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Ive been busy with work (not escorting) for the past few months. I havent minded, because its been interesting and fun. Now the moment of truth approaches and I realise that what Im dreading is everything going smoothly and running according to plan. The stories that terrify me most arent the ones spread by certain sad old men who feel that they deserve more deference from me, a lowly escort - but the ones my friends, family and colleagues tell about my achievements and potential. Im not scared of getting old (when you stand in front of classroom full of 5 year-olds when youre 23 and they tell you youre old, you get over your fear of ageing), Im not scared of dying. Im not scared of violent gansters, but Im not reckless. Im not scared of leaving this industry.
Im shit-scared of me. I believe in what Im doing, but it scares me. Maybe I need the bossy old men to tell me what to think and what to be and how much smaller my dreams need to be, to protect me from me and externalise my fears. They wont always be there, and then it will only be me and everything I can do.
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Added on: 03/27/07 09:11
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Last week, a client called me up and we hatched a conspiracy to go and see the Hogarth exhibition at Tate Britain, then have lunch etc. Today we put the plan into effect and it seems that he enjoyed it as much as I did. He did ask me why I hated men so much and I asked him whether, when he was making the booking, he anticipated appearing in my blog and he told me that he did not. This proved that he knew that I did not hate all men and that he did not expect to appear in the gallery of the damned. The reason he is actually in this blog, is because I am a crazy woman and can do whatever I bloody well like!
Anyway, the interesting thing about Hogarth is that even though he was a print-maker and painter, he was a lot like a writer in terms of his construction of narratives and his awareness of generic conventions and archetypes. This was particularly relevant to The Harlots Progress as societys attitudes towards sex and sexuality have changed considerably in the past 250 years, societys attitudes towards sex workers doesnt appear to have changed much. The guide to the exhibition says: Prostitutes working in brothels and on the streets tended to be characterised as vain, artful temptresses who were directly responsible for moral corruption and the spread of disease. By the 1730s the emphasis on blame and revulsion was partially tempered by a journalistic convention that presented the prostitute as an innocent country girl who arrives in the city, alone and vulnerable, and is tricked into prostitution by a devious brothel keeper. Ill allow you to decide where todays distinctions are made in this ever-shrinking world.
I got an email today about the murder of Susan Third, a sex worker who was only 21 years-old when she was killed. Her killer was given a sentence of just six years and the family would like people to sign their online petition (Im sure theyll take it to Downing Street again with more signatures) calling for a review of the sentence. I cant say what sentence is appropriate for murder as I believe prevention is the best option, but a judicial review is the least the family deserve. Please have a look at the website: http://www.susanslife21.com
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Added on: 03/06/07 11:29
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I got an email this morning about the deletion of all my blog entries since 5th February. My webdesigner explained that there had been a problem with the server and it hadnt been backed up since then and that was the cause of the problem. Its even more frustrating when such things happen just after youve paid for your hosting.
This was just an accident, but it seems that there are a lot of people who seek to be rewarded for things they havent actually done. Top of this list is my GP who has received funding for several years to refer me for an annual Opthalmic screening, but she hasnt actually done so once and Ive had to pay for it privately. This is causing much angst, fury and general hand-wringing from other NHS Drs and Nurses who cant just pocket that money as a bigger bonus. Ive asked the PCT to pay me for the screening as Im the person who pays for it, but while they understand my reasoning, theyre not sure if the rules allow that. It seems that lots of GPs are running similar scams on the taxpayer and the patient, and that the only way to remedy the situation is by introducing vouchers or individual medical accounts. If I decided not to use the services Im meant to use, the NHS would keep the money. If I used the services Im meant to use, the payment would be made. I can already choose which NHS facility I use for everything other than General Practice (where Im bound by proximity and space on the lists) so the NHS internal market must be compatible with this happening. The National Institute for Clinical Excellence issue guidelines that my GP can breach and no other Doctor is allowed to rectify it because they dont have the funding to do so. The idea of vouchers may seem to be a Tory policy, but I feel that it is the only way to safeguard our NHS and save us from mercenary GPs. I am not going private so that my GP can pocket more money.
