When I tell people I’m a veterinary surgeon, they usually make two completely wrong assumptions. First, they think I get to play with lovely puppies and kittens all day, which means I have a lovely job. Second, they think I make a fortune. If only they knew that dealing with sick and dying animals and distressed owners all day is not lovely and that I’ll be paying my student loans for the rest of my life it seems, they might realise that being a vet isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I spend four nights a week sleeping in a flat above someone else’s practice providing emergency cover. I also work four full day shifts and sometimes more if another vet is off sick or on holiday. So much for my dream of being Dr. Doolittle.
Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a misery guts and, quite honestly, I’m not. I just wanted to explain why I’m chronically single. I don’t really have time to meet anyone and even if I did, my work schedule would make it impossible to build a relationship. The night cover I do is really erratic and it’s when I get the most lonely. I need to sleep of course, but it’s hard because I either can’t nod off because I anticipate an emergency call or, I finally manage to crash and then get woken up by one. Either that or I have a patient requiring regular monitoring downstairs. So, I spend a lot of nights feeling a little bit stressed and bored.
Last year, during a short summer holiday with some friends I went to vet school with, we shared our stories of living as a real vet in the real world. Aside from one of my mates, who got a cushy job in his father’s practice and who is married with a young kid, we all were suffering from a chronic lack of a social or sex life. Well, all of us except for Ben. Ben just came out and said that he had started using an escort service and it was the best thing since sliced bread as far as he was concerned. For him, he reckoned it was no different than getting a massage treatment. He firmly believed it was a way to deal with his work stress in a constructive and fun way. I was intrigued.
The following Saturday night, I went back onto my night shifts. The practice I work for is located in a pretty nice part of London. As I’ve been using the staff flat, upstairs, more than anyone else for overnights, I’ve made it quite homey and comfortable. So, I thought it was about time, I gave Ben’s recommendation a shot. Ben had suggested a very discreet escort service called Cleopatra. He said he preferred them because they handled bookings so professionally and made everything very easy. After debating with myself for a couple of hours, I finally decided that it couldn’t hurt to try.
I checked out the website and was completely floored by the number of really gorgeous women available for dates. It didn’t take me long to pick one that looked just my type. It was sort of weird but I suppose it’s no different than a dating app, except you don’t have to wait risk being turned down. She’s already willing to date you, but there are no misunderstandings about who will pick up the tab. It’s all very uncomplicated.
Because I’m always a bit frazzled, I able to summon the energy to be nervous about the date even though I’d never done it before. I was a tiny bit apprehensive though. What if it wasn’t the same girl or what if she didn’t look like the woman in the photos? I went through all the ‘what ifs’ in my brain, but reassured myself that Ben said he’d had no problems at all. I don’t drink on duty, but I rushed out to the offy to get a bottle of wine so at least I could offer my date a drink. Then I hopped in the shower to make myself presentable and sat down to wait.
Right on time, the buzzer rang. I went down to let her in, opened the door and my first thought was to tell the woman at the door that she must have the wrong address. She was that beautiful. I suddenly recognised her from the website, apologised for seeming so confused and invited her upstairs. She was very chatty and friendly. She had a slight accent, but spoke fluent English. Her accent was sort of sexy. She sounded (and looked) a bit like a Bond girl to be honest. I was definitely enjoying this idea. I told her about my job and let her know that if an emergency call came in, I might have to call the date short and to not take any offense. She told me she loved animals and thought it was great that I would walk out on a gorgeous woman to help a sick puppy. That was cute.
We hung out for a while. She was just a couple of years younger than I am, so we had a lot in common and it was pretty much like any other first date. We got to know each other, had a few laughs and then we started making out on the sofa. In the back of my head, I couldn’t stop worrying about an emergency call, but it didn’t take long for me to relax and indulge completely. And indulge, I did. Oh my god. I can’t even tell you how much I needed that. You don’t know what you’re missing until you have it again. It was like all of my worries just melted away so I could be totally in the moment and enjoy myself. Thank God no one called.
At the end of our date, we had as shower together, which was super fun and sort of a bit of icing on a very delicious cake for me. When she left, she gave me a sweet hug and kiss and I gave her envelope with a generous thank you in it. I may not have a lot of money right now, but it’s not like I spend it on much anyway. Might as well let her know how much I appreciated her company and also her wisdom. While we were chatting and I explained my circumstances, she told me that I should be taking better care of myself and that doesn’t just mean getting exercise and eating healthily.
She was right. By not attending to my emotional and sexual needs, I was adding to my stress. Since that night I’ve slept really well, even on duty. I’ve promised myself that I am going enjoy this very special type of destressing treatment on a regular basis. I’ll worry about having relationships when I have my own practice and have some young vet staying overnight above my business, so I can have a life. It’s all part of the process.