A Weekend of Absurdity

I did it. I flew across the country to meet a man I had connected with via text, talk, and FaceTime the past few months … and while it seemed romantic and adventurous it was no a fairytale. If anything it could probably be made into a comedic short film about how disastrous these situations can be.

Sam and I matched on tinder in June when I had just gotten back from Europe. We seemed to quickly connect and talked several times a week from that moment on. About a month in I asked if I could fly him out to spend a weekend with me, he said he needed time to think it over which was fine with me. But as more time passed my anxiety heightened. His anxiety renders him frozen, unable to make any choice whereas mine makes me incredibly impulsive… in my mind I saw this as a potential good relationship where we could learn from one another. Ultimately when I needed him to hold some space and understanding for me and my anxiety in the situation he freaked out and behaved in typical avoidant fashion so that was that. . Until he reached out a month later.

This time around I was still hurt from what he had done to me. I was also angry that I had held a lot of space for his needs and feelings during conversations, but felt as though he never once considered that I too struggle with anxiety. I often found myself thinking ‘Just because it doesn’t look the same as yours doesn’t mean it isn’t equally debilitating and deserving of care’. Despite this I genuinely did feel connected to him. I enjoyed talking with him. I was attracted with him. So I kept trying. Often times he’d vent about something and I’d listen or give feedback, but if I needed to vent his answers would be short to nonexistent because he was often distracted by something he was fumbling with. I continued taking my resentment out on him passive aggressively. Which led to a blow up.
Fast forward another month, I’m reading a book on patriarchy and masculinity I’m then reminded of how much men are wounded too, I saw a lot of Sam and why it seemed as though he was unable to think outside of his emotional needs in what I was reading.  I felt a deep need to reach out and apologize for punishing him when he had tried rectifying the situation. I needed to see him and this wouldn’t stop popping up in my mind until we met. Miraculously he agreed so I set up my flight.

I wondered what he’d be like in person, what he’d smell like, what he’d feel like. Would we kiss? What would that be like? What would he taste like? Where would we go? Would he get me flowers? Would we talk through the night? Would I finally get to play with his perfect dark hair? I was excited! When he pulled up at the airport and didn’t get out to help me put my bags in I immediately thought to myself ‘this isn’t a good sign…. but I’m not going to overthink… it’s fine, he’s probably anxious’. I had hoped we’d go to a nice spot for dinner and get some romantic ambiance going, but instead we ordered in. We were both concerned about how our dogs would get along and didn’t want to immediately leave them alone. We didn’t touch at all and I wondered what my problem was if there’s one thing I can do it’s initiate physical contact. I couldn’t tell if I was being anxious or if he just wasn’t attracted to me. He turned on the TV when we were about to eat which I found odd… shouldn’t we talk to each other and flirt? Watching TV on a ‘first date’ in my opinion is the same as going to the movies on a date – I don’t do it in the early stages. I want to know you and feel you not stare at other people on a screen. I started to wonder if I had done something wrong. He was tired and seeing as he wasn’t taking me anywhere and didn’t seem to want to talk to me I agreed to go to bed.

I couldn’t get any read on the situation and considering I have been doing several types of sex therapy for couples and individuals over the past few years I felt ridiculous being in this situation. I put my Invisalign back in and he put his mouth guard in sending me a clear ‘we won’t be making out tonight’ signal. I was disappointed but it was only the first night. I took it as a different form of intimacy and hoped tomorrow would be better. Unfortunately, the next morning was still anxiety inducing, I could feel it in the air. Anyone could probably cut through it with a knife if they entered the space. Thankfully he brought it up  – he even brought up the fact that we don’t know what the other expects in terms of physical connection. After some processing he asked if he could go visit his mom a couple hours because some people were visiting. Despite knowing we’d each do our own thing while I was visiting my ambivalent attachment did not like his request considering I felt as though he hadn’t given me any sincere attention, in that moment I wanted to leave. I hate being where I’m not wanted, but I smiled and agreed trying to protect the sting of pain I felt.

My friend drove over so we could brunch (aka champagne to the rescue).  As soon as I walked up to her she tilted her head with a concerned look on her face and asked ‘are you ok?’ I hadn’t realized how much all the anxiety I was absorbing had affected me, but clearly it showed.  I had brunch and talked with my her for a few hours which helped reset my mood. I went back determined to not let his anxiety dictate our weekend.
When I got back I got on top of him and sent him very obvious ‘kiss me already’ signals. When we kissed I felt relief not only that but I felt hunger and wanted more of him. More of his hands on me, around my throat, grabbing all of my body. More of his body on mine. More connection. More intimacy. More of this feeling. More. We drove to his parent’s beach house about an hour away and I thought we’d go to the beach or walk around the neighborhood and explore, we ended up staying in. I didn’t mind because I felt connected to him during this time. We talked more and cuddled on the couch it felt much nicer than the night before and finally we slept together.

Had I known that the sex would have been a one time occurrence I  would have stopped before getting carried away. Later that night I tried to initiate in the middle of the night and he stopped me, which usually wouldn’t mean much to me…But I felt something change and I became anxious in bed, I lay awake for two hours wondering why he lay on the opposite end of this giant bed with zero desire to be close to me after he had just been inside of me. As someone with overall ambivalent attachment connection is like a drug to me, getting it is the best thing in the world -feeling it slip away drives me insane and deeply wounds me.  I lay in bed remembering all the men in the past who had slept so far from me in bed – they all had in common the fact that they never seemed to emotionally support me. I felt rejected, alone, and uncared for. I wondered if I just called an Uber if I would spare myself any more heaviness that may come from this situation. I could feel my ability and desire to hold space dissipating ‘he doesn’t care about me at all and doesn’t even want to be near me…why do I keep putting his comfort above my own? Why am I in another situation giving more than the other person?’ I fell asleep trying not to cry.