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Added on: 02/28/07 08:33
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But I will go to St Pauls to see the exhibition about trafficked women. More information can be found at www.stpauls.co.uk and www.panos.co.uk/slavebritain I am pleased that not all churches are trying to sell me True Love Waits rings, or discourage sensible adults from using contraception. It is a good thing that the age-old dichotomy of the whore vs the Madonna (not Mrs Richie) is taking a back seat to the issue of consent and free will. I understand that a lot of men feel uncomfortable with the notion of some women being forced into seeing them and payment not guaranteeing consent, but supporting the powerless is one of the greatest ways of showing your humanity and respect for the choices of the free.
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Added on: 02/21/07 08:39
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This week I have put off every single stranger that has called me and tried to arrange a meeting (people I know and like have been great fun though, even though they were once strangers). Even though I have had more work to do than I have managed to complete (next week, I will not even see people I know and like), I have spent a reasonable amount of time reading.
I will not try to convince you that I am any sort of intellectual as you are all smart enough to have realised that I am a bimbo. If you harbour any misguided hope that I have a single braincell, let me confess that two books came into my possession, both highly recommended, but I have only read one. The first book was Barack Obamas The Audacity of Hope and the other was Karrine Steffans Confessions of a Video Vixen. It was the latter that I read this week.
Within a couple of pages I had developed an intense dislike of Confessions and its author. She discusses her abusive childhood, her abusive relationships, her attempts to use sex to gain love, approval and power, and occassionally she mentions the son she prayed to conceive and then neglected in the pursuit of the aforementioned illusions. Her drug and alcohol abuse is also mentioned. What she neglects to comment on, while name-checking everyone possessing, or possessed by a penis, in the Hip Hop Industry is her own sense of self. She refers to how she felt at certain points in her life, and her lack of self-confidence, but those are external. I know that I am the same person now as I type these words as I was when I played in the Paddling pool and the sand pits with my friends as a three-year-old, or as I helped give Charlene a make-over for her mug-shot after she got caught stealing a chocolate bar from the over-priced canteen (the police never did come, but wed done our best for her anyway). The other thing that I know, even though I am not a God-bothering 12-stepper is that when my time comes, Ill have to explain my deeds and misdeeds to God (actually, I have more of a pay-as-you-go relationship with God and I try to apologise for the bad things now). The other difference between Karrine and me is that as I am not a 12-stepper I dont believe that the higher power wants to be responsible for my mistakes, and having to be 100% personally accountable makes me more self-aware. I understand that the 12 steps help lots of people with addictions, but everyone needs a sense of self - especially if they want to write an interesting memoir.
Steffans claims that her memoir is a cautionary tale. She says Confessions is a story for the masses. There is something in it for everyone; however, I hope to influence those who may be a bit like me: young, impressionable women who lack guidance and self-confidence. I am honoured and privileged to be able to share my story and the lessons that are packed into it, such as learning to be comfortable in your own skin and not needing a man or money to define you. Its a story of hardships and the discovery of self with the lessons about being unafraid of who you are, regardless of the shame others try to impose on you. Not everyones pitfalls are the same, but many times the end results are. We all have a story to tell and we should try to help as many others as we can; its part of the healing.
It all sounds great, doesnt it? I cant help but find it all a tad disengenius: this woman who admits towards the end of the book found fame, infamy or whatever through being Hip Hops version of a prostitute - sleeping with men in the industry, both artists and label executives, for which (she) received money, wants to help women young women like her, and lets just say that, for the sake of verosimilitude, they too are prostitutes, how does describing a neighbourhood she once lived in as prostitute-riddled achieve that noble goal? Using terms with verminous connotations about people you claim you want to help is a risky strategy, especially if it is a stigmatised group like sex workers. I also worry that women in this industry, especially street-walkers will be endangered by her sneering contempt for them, as some people may perceive her attitude as inoffessive or acceptable.
