I went and got a full time - well, it was supposed to be part time - mainstream job so that I’d have something legit to answer when people asked me “So what do you do?”
It’s funny, because I was trying to avoid having the “Yes, I tell strange men how to stroke it over the phone” conversation with some new friends. Instead I’m finding I get very strange looks from my peers when I introduce myself as… a salesperson.
Go figure.
So this girl on Salon.com was asking whether or not she should do fetish videos. And the other vagaries of her letter aside, I found myself thinking (again - you do this constantly as a sex workaholic) about the social ramifications of my sex work. (My bank account is telling me I need to spend less time thinking and more time phone boning. My logic is telling me if I’d written this 24 hours ago I could’ve made the deadline for the next Black Heart Magazine.)
I wrote her a response, and it got me thinking:
This is high-intensity work; don’t be mistaken. If you’d shy away from nursing, counseling, or police work then you might want to think again. Sex work is rewarding, and not only financially, but it is demanding. It’s emotionally draining, financially uncertain, socially unacceptable, and very hard to explain to your friends, family, and significant others. Don’t fall into it if your heart’s not in it. It won’t be worth it for you.
If the money’s the only reward for you then it won’t be enough to compensate. If money’s not the only reward for you then all those hurdles might not be enough to hold you back.
(Read the rest of my response here.)
For me, the rewards outweigh the issues. There are issues; I can’t deny that. It’s hard to deny that if I asked 20 strangers about my job, 15 of them would assume I’d been abused.
My mother was abused. That’s why she’s a consultant.
My sister was abused. That’s why she’s a college student.
My best friend from high school was abused. That’s why she’s an editor.
I’d say a third of the women in my straight workplace have been abused - that I know of. I don’t know what the numbers are for sex work, but the numbers for mainstream are pretty staggering.
Of those 20, two would assume I’m a nympho.
Sex work, for me, is a sexual outlet. I’ll admit it. I’ve had to come to terms with the idea that I can either have my every last little sexual whim sated, or I can date someone I find fascinating in and out of bed rather than merely keep a stable of exhausted human dildos. I’ll take quality over quantity any day.
(Not that my current human dildo doesn’t blow my mind make me come like a fiend sate my sexual whims. I think my archives will attest to that. But he does require food, sunlight, and sleep from time to time. Which works out - if I had free access to his cock I’d never get anything done.)
I have to do something with this excess energy, so I use it against the perverts of this world. This keeps me out of trouble, keeps my sweetie in nice dinners, and keeps the perverts happy. It’s a win-win.
Of the remaining three individuals, two would think I’m going to Hell and one would think I’m awesome.
Three of these 20 would, after knowing me for a while, decide it’s just a job, albeit a weird one, and they don’t really care so long as I’m fine.
Good for them.
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