Friends in Low Places

I grew up with a girl named Charnae. For a large portion of my life, I considered her my best friend. But I lost contact with her. She was always changing her number, and sadly, the last time I saw her was at my 22 birthday celebration debacle where she showed up late, came with me and my buds to the Apache Cafe, and was picked up by a guy that was CLEARLY a drug dealer.
The update? Well, roomie said that she heard through the very short ATL grapevine that Charnae is now a prostitute. Sigh. That she hangs out with a girl that I also used to hang with in middle school who is now a mother and a CONFIRMED prostitute. Double sigh.
I wish I could call her. She told me once that she would never lose touch with me because she knew my grandmother's number by heart. But as you know, Granny no longer has a number. She now lives in a nursing home.
I find it so weird how you can start at point A with people and end up in COMPLETELY different directions. There was a time that I wanted to be like Charnae. I wanted to be stylish and have boyfriends and a cute haircut and a bangin' body. Now what? Although I have found it impossible to pray for myself lately I will pray for my old buddy Nay-Nay. It's the least and all I can do.

Legally Not So Legal

My current financial situation has me wondering: just how legal is it to be an independent escort? And what exactly is the difference between an independent escort and a prostitute? And does all this revolve around sex, because I don't want to have sex. And maybe this is just me feeling myself, but I would totally pay to hang out with me if I was a man. I am fun and entertaining. Guys, there is literally not a dull moment in my presence! I feel like that should be at least worth $20.
A random white man I met at a coffee shop told me that the difference is that escorts aren't expected to have sex and they get a bodyguard. However, if they do decide to have sex, that's cool. That's not included in the money paid for the date. That's just what she wanted to do. A prostitute is solely expected to have sex. There is no dinner and a movie in her crystal ball, just a night at a sleazy motel.
But my question is this: if I am on the corner, looking for Johns and I am a prostitute, how does a cop know that I'm not just an independent escort, waiting outside the Fox Theater to advertise, like when party promoters give out fliers?
Fran is for it. I believe her exact words were, "This could be a lucrative entrepreneurial venture for yourself." However, that is not saying much. Fran co-signs all my craziness.
More on this story as it develops.