Page 75 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

“I tried to break it off with her again, and she told me she loved me and couldn’t stand to lose me. It was magical to hear those words from her. I couldn’t pull away after that. She said, ‘I love you,’ and I was helpless to resist.” Chad’s talking, but there’s something that looks like painful truth on his face for the first time. I rewind it, listening. “… wish I hadn’t said no to dates with women who were real because I would be cheating on someone I was paying.” His smile is a combination of wistful and sad, and it makes me want to give the guy a hug.

I sit back and let it all sink in for a moment. The memory of Helena’s hand on my arm flits through my brain, leaving me to wonder about my life choices.

“Are you having a girlfriend experience?” the journalist asks. There’s a checklist on the screen.

One. Barriers to interaction and transactions are decreased as much as possible. Check. One for one, but they started with the low-hanging fruit. Everyone decreases barriers to transactions; gyms make a fortune on memberships that autorenew every month. And yes, I have direct access to her, but it’s not the same at all.

Two. She remembers important dates and events and makes you feel important. Check. In our shared calendar, sometimes I find hilarious little entries for my day. Sweet—“Take 10 minutes to practice self-care”—to the ridiculous—“Have you pooped today?” Today, I found, “Make time for sticky toffee pudding.” So I did.

Three. She acts like a girlfriend, concerned and devoted. Check. I could use an antacid, which I didn’t pack. I pause the stream and grab a glass of water instead.

Four. Pet names and encouraged intimacy. Check. My meal really isn’t agreeing with me. I got the same thing as always, steak and fries, but my stomach is churning. I might need to take a stroll to the pharmacy. I could go now and watch the rest of this some other time. I start to stand to put on my shoes, but the next item on the list captures my attention.

Five. Professional-quality sexual gratification. A thousand checks. I’ve never gotten off so hard in my life as I have with Kait. She’s not even touching me, and she lights me up. Five for five.

I force myself to listen to Chad. “If you get addicted to a woman you pay, you’ll sleep alone for the rest of your life. There won’t be room for the real thing in your bed.” He continues. “I spent about three grand a month to be lonely.”

Three grand a month adds up. Three hundred and sixty thousand in ten years. Without interest.

Holy fuckity damn duckity.

Hah. I’m start to sound like her. Maybe I am spending too much time talking to her. And the money, dear lord. A wave of nausea strikes hard. I laugh, but it’s the dry kind, a mockery of real laughter.

I pick up my phone and calculate the future value of my actual spending—four grand a month, which is more than Chad ever spent—and at 7 percent interest, it’s an eye-watering sum. I take a huge gulp of water to wash the stomach acid down. Damn. Maybe we don’t need to talk every single day. We can make do with texts sometimes. Or we can talk every day, but not as long.

Maybe we’ll talk for free once she heads off for school. Massive savings. Huge.

Next up is a guy who did the phone sex thing. Tony. He’s clean-cut in an all-American way.

“I’m a sex addict,” he says, direct from the outset. “I will always be a sex addict. I would be at work, and all I could think about was getting to my car so I could call.”

I hear you, brother. Totally hear you on that.

He runs his fingers through his hair, a deflecting gesture. He looks sad, a little hollowed out. “Talking to her made me feel better, but it was destroying me. Like any drug addiction, I loved every single minute, but I would feel so low after. Talking to Kait filled me up, even when it was ruining my life.”

Kait’s name grabs my attention, and I put down my calendar-mandated treat. “I still miss her. It’s like any addiction though—if I call once, I’ll be calling all the time. I was ruining my life. My bills were going unpaid because I couldn’t get enough of her, even when the credit card bills were destroying my finances.” I’m pleased to report that I can afford my Kait habit, but it’s still a painful amount of money to contemplate.

“She was smart, sexy, intuitive, and in fact, we didn’t even talk about sex until I brought it up.” Oh hell. Don’t talk about sex first? That’s one of Kait’s myriad rules for life as a phone sex operator. Are his Kait and my Kait the same freaking Kait? No. What are the odds? It’s not like Kate isn’t a common name.

“I eventually told her about the credit card bills and overdue notices. She said I was destroying my life and that she was just the method I chose for ruination, and I needed help to break free.”

He has a wistful smile as he speaks. “She asked me tough questions, said she thought that I was a sex addict, and recommended therapy. She threatened to ban me from calling, but she decided I would pick another service, so she didn’t. I kept calling, spending more money I didn’t have. She kept making our calls shorter. Like weaning an alcoholic. I started intensive therapy, and then my therapist, Kait, and I chose a quit date.”

What kind of phone sex operator recommends therapy and helps a caller choose a date to quit calling? The Kait kind. My Kait. The kind who has a degree in psychology and once told me to look up demiromantic and see if the description fit.

“I miss her, but I can’t call her. I don’t do drugs. I don’t gamble or smoke or eat too much, but I would happily ruin my life to talk to her.”

“Tony, what would you like the people watching to know?”

“Sex addiction is real, it’s powerful, and it is possible to get well. Help is available.” A website and an 800 number flash across the screen. Interesting. Tony is trying to help people. “If you’re ruining your life with sex, whether that’s risky behavior, anonymous sex, spending too much, ruining your relationships—whatever that looks like for you, there is help. SA, Sexaholics Anonymous, is free and can help you break out of the cycle.”

“Tony, if you could talk to Kait right now, what would you say to her?”

“I would say I miss you and thank you,” he says with a smile. A genuine one.

The news guy interrupts the moment. “She nearly bankrupted you, and you want to thank her?”

Tony’s offended now, his lips thin as he gives the journalist a sharp look. “I nearly bankrupted myself. Kait told me to get help and quit calling. Kait helped me realize I was a sex addict. You have to take ownership of what you’ve done and the decisions you make. I’m a sex addict. Phone sex is my drug of choice. If it wasn’t so damaging to me, I’d love to call and tell her I’ve healed. I’m helping others now, and I think she would appreciate that.”