Of the Hip Hop industrys treatment of women, she says The entertainment industry is vast and is a reflection of the society we live in. I believe whats happening in hip hop now would be a disappointment to its founders, as its so filled with ignorance and hate. I find the two sentences above contradictory: if it reflects the society, how can it be blamed for being filled with ignorance? Has she no responsibility for her own ignorance, or is it all Hip Hops fault?
she continues: It has done exactly what those who oppose this culture have always wanted it to do - enforce self-hatred among its people. Can anyone explain the authority / power Hip Hop has to enforce anything on anyone? Do the Blues, Goth or Grunge music enforce depression amongst their afficionados? I know that Gangsta rap is meant to be responsible for the spate of recent murders in South London, but surely the drug and gun trades have a greater role.
It gets worse: somewhere in corporate America, someone is laughing at us - at how we degrade our own women and poorly influence our youth. Isnt the CEO of Hip Hop, Jay-Z part of corporate America? Is someone laughing at something unfunny that worrying? Is this undefined, impersonal we the agent of the degradation of black women? It doesnt seem that she has read her own confessions that (she) would do the most outrageous things possible to be in those kinds of videos. Whatever the other girls wouldnt wear, (she) would wear. Whatever the other girls wouldnt do, (she) was up for. (She) knew such behaviour would increase her worth as a performer and therefore (she) would be able to command more money, above and below the table, while pleasing both the artist and the label alike. So, why did the other video girls not degrade themselves as much as she did? If she does not want other young women to degrade themselves in the way she did, why does she not offer any comments about why this was unwise? Why does she explain the rationale behind her actions and thus make this degradation seem reasonable?
The generic conventions of a cautionary tale require that the author details the undesirable consequences of choosing a particular path, and that the author should also offer alternative paths. Now, as I am a bimbo, I would like you to find the caution expressed in this passage: I was not lucky but blessed. Being a Hollywood actress, or anything related to entertainment, doesnt happen to many people who come from St. Thomas. On the island, the only focus for children is their education. The only dream is to graduate high school, then college, then join the armed forces and / or get a job. People rarely step outside that box. Many islanders stay on the island all their lives, never leaving, not even for vacation. They are islanders at heart and make those great Virgin Islands what they are - jewels in the Atlantic. Most natives need no more than what those twenty-eight square miles have to offer. But Id always been a dreamer, though Id soon learn the value of that old adage about being careful what you wish for, courtesy of a certain NBA legend. Does she encourage her intended audience of vulnerable young women to aspire to academic achievement, or does she belittle that ambition? Is she glamourising a flawed industry that she blames for a range of ills? Is she as guilty as the faceless people she blames. Does this book fulfil its stated objective? Yes. I can now see why a good education is an absolute necessity for a woman. Superhead sucks and Superbrain succeeds!
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Added on: 02/16/07 11:06
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I am not as stupid as I may look. I am not as vain as you may think.
If you think I will be flattered if you tell me that you read this blog, please think again. If you want to meet me because:
You think I hate men
You want to work out what makes me tick
You think every other guy I meet is a total shmuck and you are the best thing since sliced bread
You are looking for a girlfriend
Please consider the following:
I cannot mention all the nice people I meet because so many of you guys are insecure and would get a complex over it.
People will laugh at and feel superiority to the stupidity of others, and Im no saint either, but as I have to endure so much foolishness I have to find a way to get it off my chest.
Could anything be more patronising than a stranger presuming to know you after two hours, let alone one? Do you really think Im so simple and youre so wise that you can figure me out in no time at all?
When did I say I wanted a boyfriend? What makes you think youre worthy of the right to get on my last remaining nerve? Besides, my new dating theory is no more men whose mothers are still alive. A mother-in-law is not conducive to good mental health.
I am rather busy at the moment doing other things, so I wont be doing 1-hour appointments, and two-hour appointments depend on my mood. I will be doing lunch and dinner-dates that involve exhibitions, and Ill put a full list up here too. We can spend as long as we like on the exhibition and lunch and the two-hours private time will be guaranteed, all for 500. If you really do want to get to know me as a person because you are fascinated by my writing, Im sure youll agree that this is a better approach.
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Added on: 02/11/07 08:20
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I am scared of girls, but not in the way you would think. I have lots of female friends and my own mother is female, hey for all the comments men I work with make about me having penis-envy, Im a woman too!