In the morning things were worse and I started to heavily dissociate after having a bad dream triggered by my anxiety. I went to shower in hopes that it would clear my head. I hoped that after a shower I could crawl back to bed and get some morning cuddles in and that things would be good again. That he’d want to be near me and show me I was wanted. I went back to the room and he had removed everything  from the bed to wash the sheets. There it was again staring me in the face – distance and rejection in visual form. It hurt. 

I was in a completely new state with new sights, sounds, smells, and I too, have anxiety. Why didn’t he care about my feelings too? I can’t think of one instance where he asked me how I felt. Maybe he meant to ask, but it came out centered around him as ‘am I being weird?’ to which I’d usually say no/we both are. I pick up on other people’s anxiety intensely and the fact that he never took me anywhere outside to do anything to distract from said anxieties probably didn’t help. He often spoke about himself and his feelings which didn’t surprise me based on past conversations, but the level at which it happened and his lack of ability to empathize with how I was feeling deeply hurt me. Here I flew across the country and he couldn’t stop complaining about how I was disrupting his routine and telling me he wanted me gone with his body language. I was exhausted from pretending that I wasn’t having a difficult time too. Eventually I started crying. 
The mixture of dissociation I was experiencing along with intense feelings of rejection, lack of support, and care were too reminiscent of situations I’d been in with many men before, particularly abusive men. Not only in romantic relationships – but in my paternal figures. This is how I felt most of my life and the very feeling I ran from at eighteen when I left home because I knew it would kill me. Sam was not abusive at all, but unfortunately the memories I have which were triggered by his behaviors and how I felt in the situation reminded me of my abusers. I wanted to throw up and run away. I desperately needed to feel cared for.

Eventually he realized I was upset I’m assuming it was obvious as my face was red and eyes were puffy. He got closer to me and asked if I was ok and if there was anything he could do. At this point I knew there wasn’t so I shook my head and just told him I felt crazy he kissed me and went into the kitchen. I stood nearby with the dogs as he talked about coffee, I wasn’t listening. I kept thinking ‘I’d rather be alone than be next to someone and feel completely alone…. I hate this feeling. I hate this feeling. How do I stop dissociating.’

Luckily at this point I was flooded with emotional support from friends who know me and my mental health well. Sam showed me that there was no space for my feelings here and the best I could do now was try to take care of myself the way he had been doing for himself this entire time. My friend who was visiting South Africa called me no questions asked to help ground me through all my emotions. Once I felt ‘okay’ I went inside, he was doing homework so I sat in another room and entertained myself which seemed to be the reoccurring theme of the weekend. Him paying attention to anything but me and me reading/playing on my phone/cuddling my dog waiting for him to give me a signal that it was ‘ok’ to engage with him. 

Eventually I told him I wanted to talk I told him I felt disconnected which hurt me especially since I felt connected and intimate the previous night night. He agreed and said it was just because he was overwhelmed and in a constant state of anxiety – that there was nothing I could’ve done differently. I half listened to him because I knew he’d only talk about himself. I asked if he wanted me to leave instead of stay with him the last night. I didn’t think he’d provide me with a direct answer, but I knew I’d be able to decipher how he felt based on how he answered. Essentially it sounded something like ‘it’s not that I don’t want to be with you and I’d feel bad saying that but…’ then spent a couple minutes talking about how overwhelmed he was. Though I knew it had little to do with me I still couldn’t help but think …. how is my presence this horrible to you? I’ve asked nothing of you since I got here. I haven’t asked you to take me anywhere fun. I haven’t asked you to emotionally support me. I haven’t asked you to leave the comfort of your home(s). I’ve sat quietly and isolated myself half the time. And I left the house to do something else for several hours on our first and only full day together because you needed space…. and you’re still bothered by my presence?
It hurt me.
Everything hurt I wondered if I had held too much space for him in past conversations that somehow he forgot that I had feelings and needs too.  I told him I’d leave, part of me wished he’d ask me to stay. Oh, ambivalent attachment you masochistic bitch.

As we continued to talk he told me none of his relationships had been stable and that it took him a ‘long time’ to get comfortable having a single sleep over with anyone he dated so an entire weekend was overwhelming. I wondered why he left that out during all our intimate talks. I’m not sure it would have stopped me from coming, but it would have told me a bit more about how severe his need to control and have a structured environment was. I had hypothesized that he was attached to structured schedule because it helped keep him sober, but had no idea just how much he was attached to his way of life. I asked if he felt fulfilled living this way and he said he wasn’t. I couldn’t help but feel sad for him. We all seem struggle with fulfillment but to feel like the only way to survive and stay on a good path is to stay on an extremely rigid and often isolated schedule sounds incredibly difficult. In that moment I thought ‘wow, it sounds like it’s hard to be Sam’  I wanted to hug him and dissect it more, but I had to stop myself from falling into the caregiver role I all too often fall into with people who don’t reciprocate.

