she asked if she could come over, get me to call Energy Australia to allow her access to my account so she could fight with them on the phone. Keep in mind at this time I had no ideas what she was talking about. I just snappily went through security questions with the Indian lady on the other end of the line and passed my mum the phone.

At the same time as mum was on the phone I had got a worker outside ripping off sheets of corrugated plastic off my deck roof. The wind here is something else at times and my roofs been falling apart a sheet at a time. I’ve been meaning to fix this for a year or more but just haven’t been able to get around to it. Instead I’ve just dealt with the flapping and crashing noises the sheets make on windy days (deafeningly loud btw but when you’re in a hole you just mix it in). I’ve got construction next door too. They knocked their house down and are now just at the end of a 1.5yr new home build. It’s been noisy for so long, in retrospect it can’t have been good for me to sleep in my lounge room which is closest to the flapping roof and construction next door!

I’m trying to zone out and play my computer game. Woosah. I got this. 2hrs later mum gives up and Dianne decides to give it a go. She jumps in there and starts blasting whoever it is on the other end of the line at Energy Australia. I see and hear something I don’t really want to see. If the girl I’m seeing is speaking to another human being in that way then surely in future she could speak to me in that way too? Yucky thoughts. I decide to stop everything and ask mum what the fuck is going on. She explains the dealio and I lose my shit.

Dianne was arguing for no reason at all as everything was right and as it should be. IE: Energy Australia undercharged me for 3 months as they had to make a guesstimate because the house construction next door blocked them from reaching my meter panel. I now was sent a bill to pay for the energy I used during those 3 months. For various reasons mum was angry. I get that, but what did she want? A refund of some sort? An apology? I wasn’t so sure in the end but I pulled both Dianne and mum aside and with a deep breath and in a very calm fashion I let them both know that OK; I get that you’re trying to help me, but if you’re going to help me, THEN FOR FUCKS SAKE PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME! I had to make it clear that the stressful vibe that was my mum and Di blasting nastiness over the phone started at 10am and went all the way through to 2PM and I needed them to note that despite good intentions, none of their efforts helped me at all.

The example above might be overkill, but it was a real moment of clarity for me. Sometimes when you’re in a hole you’re in your head and you just can’t reply because replying takes effort and when you put effort in you get grumpy and start blasting people. Another classic example; Di and I are in the car. Hey I’m out and about! Mum calls Di, Di puts mum on speakerphone and Mum asks if I’d like any lunch. I’m indifferent but hey, sure. Mum then asks what do I want for lunch and I almost lose my shit. I shut up because I know that’s the best thing to do when I get like this. Di noticing my dummy spit takes the call off speaker and speaks to mum, a few seconds later Di asks me that mum wants to know what I’d like to have for lunch…

I lose my shit again. FFS why is this so fucking hard?! Get me lunch, or not, it really doesn’t matter, but if you’re gonna help me then FFS just please, please fucking help me.

So I hope these examples can help to further understand how you can more easily help a friend who’s down. For me, it took a while to get going on my own power again, but you know you’re getting out of the hole when you start getting mad at the help, so mad because you feel that if you want shit done then you’ve got to do it yourself. That’s motivation right there! If that isn’t a wake up call then I don’t know what is!

PS: Sadly this reads better on medium than it does on my own blog (compare reading thew above to the same exact copy but on medium: https://medium.com/@justinfox_30083/how-to-really-help-someone-with-depression-d8705f1b346d). I’m keen to re-work this blog to make it easier to read (old man now, this small type is really doing my eyes in lol).

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Ice-cream makes everything better

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I’ve got a scar across my left eyebrow from an incident I had in Primary School. I’m not sure exactly how old I was at the time (I was at Kensington Public School from years 1-3, so I assume I was 7-8 years old), but I remember a couple of kids had formed a tank/battering ram with their bodies; each kid had one arm around each other and the other arm pointing at me in a fist (thus army tank like?!).

They shoved me into the toilet blocks and cracked my head open. I remember seeing their faces in shock. I remember looking down at both my hands which were covered in blood. I remember a teacher rushing over to me. I have vague blurry images of being in an ambulance, but in the front seat, not the back.

I remember seeing my mum at the hospital and a nurse asking if they turned the sirens on for me (they didn’t). I then remember having a cloth put over my eyes whilst I listened to nurses as they stitched me up. I couldn’t feel any pain, but felt immense pressure on my head every time a stitch went through.

I remember them talking about my mum outside, and one of them saying an ice-cream will fix me right up. I remember getting that ice-cream too, and my grey school shirt was unbuttoned all the way down and my Clarks Koala singlet was bloody to my belly.

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