What really annoys me about a large proportion of women is their propensity to gossip. Their mouths are not for kissing, smiling, or tasting fine foods, but just for discussing everyone else. It annoyed me at College and I just stayed in the library and was friends with the guys, but it annoys me even more now. I dont want every little detail of my life dissected by these women whove got nothing else to do with their lives, nor do I want to explain myself or anything I do to a coven of witches who have no understanding or experience of joire de vivre.
The women I like, live their own lives and search their own souls. To some, those women seem self-obsessed, but as Socrates said a life thats unquestioned is a life thats not worth living. The Gossip Queens and I play by different rules and maybe theyre as scared of me as I am of them. Im more scared that Ill throw my Gin and slimline over the next chatty-chatty cow who crosses my path though!
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Added on: 02/05/07 05:52
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Ive had a very busy few days. I was discussing a work matter with a colleague one evening and my phone rang. The man (I wouldnt call him a gentleman) had called me from a withheld number, I explained that to him and he proceded to tell me a tale about him being afraid of his wife finding out, so I hung up. He called me back, still withholding his number, as though he wanted to confirm that he was devoid of charm and sense. I told him why I had hung up on him, and then, as though acknowledging his lack of charm, he whined so you dont want my money then?. I told him a bit about the transaction I was discussing with my colleague and his response was youre lying! Youre lying! Youre lying! like a little kid who couldnt accept that anything in the world mattered more than he did.
The idiot in my last blog entry called me up to apologise, but I was beyond caring at that point and told him so. He told me some story about him being worried about causing harm to his wife. Its the combination of these two exceedingly bright men that has led to me asking the question above. Why do these men, who are not so uxorious as to keep the vows they made on their Wedding Day, suddenly get all uxorious when it can endanger my safety and security? I would no more meet someone without even a phone number to go on than I would cross the road without looking. Nor would I endanger my health to make a clients wife sick. Why should these guys have all the fun of being scoundrels and expect me to take the rap when it comes to her indoors?
If you cant handle playing away, stay at home!
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Added on: 01/29/07 09:26
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Just to let you know, I got the 270 I was owed by the client who was terrified that I had given him something deadly and was absolutely euphoric that I didn't actually have any nasties I could have given him. When we met up, it was all about how much better HE felt, how happy HE was, and how wonderful everything was for HIM. Nothing about the stress and aggravation he had caused me, nothing. Normally I get a sense of job satisfaction from seeing and helping a client, but there was no job satisfaction with him fraying my every last nerve with his neurotic self-absorbtion.
If the boot were on the other foot, I'm sure I would only have been told to pull myself together.
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Added on: 01/19/07 05:15
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One of the toughest aspects of this job is being strong and authorative at 25, when most of my clients are much older than me, but much more vulnerable. I smile at, hug, kiss and listen to lots of men who are lonely. Sometimes theyre lonely because theyre single, other times theyre lonely because theyre in bad relationships, other times theyre lonely because they dont let themselves be themselves and consequently risk rejection and chaos in their own lives.
Normally, I give, and I give and I give myself away feeling happy that I could and that I made someone else happy. My relationships with my friends and family sustain me emotionally and I very rarely feel like Im running low emotionally.
Yesterday I did. A client, who has praised my blog, praised me for hugging him and treating him like a human being got into a terrible panic that I had given him an STD and that he was going to die. He didnt care that for me to have given him anything of the sort, I would have had to have had an STD and would be dying as an unmarried 25 year-old whod never had a child. I guess thats the price we pay for being nice. When I was in Jamaica I was only checking my messages and he was so unconcerned about my need for a relaxing enjoyable holiday that he kept on leaving me vague messages.
Last week I spoke to him, and told him that me telling him I didnt have any STDs wasnt going to make him feel any better and that the only thing I could suggest was that he went to a Doctor and got checked. He did that and called me over the weekend thanking me. Everything came back negative but he couldnt be tested for HIV because he had only met me a few weeks earlier. He told me his Dr said it was very unlikely that a UK escort would have HIV and that it was consequently nigh on impossible that he would have caught it from me. He suggested that we met for lunch, as a thank you, because Im a wonderful person and most of my clients dont do anything like that. I smiled, the poor dear doesnt have the faintest idea about my wonderful regulars!