Later as he was driving me to my friend’s apartment I mentioned the severity of his attachment to his schedule and he said ‘I don’t think it’s severe’ in my mind I thought you can’t even enjoy a weekend with a beautiful woman or have her sleep by your side or try to give you a blow job without it causing you angst….if that isn’t severe I’m afraid to know what you consider severe. I guessed he meant ‘things could be worse’ perhaps in comparison to who he was when he still drank. He really didn’t seem to have much hope that he would lead a fulfilled life so he’d rather live in the confines of a box he’s created for himself. He didn’t seem to have much self compassion or love. I wondered how he got this way I wished I knew him better, but I knew I never would.

I could feel his anxiety subside as we got closer to my friend’s apartment. I couldn’t bite my tongue anymore I was fed up and hurt ‘don’t fucking do that, don’t show me how relieved you are to see me go when I’m clearly upset. You don’t get to do that to me.’  I didn’t believe that he felt bad at all and think he just wanted me gone. I stared out the window dissociating and wishing I could tear off my own skin and disappear. I hate this longing so much so that I used to turn to physical pain and self harm to distract from it. And here I was longing for care and comfort from someone who was incapable of providing it. 

I asked him to take me to a grocery store or liquor store and he said ‘there’s probably one within walking distance from her place’ it was pouring outside and I could not believe that he had said that to me. I scoffed,  ‘I’m not walking in the rain you’re taking me’ at this point i was so upset I didn’t even care about food anymore I just wanted to drown in a bottle of wine, cry, and be vulnerable with someone who I knew cared for me.  When we finally arrived to my friend’s apartment he didn’t help me carry any of my stuff though it shouldn’t have surprised me considering he didn’t help me with my bags when he picked me up at the airport – I was still surprised. When I got my last bag out I said “well bye see you never” which is a bit of a meaningless catchphrase I have, but probably meant it in this case. He said something back but I couldn’t hear and didn’t care to hear I closed the car door.  

As soon as I got away from his car and into her building’s elevator I screamed. I felt free and supported to do so and knew my friend wouldn’t judge me or make me feel like my having emotions was an inconvenience. She had a glass of my favorite red poured and ready to go and gave me a long comforting hug. This was exactly what I needed – all I needed- support and love. Her and her partner then cooked me a wonderful meal and I felt like myself again allowed to talk and be the full version of myself without worry that I had to be walking on eggshells.

The next day I realized I had forgotten something at his place so I told him in case he wanted to toss them.
While I was texting him I was texting a client who I had recently met and had great chemistry with, he lived in NYC and wanted to see me. I was thrilled I’d get taken out on an incredible date, get treated like a goddess, get laid and get paid to do it. Yes please! I absolutely needed to be treated well and cared for.  Mindlessly I went to text my friend and in a frenzy of excitement I stopped and realized I had sent them to Sam and not my friend.  I felt horrible. One, Sam had no clue I was a high end escort – maybe he suspected because of my open support of sex work and talk about sugar arrangements, but I hadn’t told him and didn’t think I ever would. Usually I can read which type of person will be able to accept/process that part of my life and who will judge me/side with stigma. Based on his questions about cultural and feminist topics in the past and a few distasteful jokes he’d made I didn’t think he’d accept me as a whole person if he knew about my third job. I would no longer be any of the things he knew me as and I’d just be a sex worker. An absurd ending to an absurd situation, at least it was fitting.
I didn’t expect to hear back from him I don’t even know what one would say in response to texts like that even if they weren’t avoidant. I hope he didn’t think I did it with malicious intent. Maybe he hates me now, maybe he feels grossed out, maybe he feels betrayed, maybe it turned him on, maybe he didn’t care at all. Maybe maybe maybe. At the end of the day how he feels about it is none of my business anymore. I had held enough space for him.  Now he can add ‘yeah this girl flew out to meet me and it sucked 90% of the time. Oh and she was a high end escort. Wild’ to his list of dating stories.
Admittedly, I get off on that a little bit – at least no one will ever be able to say I’m boring or predictable. I’ve never wanted to lead an ordinary or mediocre life, if you’re not new here you’ve probably picked up on that. I’m most alive on the edge and my comfort zone is in the unpredictable and spontaneous.

I think if Sam was healthier (or I was so at least I wasn’t triggered) we could’ve had a great time. I believe he’s a good person with a lot of healing and growing to do. My heart feels heavy for him more than it feels angry I can’t imagine him healing as much as he needs to if his fear keeps ruling his life. I know my heart and I know the type of souls I am drawn to, unfortunately his was one was too covered in walls, fire, and defense mechanisms for me to even remotely touch the center of him. I hope one day he stops letting fear dictate his life and that he’s able to take full control of his life – maybe then he’ll find fulfillment, hell maybe even love with a healthy partner.

What I learned: I have the most incredible friends, I’m healthier than I realized; my reactivity and emotional regulation is eons better, don’t text without being sure of who you’re texting, don’t fly across the country for any man on your own dime. Most importantly I reinforced the fact that I can fall in love again, it was very different than what I have had with the musician the past year (see this draft). This time I realized I can connect with someone and still hold space in my heart for A and the days where I still grieve his death. I am a resilient human and through the hell I’ve been through with love (or lack thereof) I still believe in the depths of my soul I will find love again. A may have been the love of my life up until my mid 20’s, but like everything else I’ve believed this strongly at the core of my being I’ve eventually gotten it.
I will love again. I will risk everything time and time again for the possibility of love and I will never regret it.
When it comes to dating I’m no longer anything like the woman I was just a couple years ago. I’m able to put myself first and respect myself while still giving it my all until I have to say ‘enough is enough’ and walk away. I can walk away now without blaming myself. To accomplish that after the amount of abuse I’ve endured in the past is truly incredible. I’m excited to get to know the woman I’m becoming.
I’ve been waiting my entire life to meet her. She’s here.

