GoneForABurton
In verum, decor.
My name is Fiona Colleen McNair, and I am 23 years old. I’m a pretty regular sort of girl, really, or so I seem to get told all the time. ‘Oh Fiona, you’re so average’, ‘you’re so mediocre, Fi’, ‘you’re so normal you’re like Normal woman, not Wonder Woman’. Okay, I made that last one up, but still.
I like all the usual things people talk about, when they say what they like. Long walks on the beach, watching sunsets, all that sort of stuff. I’m not very original, I know, but when several million other people aren’t either, why should I make any effort to be different? I mean, everyone I know uses that crap- every guy who wants to get into my pants, who wants to try and come over as sensitive- every time, it’s the same ‘walks on the beach, sunsets’ shit, that they probably think they’re using ‘ironically’, when really, they’re just being unimaginative pricks who think that running off some spiel they blatantly don’t believe is going to work. Not that it doesn’t- it used to, before I grew into my cynical phase.
I like simple things, like the feel of clothes right out of the dryer, or the taste of the first sip of water when you’re really thirsty. I like the sound of wind rushing through tall grass, and the feel of mud between my toes. I like drinking chilled apple juice on a hot day, and hot chocolate with cinnamon on a cold one. I liked watching cheesy old movies in the middle of the night, and tacky soaps during the day. I like shining a torch under my chin and pretending to be a ghost when it’s really dark. I like pretending I’m a mad scientist during thunderstorms. I like to order in numerical order when I get a takeaway; so one time, I’ll get 87, the next 88. I like to pretend my car is the one from Back To The Future, so I have to keep my speed under 88 miles an hour. I like to wave at trains, and flip off helicopters. I like to stick my tongue out and catch snowflakes. I like to figure out what shapes are in clouds.
I like the way I look too, for the most part, although I hate some things about myself. I hate how I can never get my hair to stay out of my face, but I do like the auburn-brown shade of it. I hate how my nose curves a little too much, and how it’s a little too big for my face, but I love the dark brown colour of my eyes. I hate how my cheeks are a little fat, but I like how full my lips are. I hate how I barely reach 5’3, but I like that I’m curvy with it, so at least I don’t look like a child. I don’t like my hips- they’re too wide, and it makes it ridiculously hard to find clothes that fit; I like mybum, though-some people tell me it’s too big, too round, but I like it. I don’t like my breasts, though- it’s not that they’re too small, or weirdly shaped or anything, because they’re not; they’re about a small C, and the left one’s a little bigger than the right. They’re just not right, though- I don’t want them bigger, or rounder, or anything; I don’t want to change them at all, really, but there’s something sort of off about them, and it bugs me. Sometimes I’ll spend half an hour, just staring at them in the mirror, trying to work out what it is that bugs me about them.
I like doing all kinds of things as hobbies; I like to draw, although it’s more doodling in the margins of things. I have to be careful at work, because if I get bored during meetings, I’ll just end up doodling in the margin of some important document, and then I’ll have to hand it in with a little picture of a fairy on it. I like to play music, too- I took lessons when I was younger, and I’m pretty good with a harp now; I have no idea why I thought it would be good to do, but I did it, and I can play a mean harp. A nice one, too, come to think of it. I like to write, although I’m nowhere near as good as I think I am- it all comes out as angsty stuff, or clichéd crap, or really trite romantic gushing that makes me seem like a little girl. I love to ride, too- I have my own horse at a stable my parents own, a little dappled grey mare called Dewdrop, because I’m really bad at naming.
I like to wear clothes that are comfy, for the most part; I wear a lot of sweaters, and jeans, and t-shirts. I don’t wear heels unless I’m dressing fancy- same with stockings, and skirts, and underwear that’s not cotton or boring colours. I always wear my necklace, too- it’s a simple silver chain, with a little figure of a fairy in it that’s made out of either sapphire, or coloured glass. Nobody can seem to figure it out, and I’m not so concerned that I’ll go get it analysed or whatever they do.