Yesterday afternoon we went for lunch and he explained his concerns about having HIV. I told him that it was just his guilt about being unfaithful to his wife. Near the end of this lunch (he had agreed to pay me for my time, I need to establish that now so you dont think Im a total shmuck), he told me that he would feel much better and be able to sleep for the first night since we met, if I could get re-tested for HIV and he could see my results.
Being a bolshy Sarf London girl, I agreed. We walked to a private clinic on Wigmore Street and arranged an appointment for 4pm. He kept whittering away in my ears, until even though I knew that I was in no danger of having HIV, I began to worry that the test might come back positive.
I went shopping for some baby clothes (no, Im not pregant, but a friend of mine had a baby boy recently) and as I was at the check-out it occurred to me that if this test were to come back positive Id never go shopping for clothes for my own baby. The fuckwit whod panicked me had already done the marriage and babies thing. I began to question, more deeply than I have ever previously, whether I could stay in the industry and subject myself to the risks (even though escorts have the lowest incidence of STDs of any group in the UK).
I bumped into the client twice on Oxford Street before our agreed 3:45 reunion. This meant that he kept panicking and I kept reassuring him, even though he was stressing me out and there was nobody there to hold my hand and look after me.
Eventually we went in for the test. Fortunately, I didnt have needles and vials of blood taken as they normally do. The nurse pricked my finger and put it on a plastic test strip with a control box and a results box, kind of like a pregnancy test. The neurotic client was deeply concerned about the story wed give - the truth I replied. Every last nerve and neuron was frayed, I was not going to play Jackanory! The nurse explained that there was no way that the test would come back positive as escorts are professionals, not like the slappers down the pub - and itd be tough enough to get HIV from one of them.
We gave the test 30 minutes, its only meant to need 15 minutes, but we were in no rush. It was proven that I do not have HIV, the stupid man was elated, I wasnt, I knew I didnt have HIV.
We went to the cash point and he couldnt draw out the lunch-date fee of 500 for two hours private time and two hours for lunch. I didnt charge him for the extra hour, as it was now 5pm, the fact an HIV test is not a standard service, or the outcall charge. He gave me 250 and has promised to bring me the rest today. If he does not, I will visit the whole Book of Revelations upon him (its the only Book in the New Testament I like).
Today, I feel emotionally drained and have been turning down work. I cannot risk seeing anyone who would bring such chaos to my life. I might feel better tomorrow, but I might not ever feel better.
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Added on: 01/18/07 10:39
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This morning, I decided to spring clean my social life. Actually, I was not that proactive.
My closest friend in this industry is going through a major life change and her profile is changing so she wants to change her marketing. Fine, I said. Then I discussed the pitfalls of photos and websites and she came up with the GENIUS idea of using someone else's photos - not ones with a face, not other escorts, not ones that were published recently or in this country.... But my blood was already boiling. 18-months ago someone stole pictures from my website and it shocked me how horrible it felt to have my body and my identity appropriated by some other woman. I told her it was a disgusting thing to do and she thought I was being disloyal.
To me, the whole point of friends is allowing you to see the best of yourself while keeping your feet on the ground. Your friends can have crap taste in men and music, but you let those things slide because that can happen to the best of us. Your friends primary responsibility is to be different to my enemies. How can I complain about the cow who stole my photos if my friend does the same thing?!
With friends like that, I don't need enemies, do I?
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Added on: 01/16/07 10:03
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To the friggin Police! How in Hells Bells did you manage to annoy escorts, parlour girls, street walkers AND the Suffolk Strangler, yet fail to keep women safe?!
Its not just the Police in East Angular as Jade Goody calls it (you see, if you are a sex worker she w be considered your intellectual equal unless you have the impertinence to prove otherwise) who are completely unwilling or unable to do anything. If a sex worker has a stalker or is being harassed, the Police are very lax about addressing what they consider an inevitable occupational hazard, but will give you a paternalistic and patronising talk about alternative career options - as though all you do is sit there in your stockings and stillettoes waiting for your phone to ring. Escorts whove had bigger problems have told me that the police told them to consider themselves lucky to only have been raped. Then, when the Police need our help, they wonder why we dont want to talk to them! One cant help but suspect that the Police, and society at large, have transmitted the idea to the Sussex Strangler and his successors that sex-workers are disposable. I had a man, a reader of this blog, send me an email about him wanting to use me for a day, pay me 300 less than my advertised fee and instructing me that I would enjoy it. I cannot see how anyone who had read this blog could think that was viable, but years of socialisation cant be counterracted with a few hundred words.