Yesterday was a great Sunday

I’m not sure if its because I had work with a new favorite client of mine, if its because I met a gorgeous man who looks like sebastian rulli – and fucked him, or if it was the Xanax.
Probably a combination of the three.

The new client
He is a good looking man, a musician (go figure one musician doesn’t care to see me and here waltzes in one who pays for the privilege of being with me), in his 30s and if I’m frank I’d be friends with him had we met in civilian life. And depending how we met I probably would’ve hooked up with him too. Its always incredibly nice to have clients who you actually get along with, have much in common with, and are attracted to.
He’s also my favorite type of client in the sense that he’s going through a rough patch and just wants someone to talk to about what he’s gone through, his fears, and his hopes – I’m good at that. Thats what I like doing best in this job. The more we meet the more he opens up, its a privilege to be able to see this side of people. The side that they usually feel the need to hide.
Sex workers aren’t just about sex, we’re great at being confidantes in every sense of the word – or at least the best of us are.
Getting paid to be around someone like that IS the dream. But its also confusing I’ve heard horror stories my friends have told me of when they caught feelings for a client – I steer clear of it. I’ve come close once, but luckily I learned those lessons from the years of Sugar dating I did.

The Sebastian Rulli Look Alike
Some background my favorite telenovela was Rubi its about a woman who grew up extremely poor, but she was incredibly beautiful…as she got older she became obsessed with becoming rich – by way of making wealthy men fall in love with her. One of those men was Sebastian Rulli’s character
Here’s a picture for clarification:
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Yes- face AND body type look like that. Okay, now that you get the picture.

I first saw this man in the parking lot of the beach and phew….that body and that hair were the first thing I noticed. Then as I got to the beach with my friend I saw him walking as we set up our spot. He made eye contact then set up about 8feet away from us. I sat and felt giggly, which was stupid I’m a hooker when does a man ever make me feel giggly?
He got up and went to swim in the water. My friend and I took a bunch of photos by the ocean then he walked up to us to ask the time then walked away.
I wanted to talk to him but couldn’t think of anything. My friend needed sunscreen so I asked if he had any – he didn’t.
We went back to our respective spots and he started changing out of his wet suit….Oh. My. God. I had to look away but didn’t want to. His hair was wet from the ocean and his body was glistening loooooord. His incredible arms ugh. then his chest. and his abs..god, I wanted to lick those abs. I looked down and looked back up this time his back was to us…and his back was just as great-strong. the top of his butt was showing and yes, his butt was incredible. then he turned to the side as he pulled his suit off completely and plop, there it was…and it was glorious.
I giggled and my friend immediately looked then started giggling too – as if we weren’t being obvious enough before.
We took more photos and he was watching us so I went to ask if he could take one of us. of course he did. We got each other’s names then he asked if we wanted to smoke a bowl with him we didn’t but we invited him to sit with us.

We talked for about an hour. Turns out he and I have very similar cultural backgrounds. We talked about our signs and he immediately told me to stay away from him as I’m a cusp of the two signs he’s most weak for – one he finds incredibly sexy and the other has been the one he falls in love with most. I could tell he found both me and my friend attractive which I didn’t mind, most of my friends are hot after all. I felt I had some upper hand considering he made several comments directed at his history being with women like me. He remained respectful and neutral both her and I appreciated that. We exchanged numbers with him.
And me, being the shameless go getter I am, texted him. My friend decided to wait. We both agreed on a don’t ask don’t tell policy with this guy since we both liked him – unless things got emotional. A couple days later he was in my apartment.

I didn’t expect anything to happen I just wanted to see what the vibe was like. I wanted to wait a little to fuck him anyway. I figured out quickly that the vibe was sexual on both ends. He was a great kisser god damn us mixed lovers – waiting fell off the table. We went to my bedroom and got undressed I could not get over his gorgeous tan body, it was killing me. I’ll spare you all the details and keep that to myself, but lets just say I had a great time.
I finally christened my apartment! I thought it was never going to happen. after we finished we lay gasping, trying to catch our breath. I immediately asked “how would you feel about a threesome with me and one of my girlfriends?” ( RE: N …her and I actually had a threesome after this post, but I’ll share that another time)
He smiled, “I love them-I’ve had a few with my ex who was bisexual” I bit his shoulder ” perfect, maybe we can have a lot of fun together” He grabbed my thigh “I’d love to come and massage you sometime, if you’re up for that”
I had things to do and so did he so we got dressed as we talked about more things we liked.
The entire time he wouldn’t stop saying how beautiful he thought my face was whenever I smiled. And he couldn’t stop talking about how sexy he thought my body was. It was nice. Would’ve been nicer to have more time (round 2 anyone?), but who knows maybe he and I will get a chance to play a few times if fate lets me have a win for once….please fate I just want some steady dick.

