Humorously enough, or perhaps not…100 or more pro dates should have been enough to pay off my college debt. Guess it’s too bad I burnt out so soon. Had hoped to hang in long enough to cover that as well, but I paid off a lot else and spread some of the money around where it was more needed. Most youngens aren’t the best with money, especially when they’ve never dealt with much before. Plus my focus was supposed to be on my studies primarily, so I worked only a few nights a month.
At one point I made the mistake of personally dating a client—a hobbyist, at that—despite knowing better, and somewhere in all of that something went *snap* and I’ve never been quite the same again since. Tried quitting in 2007 but then wound up going right back after a few months because I needed the money, then later picked up a legitimate job that of course didn’t pay shit, so I was stuck moonlighting from thereon. From 2007-2009 I barely saw any new clients and mostly stuck with 3 or 4 I knew well and trusted, though I did agree to meet a new client from Chicago, but he and I wound up in an argument and I just walked away from it all for the last time. And that was it. Took down my website and requested my reviews be removed and said sayonara.
Tons of details in there and plenty I think would show why I got so sick in my heart. But I feel torn on sharing those stories because there’s this need in me to show some sort of balance, to not overlook the decent people just because assholes exist too. And when I say “assholes” I’m not referring necessarily to the worst kinds since I tried hard to avoid them; it’s more about how people behave toward someone when they simply believe they can. Garden-variety assholery, if that makes sense. And that just goes with the territory. It’s not supposed to be a rose garden — it’s work, and that’s the toughest part: dealing with a variety of people who may think they mean well yet do and say things that really wear on a person over time.
But it’s more than that too. When people smirk and give me grief about being involved in that profession, what they don’t realize is that IME the worst part of the whole ordeal came from dealing with reactions from people in the general public. In other words, the pressure from without was more straining than the pressures from within, but it all culminated and wore me down. Who called me a “whore” or “scum”? Not my clients, at least never to my face. That was people at the bar or idiots online who were playing on my site’s contact form or neighbors. Women quit having much of anything to do with me, which was a decline already in progress. The feminists I dealt with online tried arrogantly speaking for people “like me” and drowned out or ignored what I and others actually said, so there was no reasoning with those bitches. Lost a couple female friends, lost several acquaintances, and the news of my profession even turned out to be a little polarizing among the swingers we knew too. Who’d a thunk it?
My family had some odd reactions to my choice of work, but whatever. As to be expected. Grandma was supportive though she worried about my safety. My ex-husband wasn’t amused. My guyfriends were more tolerant of my decision, though one was adamantly against that line of work (because he’d come up around street hustlers and that colored his view of the matter). Personal life dating became a joke, and the first and last boyfriend I dated after my husband and I split up turned out to be a nightmare. After that I figured out that the only kind of guys who’d date a gal in that line of work are very likely on the take. Having the option of a romantic partnership taken off the table was a hell of a cost and that did weigh on my spirit over time. Life gets pretty lonely in that sort of job where you’re tending to men who mostly all are married, so while they returned home to their wives and lives, I hit the bar and took to drinking too much and prowling for temporary comfort.
This started out intended as an explanation to those who like to ask how come I didn’t work more at that job so as to pay off all of my college expenses. The answer probably has something to do with losing faith and concern in this stupid money game and the bullshit mindgames we play with one another. My notions of romance were destroyed from just seeing how much cheating and lying goes on out in society, and how everybody feels justified, and how easily crocodile tears are conjured up on cue and how “the other woman” winds up being the one blamed as temptress and society just laps that shit up. It taught me a lot about what it means to be a woman in this day and age and how some shit never changes, and what does doesn’t necessarily change for the better. Not necessarily. Not here.
People will say, “well don’t cry because people look down on you for being a ho, just quit being a ho.” Yeah. Says the very same people who also encourage women to behave like hos. And you want to know who some of the most hateful people were toward me? Promiscuous women who slept around for free. They fucking resented me, for reasons I still don’t entirely comprehend. Their problem couldn’t have been with sex since some of them were what I’d refer to as damn-near indiscriminate at times. For example, one gal I was friends with a few years ago would get all snide about it and talk her shit, and I’d just say “hey, nobody’s stopping you. It’s not like I’m cornering the market. Go to it if that’s what you want.” But she’d just stay all bitter about me earning money doing as I’d do, while during that same time she was going out and partying it up and blacking out drunk and sleeping with however many people (basing that on stories she personally told me, mind you). In that respect I remained the ‘bad guy’ until the day our friendship ended in a blowout argument. C’est la vie. Don’t miss the bitch.
Had a raving alcoholic, psycho, middle-aged bitch bartender try to give me trouble at one of my favorite watering holes. I remember she’d force her way into the bathroom with me and lock the door and interrogate me and just behave like a paranoid schizoid. See, I arranged work online and refused to mix business with my personal-life hang out spots. Furthermore, married or attached men held absolutely no appeal to me in my off-time. But people couldn’t believe that. All it took was a rumor to get around and then I’d have some crazy lady convinced I was with this man or that man she had her eye on, so then I’d be grilled and possibly threatened and might have to switch to a different bar, yada yada. That particular situation wrapped up with the woman dousing me with the contents of a pitcher and breaking a bunch of glasses before she walked out the door, so I got off easy on that one considering people say she’s been known for punching men backward off their barstools. Scary broad. I blame whatever drug(s) she must have been on, which I’m guessing was meth.
Those are just a couple stories to illustrate my point. I am literally filled to the brim with all kinds of dumb stories.
I guess it’s human nature to look for a ‘bad guy’ to compare oneself against so one can feel better. It’s not fun bullshit to be pegged with, but that’s the way it goes. The role of prostitute, in all its possible forms, is considered the bottom rung in the social hierarchy by most folks. That same bottom rung includes all kinds of so-called “miscreants” and “bums” who people love to hate on and only pay lip service to giving a damn about when it serves their own agendas.
For a few years it didn’t get to me too badly, but then all of a sudden it really did. The clients most certainly weren’t a bunch of saints so there was no point retreating to them since they’d just as soon throw you under the bus as quick as anybody else if it served their interests.
So, rather, I’ve grown to distance myself from people in general, more and more. Still holding onto the abstract notion of love of humanity and my heart still goes out to plenty of people, but Americans are a tiring lot to come up around. We’re so goddamn harsh and fickle and impossible to please for any extended amount of time. Petty, ridiculous, selfish, tyrannical, manipulative, mind-fucking bunch of jackasses, that I do believe is what we’ve generally become.
So I don’t know. Bunch of shit, lots of shit, gonna take forever to do the topic any justice. Most of the details aren’t probably interesting to anyone aside from me. There’s just so many levels to it. Harassment most definitely comes with the territory. The reason I even bring up my past on here now is because I’m well-aware it’s inescapable. It’s the condemnation you never live down, as people keep reminding me. So, might as well live OUT LOUD, huh? I prefer outing myself over being outed, so this is my brand, and I’m not ashamed of it and it isn’t my hang-up that’s caused all the drama there.
I found it to be a valuable learning experience and wouldn’t trade it in. But it’s been nice moving beyond that too.
Here’s to greener pastures…