The perception of Escorts as disposable is even more visible at this time of year. There are actually idiots out there who think that there is a price they can put on me being with my family on Christmas Day, and I am far from the only person receiving such perposterous propositions. It isnt a long leap of thought from the idea that your family wont mind your absence at Christmas to thinking that nobody would care if you were murdered. I know there are lots of lonely escorts in London who wont be able to spend Christmas with their loved ones, and some are permanantly estranged from their families. Interestingly enough, those women tend to take the greatest risks with their safety and be the most exploited.
One Escort told me yesterday that she was worried that the coverage of the murders was focusing on the victims as sex objects, which I hadnt considered until I realised that yesterday the only British paper that didnt have them on the front cover was the Star, which had Cheryl Cole. Todays covers had photographs of the victims and the Star had Leona from X-Factor. Sex sells newspapers as much as it ever did, but these young women were human beings who were greater than the sum of their private parts.
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Added on: 12/13/06 06:15
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is someone to do my baking for me. No, I love baking, but my life has been so hectic that I am 10 days behind on the Cake and Pudding front and I have had so many requests from friends and family. I had thought about baking for clients, but like Charlie Chaplin said - the saddest thing in life is getting accustomed to luxury, so no, Ill give them the best stuff the supermarkets can offer.
Anyway, on the subject of luxury - I have turned down two overnight bookings over the festive period so that I can go and sun myself, and visit my Grandfathers grave. My clients are generally wonderful people who do everything they can to make my time with them as enjoyable as possible. Yesterday, a guy called me up and asked me to invite a friend of mine to join us. I got paid to have a good time with a girl and a guy! I will not pretend that this is entirely or even remotely representative of the industry as a whole - a girl my age, with the same job as me, was found dead on Saturday morning. Gemma Adams, was human being, a woman who will clearly be missed by her friends, family and her boyfriend. Her friend, Tania Nichol has been missing for a month, and people are very concerned for her, but what really worries me is the Police. How can so many women be murdered or disappear in Ipswich? According to The Times, East Anglia Police are reviewing 4 unsolved murders over the past 15 years.
Unless the Police are trained to treat sexworkers with the respect and professionalism everyone should be able to expect from them, people who mistreat and murder sexworkers will act with impunity. I have met guys who expect to be able to walk roughshod over me, and they have been rather surprised that I would stand up to them. Maybe vulnerable sexworkers should be offered assertiveness and self-defence training.
All I want for Christmas is for other women to have the safety and peace of mind I enjoy oh, and world peace.
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Added on: 12/05/06 10:14
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Friendship is one of the most precious things in the world, right up there with health and freedom, and far more important than romance. Part of the reason I insist on clients giving me notice is because the time I spend with my friends is so valuable, and I do not feel that I should short-change my friends because somebody who is so disrespectful as to believe I have nothing better to do with my life than have sex with an inconsiderate person - I mean where is the fun in that?!
When I explained to yesterdays two inconsiderates that their behaviour seemed rude and thoughtless and they agreed that they wouldnt expect anything sprung on them in their professional lives, they both said men dont think when theyre horny or words to that effect. Sadly, I wasnt born yesterday and didnt believe a word of it. Before any more of you with slightly more intellect arrange to meet me so you can tell me that you have been trying to establish whether I like men or not, just imagine the amount of rubbish that good-for-nothing individuals try to feed me about all men in a disgraceful attempt to make themselves look good. This isnt a sales ploy blog; this is my way of letting off steam and trying to stay sane.