The Xanax
This damn magical little pill. It works…too well. I love feeling “normal” i.e not anxious and irritable all the time. I get a lot more done – feel less depressed/anxious/like throwing up. But I am noticing I’m more irritable on the days I don’t take it. Maybe its the stark contrast of going from feeling calm to a jarring overthinking potato that makes me extra irritable. Either way that part isn’t pleasant. I’m still sticking to my 2x a week dose rule, I’m not risking adding physical dependence to a substance to my long list of personal issues. But damn it made my Sunday pull together beautifully.

Managing expectations

The musician I had posted about back in March is in my city tonight, 3 miles away from my place to be exact, but I won’t be seeing him. It stings my ego to write that. As someone whose used to men chasing and paying her – having a guy I dig put in little effort to see me hurts. I always have this issue with men I like. If they’re honest and up front I rarely get mad or at least I don’t show it. Do I even have a right to be upset? I’ve hung out with him twice and we fucked one of the times…whats my problem? And yet I am who I am. Asking if I have a right to feel a certain way is irrelevant; I can control how I act/react, but not how I feel.

To be fair he tried making time to see me it just so happens that I’ll be at my new job that day and he had invited me to be on his guest list several times. I said no because I didn’t want to feel like a groupie. Its not that I don’t like watching him perform – he’s incredible, its mainly that I didn’t want to be the only one putting in all the effort. I’d gone out of my way every time we’d hung out. If he was going to be in my city and not put in any effort why would I go see him perform without being able to have any one on one time whatsoever?
Then I remembered my stubborn streak with A. My friend called me out on how much I regretted the times I did this with him because I was all or nothing and I had vowed to not be like that in any of my personal relationships after he died, for a moment I agreed. Your head gets fucked up after a partner dies so suddenly when you’re young – now every situation the back of my head I think “would I regret doing/not doing this if I could never see them again” its really extreme…I know.
So I texted the musician and asked if he still had room on the list he said he didn’t, but would see what he could do. I knew what that meant and I didn’t need the faux niceties he was serving up – that shit always irritates me. If he was any other man I would’ve called it out, its his show after all. But instead I took the blame. Why?

Its that he’s kind to me. For me kindness is the ultimate drug. I know its pathetic , but its something I’ve missed out on most of my life; mainly from men and paternal figures. So when a straight man in my personal life seems genuinely kind to me all bets are off. All I want to do is be enveloped in that feeling of this person being kind to me. I crave it deeply. I go from powerful, sharp tongued, take no shit kind of woman to a soft and mushy purring complacent cat. He’s incredibly honest, he calls me at all hours of the day, he always replies, he sends snapchats, knows more about me than most people and has never judged me. He is a great man. I just want more.
I’m probably one of dozens of women he keeps saved in his phone on nights he’s lonely or horny. And thats ok, I know how it goes – I’ve made an entire career out of it. Its just that I loathe the feeling of being completely unimportant to someone. The feeling that I could be anyone, I’m just another person to kill time with. I may hate that feeling more than I hate the feeling of longing and thats really saying something.

If I’m completely honest with myself I don’t think I’m remotely upset with him. I’m upset with myself for always craving so much. My therapist was right when she said I’m living in the realm of the hungry ghost when it comes to these situations.
The Hungry Ghost: The description is that of beings that have incredibly tiny mouths—they are said to be about the size of a pin, just a tiny opening—and great big stomachs; and these stomachs are empty.  They are not able to take in the amounts of nourishment that they need. The reality of the realm of the hungry ghost is that they experience extreme need and extreme hunger.

For me the extreme need and hunger is a desire for kindness and to feel cared for. When I get a taste I want more and more because I worry it’ll be taken from me at any moment. But seeing as I’ve never had much of it – when I do receive a lot at once I tend to run or self sabotage because I don’t know how to take all of it in. My brain is like “woah. what do I do with all this kindness and affection!? RUN!” Its quite a frustrating cycle. But hey – ambivalent/avoidant attachment 101!

I’ve been working on changing this part of myself for some time now. Its definitely improved, but in situations like this I’m reminded I still have a lot of internalized personal feelings I need to work out.
I don’t know what to do. Do I back off? Do I tell him? Do I just keep talking to him several times a week?
Maybe my depression is exacerbating everything too…so how do you know what to communicate when you don’t know what makes sense? Whats real? Its not to say that my feelings are any less valid when my depression hits harder than normal…but I’m aware that my anxieties and insecurities are heightened.
Maybe next week my depression will lighten up a bit. I’ll turn back into the woman everyone is used to seeing and 90% of this wont apply.
I’ll laugh at this post because I won’t believe how dramatic I was being.

Its hard to tell so its hard to know what to do.

The Threesome That Wasn’t

I went out to see a friend who was visiting my city. We had some drinks (ok, a lot) and caught up. By the time we went to the second bar I was drunk, but it still didn’t mean I didn’t hate most of the fratty mid 20s-early 30s crowd. One of my newer friends who I’ve quickly gotten close to met up with us which helped, at least I had someone who hated the scene as much as I do with me. Lets call her N.
We were about to leave when I saw a man I thought I recognized, I went up to him “C? Is that you – do you remember me from high school!?”
We got to talking and exchanged numbers then N and I left to eat. I couldn’t tell you what time it was or how we got there, but I do remember eating! Eventually we went home and C came over. We had more drinks and did some blow. We talked about life and made out. It was a good time, I was amused. N and I were down to sleep with him if we found he was worth it (i.e meaning he had a decent sized cock). Its interesting to me that in m/f situations I’m usually very submissive – but if theres three I’m normally dominant especially with the woman. I told them to move upstairs to the bedroom. As they made out on the bed I pulled out a few of my toys.
I decided to blindfold him. It was a power move – its always about power. N and I kissed him and then when we pulled his boxers off he wasn’t hard – and even if he was a grower he’d still be pretty small. I kissed him and took the blindfold off “I don’t think tonights your night C” he smirked a bit embarrassed and replied “Yeah I shouldn’t have done so much blow.”
I didn’t want him sleeping over – nor did N. So I asked him to leave then N and I cuddled and fell asleep.