I’m a neurotic mess, and a hive of secrets. I lost my virginity at the age of thirteen to a boy who barely lasted any time at all, and tried to make out that it was my fault. I smoked secretly until I was seventeen, when I started smoking openly; I prefer menthols, because they make me feel like I’ve been breathing fresh air, and I don’t feel so guilty. I’m a closet lesbian, and only my best friend knows; I told her because I liked her, but since then, things have been kind of weird between us. I talk to people I know are wrong for me, and I get myself into more trouble than I get out of, but I’m young, and I don’t have to worry, right?
I work as a ‘professional girlfriend’. I know, I know, it sounds like a euphemism for ‘whore’ or ‘hooker’ or ‘escort’ or something, but it isn’t. See, I never have sex with any of my clients, and yet I provide a service that is just as valuable. It’s easy to do, and I can take on several clients at a time. See, there are people in the world who long for human contact, for a relationship, and yet don’t have one. Maybe they’re too busy, maybe they’re too shy, maybe they just like the idea but hate the actual act. Whatever their reason, they just never get round to it. Which is where I come in.
For a nominal fee, I will, for however long they require my services, be their girlfriend. I’ll write letters, IM, call, Skype, sometimes even go on dates or hang out with them and meet their friends. Whatever they want, I’ll provide. Whoever they want me to be, I’ll be; if they want a busty blonde called Kaytee who likes to party and isn’t all that smart, then that’s who I’ll be. If they want a devastatingly witty brunette with a South African accent and a tattoo of a butterfly, then that’s who I’ll be. I can be younger, older, fatter, thinner, flatter, bigger, and so many things. I have many names, many identities, and not even my clients know my real name, except for one or two who I’ve known for a long time. Sometimes, I’ll get someone who just happens to want me to be something almost like my actual self, and those are the clients I love; those are the ones I can relax around, the ones I can just be cut loose with.
It’s a pretty good gig, really- I get paid a lot of money for barely any effort, and on the rare occasions I do see someone face to face, they pay for everything. I can pick and choose who I have, and for fairness, I choose an equal amount of guys and girls, though I do prefer the girls, obviously. I have a pretty free reign with what I do, and how I do it, thought there are three conditions.
1) Do not have sex with a client
2) Do not reveal any genuine personal information to a client.
3) Do not fall in love with a client.
Well, two out of three isn’t bad, right?
In my defence, they wanted me to be exactly how I am in real life, without realising it. And when you can be yourself around someone, you’re bound to have some feelings, right?
Right?
I like all the usual things people talk about, when they say what they like. Long walks on the beach, watching sunsets, all that sort of stuff. I’m not very original, I know, but when several million other people aren’t either, why should I make any effort to be different? I mean, everyone I know uses that crap- every guy who wants to get into my pants, who wants to try and come over as sensitive- every time, it’s the same ‘walks on the beach, sunsets’ shit, that they probably think they’re using ‘ironically’, when really, they’re just being unimaginative pricks who think that running off some spiel they blatantly don’t believe is going to work. Not that it doesn’t- it used to, before I grew into my cynical phase.
I like simple things, like the feel of clothes right out of the dryer, or the taste of the first sip of water when you’re really thirsty. I like the sound of wind rushing through tall grass, and the feel of mud between my toes. I like drinking chilled apple juice on a hot day, and hot chocolate with cinnamon on a cold one. I liked watching cheesy old movies in the middle of the night, and tacky soaps during the day. I like shining a torch under my chin and pretending to be a ghost when it’s really dark. I like pretending I’m a mad scientist during thunderstorms. I like to order in numerical order when I get a takeaway; so one time, I’ll get 87, the next 88. I like to pretend my car is the one from Back To The Future, so I have to keep my speed under 88 miles an hour. I like to wave at trains, and flip off helicopters. I like to stick my tongue out and catch snowflakes. I like to figure out what shapes are in clouds.
I like the way I look too, for the most part, although I hate some things about myself. I hate how I can never get my hair to stay out of my face, but I do like the auburn-brown shade of it. I hate how my nose curves a little too much, and how it’s a little too big for my face, but I love the dark brown colour of my eyes. I hate how my cheeks are a little fat, but I like how full my lips are. I hate how I barely reach 5’3, but I like that I’m curvy with it, so at least I don’t look like a child. I don’t like my hips- they’re too wide, and it makes it ridiculously hard to find clothes that fit; I like mybum, though-some people tell me it’s too big, too round, but I like it. I don’t like my breasts, though- it’s not that they’re too small, or weirdly shaped or anything, because they’re not; they’re about a small C, and the left one’s a little bigger than the right. They’re just not right, though- I don’t want them bigger, or rounder, or anything; I don’t want to change them at all, really, but there’s something sort of off about them, and it bugs me. Sometimes I’ll spend half an hour, just staring at them in the mirror, trying to work out what it is that bugs me about them.
