With talk of tuition fees rising to £9,000, some students are going to have to turn to new ways of making money. So, the Newswire’s Rebecca Hughes decided to rent herself from as little £6.50 an hour to pay the bills.
My friends have lovingly nicknamed me a ‘lady of the night’ and now as I’m standing on the corner of a quiet street in London, I think they might be right.
However, I’m not a prostitute; I’m a rentable friend. They say money can’t buy you love, but apparently these days it can buy you friends.
I admit, I signed up with visions of going hot air ballooning with Robert Downey Jr-esque men, but instead I am faced with a man in his early thirties, recently divorced, looking like he’s in the middle of the breakdown. I smile awkwardly at him. What do I do? He’s a friend, so I can’t shake his hand, but then I don’t actually know him, so I can’t hug him either. It was the start of one awkward night.
Rent a Friend, a database of people who can be hired "to hang out with, go to a movie or restaurant with", or be "someone to show you around an unfamiliar town", is beginning to spread from the US and Japan to the UK. It’s a strictly platonic site in the words of the owner, Scott Rosenbaum. And aren’t I glad.
My friend appears to be sweating nervously from across the table. It feels like a blind date gone horribly wrong, or like you’ve been forced to work with that boy in school who unknowingly has a line of constant drool dripping out of his train-tracked mouth. But then I remember that I am being paid, and for a while it makes me feel even worse. Surely this guy has a real friend to rant about his ex-wife to, right?
The conversation is awkward and fragmented much of the time. I would listen, like a good friend should, but he’s clearly not a talker. Perhaps behind his screen when he signed up he thought it was a good idea, but now sitting across from me it seems that we are both regretting it.
Maybe the problem was coffee. We were plunged into a situation of conversation, which neither of us were ready for on our first friend trip. Perhaps if we had instead been climbing a rock wall, or attempting martial arts, we could have laughed in our common failure. Instead, we eventually just looked at each other, nodded goodbyes, and shuffled away awkwardly into the night. I felt a pang of guilt as he moved towards the emptiness and isolation of his one-bedded flat. The guilt only increased further when I noticed my bank balance had done so too.