Imagine – two beautiful women willing to fuck you then when its showtime you can’t perform. I obviously know it happens and don’t blame him I’m just thinking how shitty that must have felt for him!
Sucks to suck.

Now its just another story I’ll add into my collection.

“Where Are You Going? Please Stay.”

Re: Short lived, but enriching

I’ll truly jump through hoops in order to not feel longing and I know thats why I initially replied to his text yesterday. I can feel loss, anger, pain, rage, fear – I can sit with them all, have a full on discussion and ask what they’d like from me…but not if the core of those feelings is longing. Longing is like swallowing my tongue whole. Not being able to breathe. Not being able to speak. Standing there paralyzed. Dying unable to ask for what I need.
Its something I grew up with every day since the day I was born. Longing for security, safety, love, stability…and never getting it. As I grew older I grew to run as fast as I could I’d rather feel anything else; drunk, high, full of adrenalin, near death, fucking strangers – anything but the yearning of that which I can’t have. Some people who grew up with an extreme longing throughout their childhood grow to be very good at longing – almost to a fault. The others end up like me. Its funny how quickly our minds will run to an extreme in order to avoid the one feeling we’ve grown to abhor more than any other.

Its not that I don’t like this guy I do, he’s a good guy, but its purely physical. I also get ridiculously horny once I sleep with someone its hard for me to shut it off again especially if I’m not committed. If I am I committed I control myself easily as I’ve an extremely monogamous heart. But I have to be honest with myself and realize no matter whether I wanted to sleep with him before or not – this time it stemmed from my desire to escape the original feeling of longing.

“You need to learn to sit with this feeling. It is going to be painful, you will cry, and you may go a little crazy…but at some point its a lesson you need to learn in order to be the healthiest version of yourself you say you’d like to be”
I sat there frustrated staring at my therapist…I didn’t want more pain I wanted to feel happy. Did that mean I wasn’t ready for all the changes I said I wanted to make? What the fuck was my problem.
To see a clear fork in the road and one that says “OLD COPING MECHANISMS” and the other “PATH TOWARD GROWTH” and take the former….thats how much I evidently hate longing.

So off I went. He kept complimenting me and touching the small of the back. I was short because I could be. After all, he said I was too nurturing when we were dating. Colds what he wanted so colds what he’ll get. Once I move someone out of the “romantic interest” compartment in my brain there’s truly no making your way back. Not to say I’m mean thats not really in my nature, but I’ll grow distant because I’ll know they’ll always come back..perhaps not because they want all of me but simply because they’re craving my energy or want someone to warm their bed. Thats ok with me.
He put his arm around me. I let him. This part felt familiar. We engaged in mindless smalltalk then he mentioned that he saw that I moved into my own apartment recently. He asked how I could afford it. I laughed. His eyes widened “So how do you afford all this?” I laughed more. He joked and asked “can I buy some cocaine off you?!” I pushed his shoulder and said absolutely not. I just said “We come from different worlds and the way we survive is very different just leave it at that.” I know he’d never accept me being a SW much less an escort. He’s too young, too arrogant, too unaware of what it feels like to not know whether you’ll eat the next day or if you’ll have a home next week. In retrospect I wish I had said I was a drug dealer – its more accepted than being a hooker. Now I’ll have to come up with a lie if I see him again.
I changed the subject and feigned interest I was merely waiting to see how he’d make his move.

Finally he did. We hadn’t slept together when we did date so I could sense his hesitation as he tried to gauge if I was going to let it happen. He lifted me and took me to the bed. Firmly put his hands around my throat and kissed me. This wasn’t gentle. It was animalistic, it was hunger. Perhaps even more so my own than his. So much so that for the first time in my life I tore – blood splattered out toward his chest, all over his torso, and forearms. He stopped and my immediate reaction was to laugh because in my mind it was such a vivid visual of the choice I’d made coming to fruition. Then I realized that probably made me look crazy so I acted concerned, which I started to be considering just how much blood there was. He carried me to the shower so we could get cleaned up.

Afterwards we lay on his bed, cuddling him was okay when we dated but it took me a while to warm up. This time I lay stiff trying my best to breathe deeply and normally. I decided to leave because I needed sleep and sleepovers are saved for a select few. I started crawling over him to leave.
He grabbed me by the waist and lay me back down “I have to go!” he looked shocked that I would even say such a thing I asked why he was making that face, “I thought you’d stay, you always would before”
I scoffed “Yeah thats when we were trying to build something emotional” I rolled my eyes and crawled over him again and slid toward the other side of his California King bed. He grabbed my forearm “I’d really like it if you stayed. Please stay. I want to cuddle and fall asleep holding you.”
I froze. I didn’t want to. I wanted to go home and fall asleep sprawled out alone in my bed. I’m so bad at saying no to men when they’re being vulnerable like this: aching for some companionship. I rolled my eyes again and went back to my spot in his bed he kissed my forehead “don’t do that. this isn’t that” he looked confused and said “lets just take it a day at a time” I didn’t want to talk so I agreed and turned over.

