In the course of one of my recent internet rabbit holes, I stumbled upon the website of a ‘professional companion.’ Now, I know what you’re thinking: I wouldn’t believe me, either. But it happened through a link on a Firefly fan site and a mention of Inara Serra and a simple click later, I was staring at rates. The rates are what caught my eye and caused my friend Orly to yell “WTF! My husband gets all this from me for free!” Companionship is…expensive, and the various line items made me thankful that I’ve found lasting companionship in the form of my ‘wife.’
I say wife, even though we’re not married. There’s no single catch-all word for ‘unmarried, committed, long-term, adult life partner’ so I just say wife because people immediately understand, generally, what that encompasses.
My unmarried, committed, long-term, adult life partner happens to be a goddamned delight, which makes me one of the truly lucky ones. But even more so now that I see what her value on the open market might be.
Let me share with you the online carte du jour of this professional ‘companion’ that I came across.
I think this whole thing is grand. The companion seems lovely and if peak capitalism has achieved nothing else, then at least wealthy loners with thousands upon thousands of dollars of disposable income can find some comfort in the form of what seems to be an exceedingly pleasant person.
This really speaks to me. With my own, long-term companion, we broke the ice fifteen years ago and it hasn’t been back since. We love to connect as people and our guard is always down. Once we get ‘behind closed doors,’ though? That’s where the fun really begins. We talk shit about the neighbors, make fun of our parents, and gripe about what useless sacks of lard our kids are, no matter how great they’re being on any given day. That’s also where my companion reminds me of all the shit I forgot to do, where I intimate that she’s messy and where we narrow our eyes to slits in defiance of each other as we slowly re-open the door and mingle back into society.
When I break this particular bill of companionship fare down, however, I’m most struck by what my unmarried, committed, long-term, adult life partner is saving me.
First of all, we love to have coffee together in the morning. She has an espresso and I -now- have an Earl Grey tea because I’m trying to pare down my coffee intake since I like it light and sweet. (Like, light and sweet as a milkshake.) We chat and laugh before we wake the kids up for school and then really take our time and enjoy ourselves on the weekends.
Lunch is tough for us because we both work from home and never seem to have any time. Usually we whip something up and try to sneak in a quick update as we shovel our food in before jogging back to our computers on the double-step. It probably happens twice a week or so.
Dinner is something we always try to have as a family because we read somewhere that it has a huge impact on children to have the safety and security of a family meal. That said, sometimes it’s tough to get the schedules to work out and we spend about half the time eating while standing up or running around. Still, four nights together per week seems about right.
As for overnights? Well, those are my favorite part of our relationship! Kicking each other in our sleep, waking up to gouges in my calves from her finely sculpted talons? Who can forget the aphrodisiac of morning breath? She’s a master of rolling herself up like a taco in the duvet so that I’m left with only the part of the duvet cover that has no duvet in it. One time, in my sleep, I fumbled around for a missing pillow, found the edge of a pillow case and proceeded to yank the pillow out from my companion’s sleeping head like the rip cord of a parachute. So yeah, overnights are a paradise beyond words. We do them almost every day of the year and I shudder to think what that might cost me.
Two days together? Oh man, that’s the dream. With four kids, we don’t get a lot of protected 48-hour periods, but weekends do feel more connected than the hustle and bustle of weekdays, so let’s say 52 at the inside and all the rest of the days as the outside.
So that’s generally what having the coolest person in the world sharing my life from a financial standpoint costs. Somewhere between $485,000 and $2,625,000 annually. And yes, I know what you’re thinking: this is a sexual companion. The high price you pay for these tête-à-têtes is because there’s the enticing potential of sexual gratification in the offing. In that, certainly, my relationship is no different. There’s always the looming possibility of intimacy, provided that the kids aren’t within 1000 miles of the house, the temperature and humidity in the room are perfect, and I’ve managed not to irritate her for a period of three to six weeks. Then? Of course! The blossoms of love will bloom for all.
We are primarily social creatures, and while in one way it’s reassuring to see that something as elusive as kindness and comfort and companionship can be acquired in exchange for remuneration, in another way it’s depressing how nebulous and fleeting true connection seems to be in this world. More so even for the younger generations, where it’s approaching epidemic levels.
Now, obviously, all of this is written tongue-in-cheek. I can’t pretend to equate life-long, fulfilling companionship that’s the center of my universe with a relationship based on compensation, and I hope everyone realized that this was a comedy piece in that regard. Ultimately, it’s impossible to put a figure on the type of comfort and emotional stability we get from true partnership, but I wish everyone the best of luck in experiencing it firsthand, and hopefully in a way that doesn’t overtax your pocketbook.
Header Photo by Cody Black on Unsplash
