The girl next door

It’s 3pm on a Friday afternoon and my doorbell rings for the third time that day. I skip down the stairs, trying to wipe the incredulity from my face as I open the door. Yes, sure enough, there stands another one. This time, he looks a little older, and infinitely more sheepish. As per the others, he asks for my name. When he realises he has rung the wrong doorbell, his cheeks flush with colour. He asks, predictably, for my neighbour, assuring me that she is expecting him. And so I dutifully point him in the right direction and return to my flat to procrastinate some more.

Almost exactly an hour later, I prick up my ears and I wait for it. There we go, the click of the front door and the sound of muffled voices. He says goodbye, she thanks him and tells him she looks forward to seeing him again soon. This time I can’t help but laugh. Can it even be true? You see, my neighbour has always been the kind of girl who keeps to herself. A very quiet, wholesome girl, who rarely has wild parties and lives alone. Everything was normal until she started to welcome a constant stream of male visitors into her home.

In these times of austerity, students will do just about anything to minimise the damage to their overdrafts. But seriously? I myself have, quite a few times, desperately dreamt up ways to earn a little extra cash. But if what I think is happening is true… my next door neighbor seems to have taken it too far. 

Put it like this. We have all woken up next to someone we have never seen before in the clear focus of sobriety and had to endure the walk of shame. Maybe this girl just decided that it was better to do it in the comfort and privacy of her own home, at a time which suits her best, and with the discretion of an astute business woman. After all, is there really so much difference between accepting a plentiful supply of messy bombs in exchange for a little action, and someone handing money over upfront? 

Now of course, I am not suggesting that the Careers Centre should start promoting this as a graduate opportunity. But listen, I’m not judging! But I do feel that if I’m going to be complicit by showing these men to her door, my slightly less eccentric income won’t bail me out of a cell in Glenrothes when the secret gets out and my entire building is hauled in for questioning.

It would appear that my neighbour is not the only one new to the game, take a look here. Over the last few years, there has apparently been an increase in girls going to extreme lengths to fund their degrees. What is perhaps more shocking is that there have been websites to facilitate this. We could blame the government for hiking up tuition fees, of course, forcing students to degrade themselves in order to receive a good education. However, I personally can’t help but wonder why they just don’t get a waitressing job at their local pub…