Would I do it again? Maybe. But I’d prefer it not be as a method of escapism.

Society Leads to a Deep Insecurity When it Comes to Sex Workers

“Are you only dating me because I have money?”
“Do you ever fake with me like you do with clients?”
“How do I know you actually have feelings for me?”

I’ve gotten all these questions several times if I tell the person I’m involved with that I do some form of SW. I can’t blame them for feeling insecure, but logic behind the questions is lacking.
If I wanted to date someone just because of the money they better be giving me money. The irony of it is that most of the wealthy men who’ve asked me this never gave me cash whereas those who did never asked and simply saw it as an extension of affection, sort of like a “hey I know you need it and I want you to do well, don’t stress about rent here you go!”. Either way I don’t really have it in me to date someone I don’t actually like, rich or not. If I’m being honest some days I wish I could because being a spoiled GF looks pretty sweet. Its just not my thing and won’t make me feel fulfilled.
The all too common are you faking because you fake with clients….ugh. This makes me want to roll my eyes so far back they create a damn orbit of their own.
Clients pay me. Its my job to make them believe and feel whatever they want to. If they want to feel like Gods in bed, I’ll do it. If they want me to insult them and tell them they’re shitty in bed, I’ll do it. Its my job – end of story. In my personal life why would I ever fake with anyone? What could I possibly get out of that? If I’m having sex with you in my personal life its because I want you, because I want mutual pleasure, because I want authenticity. So no I’m not going to fake just to boost your confidence – I’m not working – faking won’t really let you get to know what gets me off. Its an all around loose loose.
And finally the last question kind of ties into both. My work is exhausting. Men are draining. Being charming is draining. Walking into a room and figuring out what that person needs for the next X hours and becoming that is tiring. If I’m spending time with anyone in my personal life it is only because I want to. If anything sometimes I wonder why the men who ask this don’t feel a little bit more lucky that I am spending time with them instead of worrying if I like them. Yes! I’m here and happily using the last bit of energy I have to be in your company for free that is how much I like you.
I understand the insecurity and confusion. If the tables were turned I know I’d have a hard time so I do have patience. But I think part of the lack of logic in these questions is the fact that sex work still isn’t seen as work. I feel as though people think I just walk down the street a man hands me 2k and I just lay down and spread my legs open…that would be so great!
But its websites, persona, ads/marketing, professional photos, reviews, reputation. I spend about 10k a year on keeping up with all this and making sure my persona’s image is maintained. And thats just the behind the scenes work it doesn’t include emotional and physical labor. Its hard to know and embody what someone you’ve just met wants and no I don’t just mean sexually I mean energetically and personality wise you change and mold into what they need, not everyone can do it despite the constant whorephobic jokes people make of “Im so broke i’ll just be a stripper/hooker/cam girl” whenever I hear these jokes and people don’t know I’m a SW my blood boils. My soul will cringe, I bite my tongue and smile. Usually these comments are made by people who could never harness the energy needed to be a successful SW. If society saw SW as work I believe the people I romantically get involved with wouldn’t ask these questions as frequently…If only.

I had a great time, so why am I crying?

Love.
Something some find so wonderful and appealing is a word alone that causes my heart to race and my brain to jump to fight or flight mode. Don’t get me wrong – love is something I crave more deeply than almost anything on this earth. To be held and to hold someone who loves me..who I love? Thats kind of my dream.
More often than not I dislike cuddling – my body tenses up, my senses become heightened, and I become painfully aware of my breathing as I try to breathe at a steady pace so whoever is trying to show me affection doesn’t notice that I feel trapped. But the thing is when I genuinely feel a connection with someone I want nothing more than to hold them and yet letting myself feel that kind of intimacy is a different kind of pain, its a reminder of how much I deny myself what I want.

I don’t feel like I’m allowed to fall in love, for one I’m a sex worker. Now, before I get the “sex workers can have relationships and love!” bit I know that to be true – its just that specifically I can’t. Having another person touch me when I’m in love (or like) with someone is hell for me and in the past I’ve always chosen love over money, right now what my family and I need is money….but where do I draw the line? How long can I deny myself the things I’ve wanted my entire life? How long can I run?
*Cue Moulin Rouge’s Elephant Love Medley*
C: All you need is love.
S: A girl has got to eat.
C: All you need is love.
S: Or she’ll end up on the streets.
C: All you need is love.
S: Love is just a game.
C: I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me.
S: The only way of loving me baby, is to pay a lovely fee
This was one of my favorite movies in middle school…actually several of my favorite movies/novelas/books growing up had a SW as a main character. Perhaps I always knew I’d end up here. But back to my point.