Anyway, enough about you, lets talk about me. My friends mean the world to me, and I have a huge amount of respect for them. For the record, some of my friends are clients, it keeps life interesting to have lots of different friends. It is precisely because I have so much respect for my friends that I will stand back and let them keep making the same mistakes, offering advice, tissues and chocolate when the house of cards collapses around their ears. One of my friends has been building a house of glass and I have supported her as best I could for as long as I could, but today I betrayed her and called in the cavalry for her own safety. I feel really bad, but I am prepared to sacrifice our friendship for her wellbeing. My discretion could have led to her emotional if not physical death. She has been hospitalised once already, but wouldnt've been had I spoken out earlier and saved her from this.
Being an adult, Im not meant to believe I can save people from themselves or prisons of their own creation, but I cant resign myself to the suffering of others.
I wish I could say I felt good about what Ive done, I wish I could say I was sorry, I wish I had the energy to do something other than sleep.
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Added on: 11/28/06 10:19
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When I meet a client for the first time, Im a big bundle of questions. Some questions Ill ask directly, like Would you like a shower? and Would you like a drink?, others I dont ask explicitly, but wil answer as the meeting progresses, like the clues he gives that he is about to cum - or the lack thereof. I guess a clients lifestory and personality fall into that category too.
The problem is, that lots of clients meet me and are convinced that they know me. I had one guy try to tell me the sort of school I went to, and the age at which I lost my virginity - both of which were wrong. A worryingly high proportion of men who can and do pay for my time have an archetypal woman in their heads and want me to be version 24.0 or somesuch, when all I am is me. All I want is for you guys to have some questions when you meet me, whatever conclusions youve reached on the basis of my blog, allow yourself some doubt. Dont paint me into a corner, Im claustrophobic.
People making assumptions about me, is relatively trivial, if frustrating, but people making assumptions about whole ethnic groups is dangerous. Rather a lot of the assumptions that are made about me reflect a degree of racial or ethnic bias, which is a shame, but still trivial.
British society is the best society in the world, we have the most racially integregated society in the world, and the highest rate of mixed-race children in the world (and a very high proportion of them are born to white women with the best educashun, educashun, education in the world, hair gelled to within a micron of its life, and living in the best shabby, vandalised social housing in the world), but all is not well in our concrete-and-tarmac Garden of Eden. Equal opportunties have reached the point where members of the BME (Black and Minority Ethnic, see we got branding too!) communities are now committing racially-motivated murders and attacks too. Some judges are allegedly too politically correct to call those crimes racially motivated and our media wont give such crimes enough coverage, supposedly because they are scared that it will bolster the BNP or something. People are now going crazy because they think that BME people have as much right to be racist as anyone else and should be given the recognition they deserve. This takes me back a few years, to 1996 in fact. I was in Clapham Junction with a group of girls from school and this guy was chatting me up, well as well as he could with his limited vocabulary, but he was a cute guy, so I was pleased. His proposed deal-maker was Im gonna be on TV soon you know, I was impressed and asked him to be more specific Crimewatch he replied. That was a deal breaker, I was and still am, to much of a nerd to be impressed by criminality, and I dont see being recognised as a criminal as a source of pride. Were white people proud of the killers of Anthony Walker and Stephen Lawrence? Do white people want to be seen as a group who can kill others for having different colouring to themselves? If the answer to both these questions is no, why should anyone else behave differently in this respect?
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Added on: 11/13/06 09:06
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Why do people say women are funny about ageing? There are a few men whom I have been seeing for more than a year who have not had a birthday, but seem perefctly human. These are people I have a fair amount of intimacy with, so I wouldnt be hurt if they didnt invite me to their parties, but Im surprised they havent mentioned a birthday - ever.
As always, theres always one who gets the rest into trouble and Im baking a cake for his forthcoming birthday, and hes bringing the booze. Getting older really does have its rewards!
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Added on: 10/20/06 08:54
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I had a call from a potential client last week when I was baking a cake. He wasnt very interesting, well nowhere near interesting enough to get me away from my cake. Then he decided to prove that he wasnt very clever either by telling me that I didnt look like the cake-baking type. I was furious, but I figured I should allow him to dig his own grave and asked him what women who baked cakes looked like. He explained that they looked like homely, country-women, not cosmopolitan women like me. I reminded him of the ethno-specificity of his idea of country-womanhood and told him that his notion couldnt help but exclude me on racial grounds. He couldnt deny that, coming as he did from an uneducated background.
