Why I pay for his hookers

To save my relationship, I had to do something that was truely shocking...

Published by: Judy Broadbent & Jean Jollands
Published on: 18th July 2011

There’s nothing like bedtime when everything’s still fresh and adventurous. My new bloke Gary Duffel and me had been together for a couple of months, and had just moved in together. We were at it like rabbits.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Gary, 27, murmured as we snuggled up in bed, cuddling and caressing.
Our relationship wasn’t just about sex, though. I’d been treated badly by blokes before, cheated on, made to feel like rubbish. But Gary was kind and attentive. When he told me I was amazing, somehow I believed it.
That’s why I’d had no doubts when I’d moved out of Mum’s house and into a rented two-bed flat in Sevenoaks.
This was mine and Gary’s love nest. ‘We’ll make this place perfect,’ I sighed. The blow-up mattress we were sleeping on squeaked as I snuggled closer.
At the moment, the place was practically bare though, with hardly a stitch of furniture.
We needed a fridge, freezer, washing machine, sofa…
‘How are we going to afford everything?’ I fretted suddenly. I made peanuts at my barmaid’s job and Gary, a mechanic, wasn’t much better off.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, nuzzling my shoulder. ‘I’ll do more hours.’
But as we shelled out on furniture and tried to keep up with bills, we slipped into debt. Soon, we owed £5,000.
‘I’ll get another job,’ I insisted to Gary. He was already working 12-hour days and doing weekends. So I gave up my barmaid’s job and found a shift job on the tills at Tesco, then another delivering posh cakes.
It still wasn’t enough. When late-night cleaning work came up, I jumped at it.
So now we finally had enough money coming into the flat to pay all the bills, plus start to pay off our debts. There was just one problem…
All those long hours were affecting our relationship. When I got home, all I wanted to do was sleep – I definitely didn’t want sex.
One time we’d made love twice a night, now all I could manage was once a fortnight.
‘Hello, sexy,’ Gary crooned one night, sidling up to me in bed.
I kept my eyes shut, forced my breathing to stay steady, even did a tiny snore to convince him I was really asleep!
Can you blame me? I was up at 5am some days, would do a full shift at Tesco, then clean offices until 10pm. Other days, I’d have a later start, do deliveries all afternoon, begin my supermarket shift at 6pm, then slump into bed at 2am.
Working 16-plus hour days was killing me.
‘You’ve got to slow down, hun,’ Gary said one afternoon.
‘Yeah…’ I murmured. But, eyeing another bank statement, I knew I had no choice.
Our love-making soon dwindled to once a month, even though I still fancied the pants off him.
A year into our relationship, Gary proposed – despite us not making love for four months. Bless him, he must love me! But…what if love wasn’t enough?
As I flicked through a newspaper, I spotted yet another story about a celeb cheating on his wife. My heart sank.
What if Gary did that? Wasn’t I practically pushing him into another girl’s arms? I trusted him with my life, but he was a red-blooded bloke.
Tears pricked my eyes as I imagined him seeing someone behind my back, sharing little secrets, falling in love…
Trying to shake the image, I suddenly spotted an advert at the back of the paper.
Escort girls available. Discreet, fun and local.
I’d hire Gary a hooker!
‘These girls sell sex for a living,’ I reasoned to him. ‘If you have sex with them, it’s not a relationship. They’d just be ‘servicing’ you, scratching an itch, no emotion.’
Rather a call girl I knew about, than an affair behind my back. 
‘Are you mental?’ he shrieked, spluttering his cuppa. ‘No way!’
‘You’ll only need to use them for a little while,’ I babbled to Gary when he got back from work. ‘Once we’ve paid the debts, I can stop working mad hours and get my urges back.’
‘Babe, it’s cheating, it’s wrong!’ he insisted.
After two weeks of badgering,  he   caved in. ‘Just remember this was your idea, babe!’ he sniffed.
The next day, I nervously rang the number in the advert. ‘How can I help?’ a friendly female voice trilled. I told her everything – about my lack of libido, wanting to ensure Gary didn’t stray.
‘So I want to book a girl to sleep with my partner…’ I said. She didn’t seem shocked at all.
I arranged for a woman to come round to our house the following evening at 10pm when I’d be doing the late shift at Tesco.
Yes, they’d be in our home, in our bed, doing the dirty – but I felt more in control that way. 
And I only booked her for an hour. It was £100-a-pop after all.
‘I can’t believe you’ve done this,’ Gary mumbled.
I kissed him goodbye as usual, and went to the supermarket. I worked extra hard that night, anything to take my mind off what my fiancé was doing.
When I finally returned home in the early hours, Gary was sleeping like a baby. I waited for the feelings of betrayal and revulsion to kick in, but all I felt was relief.
I gently nudged him awake.  ‘Well, are you sorted?’ I grinned.
‘Err… yes,’ he smiled sheepishly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve changed the sheets,’ he added.
As we cuddled together, he nuzzled my neck – and I didn’t have to pretend to be asleep, because I knew all he wanted was to hold me.
‘I’d much rather sleep with you,’ he whispered.
It was all I needed to know.
After that, we both had an extra spring in our step, and it’s how we’ve been ever since. Every fortnight, I book a girl to come to our house while I’m on the late shift. I have my own little set of rules, mind, using different agencies so Gary doesn’t get attached to one particular girl. I never ask Gary for details, either.
Friends and family I’ve confided in are horrified, but we’re happy. We’ve got £2,500 left in debts and, once they’re sorted, I’ll ditch one of my jobs and the prostitutes, and focus on making the earth move again.

• Gary Duffel, 27, said: ‘I love Tia, she’s my world, and I hate it that she doesn’t want sex any more. I have a very high libido, and it’s awful to feel like I’m pestering my fiancée to have sex.
‘The situation isn’t ideal, but it works for us. Hopefully, it’s just a temporary arrangement until Tia gets her sex drive back.
‘I’d rather be with my Tia than any of those girls.’
Tia Daniels, 29, Sevenoaks, Kent