The heavier layer is the fact that when the man I loved killed himself two years ago I almost died. That isn’t an exaggeration. I was on my way out as I’d had a history of depression and PTSD which I’d struggled with managing throughout my life- but I managed, when this happened any desire I had to push through dissipated. I had written letters out to those closest to me while trying my hardest to write in ways that would clear them of any guilt, but who was I kidding? I knew there would always be guilt when you experience that kind of loss. Loved ones would answer the phone in a panic anytime I called and I knew they were half expecting it to be me saying goodbye before offing myself. Friends didn’t want to leave me alone. I cried in public and didn’t care who saw. I got drunk and screamed at strangers, the ocean, the sky. I felt too much while feeling a pit of emptiness in my soul.
For six months I was a shell of myself, the worst version of myself: cold, cruel, with no will to live and no faith in people. Only until a year after his death did I start to see traces of myself coming back. Now I’ve healed, but its left quite a bit scar tissue on my heart.
I barely survived that, I’m terrified that another heartbreak will kill me.I’m aware that isn’t logical but its exactly where my anxiety induced brain runs anytime I feel an ounce of myself want to hold someone who isn’t paying me. Sex work in a way protects me from being able to meet someone I could love its my own twisted form of insurance on top of the money being great I get to have an excuse not to emotionally connect.

But what do I do when it happens anyway?
I met a man on valentine’s day. I was in the mood to get out and explore on my own so I went to Santa Cruz to his show. He came to say hi beforehand, its not often I feel anything for men anymore, but as soon as he spoke to me my body felt pulled toward him. As I watched him perform I realized that he was incredibly talented. One of his songs made me cry which is essentially soul porn for me. We met up afterwards and I immediately felt comfortable with him I wanted to let my guard down, but refused to. My hesitations were completely my own because everything about him told me that he wouldn’t judge me for any of my complicated choices or my heavy life story. His energy felt warm and welcoming if I could bottle that feeling up and carry it with me I absolutely would, I’d probably be a much better person if I could feel that all the time. We made out and that was all I was still doing my celibacy thing and he wanted to wait as well. He left. I felt happy to have met him.
We talked almost every day after that. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel anxious or like running. I didn’t feel like he’d intentionally hurt me. I didn’t feel like he’d ever hit me or lie to me. I didn’t even feel like he’d ghost even though we’d only met once. I felt like I could trust him – what!? We made plans to meet again. Finally the day arrived and I drove out three hours to see a man I’d met once..I still have to laugh just typing it out because its completely out of character for me. I got there and holding him felt different than how most men hold me it felt nervous, unsure, but safe. Usually when men hold me it feels like possession, hunger, and entrapment.

We went to the party he was playing I mingled while he worked. Anytime I stood by him I felt that pull to touch him and feel close to him, but of course that wouldn’t be appropriate. At one point I was standing with him and he said something along the lines of “you’re really beautiful- like I can’t believe you’re into me…. because I do ok for myself I’m not a bad looking dude but you’re on a whole other level of beauty. Part of me is still like did my friends put her up to this!?” I laughed and felt extremely flattered that he appreciate my beauty so much I joked in return “your friends probably couldn’t afford to hire me for this! its like 5k a night!” he immediately reacted “is that how much it is?” I could feel my expression change – I hated people asking how much I made, I opened my mouth to speak and he said “don’t answer that – that was a stupid question I’m sorry I hate when people ask me that” I smiled again and felt happy to be in the company of a man who openly called himself out. A white man at that. I thought of all the time and energy I’d spent trying to teach defensive white men why the things they said were inappropriate and felt an immense relief when I thought, perhaps this one won’t drain my energy after all.

When we got back to the hotel I broke my celibacy streak and I did so happily. He was gentle, something I wasn’t used to in my personal life. Its odd to say, but I felt inexperienced. I can’t remember the last time I felt that. I couldn’t simply ‘go through the motions’ even if I wanted to. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more.
When it was time to leave in the morning I felt sadness and I couldn’t put my finger on why. We said our goodbyes and as soon as I got to my car I cried. For a few minutes as I drove I was confused, where was this all coming from? I’d had a great time. I was happy!
Then suddenly I realized: I felt something while we made love. No, I’m not saying I’m in love with a man I’ve met twice. I’m saying I felt something as in I let myself feel a connection instead of blocking it out and dissociating. And that alone hasn’t happened to me since A’s death.
I felt overwhelmed and pulled over to sit by a creek. I didn’t know what to do with any of these feelings and I suppose I didn’t need to know. I just sat there overwhelmed. I was unaware of the effect this would have on me it was beautiful, healing, and heartbreaking.
I only know one other person whose ever lost a partner and the first time she experienced this she screamed at the man the next morning and kicked him out, her reaction was anger. I didn’t understand why until now. Its strange enough to watch time pass by as we grieve, heal, and move on with our lives. Its another thing entirely to actually feel something for someone else no matter how small the feeling may be, in these situations it can feel monumental in the timeline of moving forward.
I hadn’t thought of A much these past few weeks perhaps if I had I would’ve been more prepared…then again if I had been thinking of A so much it probably would’ve meant I wasn’t ready.
In a way I feel that this was fate. I could’ve met this man a year ago but the experience would’ve been completely different. I wouldn’t have been ready to feel anything. I probably would’ve gotten too drunk and fucked him out of boredom. I feel as though fate said “You’re ready it won’t be easy, but you’re ready and you deserve to see that. You don’t have to keep denying yourself, at least not because of this. Not anymore.”

Maybe I’ll see him again. Maybe I won’t. I’m enjoying it and taking the moments we do have together as they come, looking beyond that would dilute the present. Destiny has been kind to me this year and I trust that what’s meant to happen will and what isn’t won’t.