I like doing all kinds of things as hobbies; I like to draw, although it’s more doodling in the margins of things. I have to be careful at work, because if I get bored during meetings, I’ll just end up doodling in the margin of some important document, and then I’ll have to hand it in with a little picture of a fairy on it. I like to play music, too- I took lessons when I was younger, and I’m pretty good with a harp now; I have no idea why I thought it would be good to do, but I did it, and I can play a mean harp. A nice one, too, come to think of it. I like to write, although I’m nowhere near as good as I think I am- it all comes out as angsty stuff, or clichéd crap, or really trite romantic gushing that makes me seem like a little girl. I love to ride, too- I have my own horse at a stable my parents own, a little dappled grey mare called Dewdrop, because I’m really bad at naming.
I like to wear clothes that are comfy, for the most part; I wear a lot of sweaters, and jeans, and t-shirts. I don’t wear heels unless I’m dressing fancy- same with stockings, and skirts, and underwear that’s not cotton or boring colours. I always wear my necklace, too- it’s a simple silver chain, with a little figure of a fairy in it that’s made out of either sapphire, or coloured glass. Nobody can seem to figure it out, and I’m not so concerned that I’ll go get it analysed or whatever they do.
I’m a neurotic mess, and a hive of secrets. I lost my virginity at the age of thirteen to a boy who barely lasted any time at all, and tried to make out that it was my fault. I smoked secretly until I was seventeen, when I started smoking openly; I prefer menthols, because they make me feel like I’ve been breathing fresh air, and I don’t feel so guilty. I’m a closet lesbian, and only my best friend knows; I told her because I liked her, but since then, things have been kind of weird between us. I talk to people I know are wrong for me, and I get myself into more trouble than I get out of, but I’m young, and I don’t have to worry, right?
I work as a ‘professional girlfriend’. I know, I know, it sounds like a euphemism for ‘whore’ or ‘hooker’ or ‘escort’ or something, but it isn’t. See, I never have sex with any of my clients, and yet I provide a service that is just as valuable. It’s easy to do, and I can take on several clients at a time. See, there are people in the world who long for human contact, for a relationship, and yet don’t have one. Maybe they’re too busy, maybe they’re too shy, maybe they just like the idea but hate the actual act. Whatever their reason, they just never get round to it. Which is where I come in.
For a nominal fee, I will, for however long they require my services, be their girlfriend. I’ll write letters, IM, call, Skype, sometimes even go on dates or hang out with them and meet their friends. Whatever they want, I’ll provide. Whoever they want me to be, I’ll be; if they want a busty blonde called Kaytee who likes to party and isn’t all that smart, then that’s who I’ll be. If they want a devastatingly witty brunette with a South African accent and a tattoo of a butterfly, then that’s who I’ll be. I can be younger, older, fatter, thinner, flatter, bigger, and so many things. I have many names, many identities, and not even my clients know my real name, except for one or two who I’ve known for a long time. Sometimes, I’ll get someone who just happens to want me to be something almost like my actual self, and those are the clients I love; those are the ones I can relax around, the ones I can just be cut loose with.
It’s a pretty good gig, really- I get paid a lot of money for barely any effort, and on the rare occasions I do see someone face to face, they pay for everything. I can pick and choose who I have, and for fairness, I choose an equal amount of guys and girls, though I do prefer the girls, obviously. I have a pretty free reign with what I do, and how I do it, thought there are three conditions.
1) Do not have sex with a client
2) Do not reveal any genuine personal information to a client.
3) Do not fall in love with a client.
Well, two out of three isn’t bad, right?
In my defence, they wanted me to be exactly how I am in real life, without realising it. And when you can be yourself around someone, you’re bound to have some feelings, right?
Right?