It is unfair that pretty girls arent expected to be able to cook, bake, change a tyre or even construct a sentence. Hey, ugly women are even allowed to become beautiful swans with the right clothing and make-up! Men love to cause trouble by blaming women for being bitchy to each other, but too often they are the biggest stirrers of the lot.
Anyway, back to the cake. I am perfectly happy to share my cakes with NICE people. I dont think that a man eating a cake baked by another woman constitutes infidelity. The cruellest betrayal is when a man eats a cake baked by another woman and states publically that her cake is better than his wifes cake. That is cruel, nasty and unnecessary. It may seem a bit strange, but I felt much worse about a friend of mine saying that than I do about seeing married men.
I know its perverse, but the moral of the story is that if a woman parts with her cake, whether its to answer the phone or as a gesture of friendship, it brings pain.
Let me eat Cake!
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Added on: 09/28/06 08:45
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I am not prone to excessive guilt, but sometimes I cant help but feel guilty. This week I spent an afternoon with an escort who was covered in bruises because a client had been very rough with her. Shes slim, but not skinny, so she doesnt bruise from someone just brushing against her - which is occurs frequently with Anorexics, for example. She described the clients roughness to me and her fear that complaining to him would make him cause trouble for her, she was scared that complaining to her agency would mark her out as a troublemaker and get her less work.
I cannot even begin to describe how angry that makes me, nor could I even begin to describe what I would do so such a despicable creature, but believe me, he would curse the very stone from under which he slithered. That is precisely my point. It is because men know that I will not stand for any rubbish, they tend not to try it on with me, they mistreat the weak. The problem is that escorts like me, who are expressive and confident can give a certain impression of this industry, one in which the weak and vulnerable, cower silently in the background. Broadsides from the moral majority are correctly rebuffed by people like me, and my clients, but I feel that even that can provide cover for the vermin who attack and mistreat women.
Im not talking about the clumsy, who dont mean to cause pain, but whose technique is agonising, and trying to correct it is an exercise in delicate diplomacy.
I cant think of anything I can do to help that poor bruised escort, she has no choice but to stay here and work for as long as she can and deal with her mistreatment as best she can. My inability to change this proves that as strong as I think I am, I too, am weak.
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Added on: 08/17/06 07:26
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Ive had a pretty hectic day, but its been productive. I was walking down the road earlier with my mind on other things and two guys walked up to me and said we can see your nipples! I cringed, but I had on a jumper and a bra, so I thought they had to be joking, I told them that they were mistaken. No. Theyre well hard love! was their response, which embarassed me even more, because the last thing I wanted to be doing was discussing my nipples with a pair of strangers on a busy road in the middle of London.
If I were in escort mode, I would have cringed, but being in geeky mode made it absolutely horrifying. All I wanted to be was my brain, not my body. Generally, I can cope with the two aspects of my life and it helps stop me from becoming vain, but sometimes I feel trapped in a body that doesnt suit me, that makes people respond to me in ways I dont like. At times like that, I wish I was invisible, just a voice, only a sound, but often silence.
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Added on: 05/08/06 05:41
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Yesterday morning, when I was in the shower, I got a phonecall from the client who was the subject of my earlier blog. He reinstated the booking, I raced to the airport and hopped on a plane, now I'm here. He's a really nice guy, but he'd been really nervous about this whole thing going well, especially as this is his first such booking, and little hiccups that escorts adjust to seemed terrifying to him. He has been very calm and sweet since I got here, although he was wrong about the taxidrivers here not being like Mr Bean.
The crazy thing is that he looks a lot like a tutor I had the craziest crush on when I was at University, and he has an amazing record and CD collection. The weather isn't as good as I had hoped, but it's turned out well.
The whole girlfriend experience thing, isn't meant to include falling out with a nervous man and struggling with language difficulties, but sometimes it does, and the making up has been fun. He is also the first client to cook for me, and it was wonderful. I've baked in clients homes, yes I did bring the ingredients, so it's not that I'm asking for things I wouldn't offer clients. My key question now, is how closely can bookings simulate relationships, or flings, and do we want them to?
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Added on: 04/28/06 03:56
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