Eyes Wide Shut- FAIL

I turned it off after the bit that goes something like this:

Man 1- That beautiful woman? The one whose well being you cared about? I'm sorry, but she was... a HOOKER!

(camera pans to Man 2, who looks shocked, then his face falls as he realizes that he was caring about, apparently, a second class human.)

So. Sick. Of. This. Stereotype.

"Oh, she's a hooker, therefore all her feelings are faked/she got what she deserved/she cannot love, or give of herself intimately, and is therefore worthless".

Bah!

Orgasmatronic

Calico posted a blog a bit ago about orgasm, and how there's lots of ways to have sexual fun without orgasm being the goal, or even the point.

I have to say. For me, within a sexual encounter? I want to have an orgasm. Do I need it? No. But I do want it, and if my orgasm isn't forthcoming more often than it is, then I tend to feel a bit... unfulfilled. And more to the point, I'm horny and alert til that orgasm comes. Additionally, if kink is involved, I'm a lot more tolerant of multiple things (feet, for example, or pain... thanks, G, all I wank to now is spanking/anal smut now, sheesh) I otherwise wouldn't choose.

Now. The guy ejaculating? Not so big of a deal, though, again, if it doesn't happen more often than it does it's hard for me not to feel a little insecure about my abilities. However, if he's happy not having orgasmed, I'll generally feel ok letting it go. I do enjoy it when he tells me to tell him when to cum (and, yeah, I know, it's a smutty spelling, but "come" just doesn't look right to me) and since it's pretty easy for me after the first couple of orgasms to hold off til he tells me he's about to cum himself, I like to wait til he does. Yeah, it's corny, but I love the energy rush when we orgasm together, and, well, after a few myself I don't mind being patient.

I remember being asked why cumming was so important to me, since yeah, sex is fun whether or not you get to an orgasm. Granted, the guy who asked me that generally DID cum during our sexual encounters, so, yeah. I thought he'd understand. It may not be altogether right, but someone making sure that they listen and do the things I need to cum myself, or at least try to get me there, suggests to me that they're paying attention to my needs. I appreciate that.

Maybe it's partially cause of work, again, where I get loads of clients who want to get me off with oral stimulation (which, btw, never works, I don't care how good your tongue is) and they don't really want to hear that them sucking a strap on or whimpering in pain is more likely to make me cum than licking my pussy. One thing that separates my lovers from my clients is that my lovers genuinely want to make me happy and please me... my clients want reassurance that they can make a woman quiver with excitement. At heart, it's about them.

So yeah. I want to cum during sexual and/or kinky play, damn skippy! Anyway, who DOESN'T like sleeping in the wet spot. ;)

geeks need love and sex too

I'm watching "Eyes Wide Shut" for the first time. I have no idea if I'll finish it, as it seems long and I find Tom Cruise incredibly creepy.Not terribly impressed so far, but eh, we'll see. It seems like one of those movies you have to watch if you watch sexuality-related films. While so far it seems sorta meh, I do like Nicole Kidman naked except for glasses.

Anyway.

I spent the afternoon having a picnic outside with my favourite client who's also just a good friend. We had sushi and tempura, chatted a lot about all sorts of stuff, and snuggled while watching some IT Crowd. Fun times! It was really what I needed, some extended snuggling. Yay. :)

Then, I made the mistake of looking to see if the thing I was interviewed for was up. I was told, at the time, that it was going to be an interview for the Guardian (yay!) and the Sunday Star (gah), but was reassured that it wasn't a sensation piece and that they were genuinely interested in what I had to say.

You know what's coming, yeah?

Classy journalism at its best.

Totally misquoted, quoted out of context, and totally missing the fact that I'm a geek too, hence why I attract smart, geeky clients. ::sigh:: To be expected, though. I *am* however glad to see that the way this is construed points out that the laws to criminalize clients will just make things harder for good, polite, normal people, not the sort of criminal assholes who traffick women.

It's something, I guess...

emotional broadband

Intimacy isn't difficult for me to access. I've believed it was because of my empathy, or because I'm lonely/clingy, because of my time in SF where that's more common or because of my time in the hospital where you made great friends and lost them in days. You never really knew when you'd see someone again, so why wish you had gotten to know them better when you could just invest the time? What's there to lose, really?

This probably makes me good at my job, because I can connect quickly and easily to a fair number of types of people. One of the things I hear the most often is that I make them feel comfortable in a way that other girls haven't before. I connect, not on an artificial level, not as an aritifical persona, but on a real level, as me. I'm not faking, not pretending- this is it. This is who and how I am.

But in my personal relationships- with my friends, casual play partners, lovers- this is Very Scary. Maybe it's because it's a foreign concept. Maybe it's because they've taught themselves to be shielded, learned that was how to play emotionally safe. Maybe they'd prefer that I kept this stuff to myself, was more closed off, more of a challenge. Maybe it's because I'm actually a crazy stalker girl at heart, and doing this is crazy, or unhealthy, or just Wrong on some level. I'm not sure. I'm not honestly sure if it's something I can control and fence off, or if this sort of connection is just my nature. I worry that I'll spend my life chasing an intimacy others just aren't capable of.

In general, I'd say that this openness of heart is adventageous. I like caring about people. I like being in touch with my emotions. I'm still learning how to share without spewing, for sure, but I'm happy with myself, really. It's not coming from a place of lack within myself as far as I can tell. These connections are important to me, and important for my emotional well-being. I don't know if it's something I could change, or would want to.

When I was growing up, I seriously believed I must be from another dimension or something. Sometimes I look at how people act and react and feel so distant from it I wonder if we're the same general makeup. It's like that with this emotional broadband, this fast-speed connection- it comes so easily and truly to me that I just don't get how other people struggle with it, or why. And that just adds another layer to the feeling of isolation.

I've noticed a real fear of how much I like the people I've met/played with/hang out with here in London. I'm scared of being hurt again, but also scared to not let my heart be open and have a connection, even for a little while, that's amazing. Ultimately, I find that worth it. Still, I'm running scared... and I wonder if it'll ever get better.

Is it love for the universe? Or insanity?

Who can tell?

the dirty little secret

I think everyone has one of these. That little thing we don't want anyone to see, or hear, or know about. Psychological, physical, emotional... it could be Britney Spears on a hipster's ipod, or Gor in a feminist's bookshelf. For one lover, it was the thigh highs he stuck in the corner of his sock drawer... for another, it was the chest of toys and costumes he hid under his bed, meticulous about making sure that no angle would betray the contents. A lesbian I dated was embarrassed by the gay male porn she watched. I know for me it's my smut- poorly written filth is the only thing that gets me off when I reach for the hitachi, leaving my Anais Nin, Pat Califia, and Carol Queen proudly displayed, but passed over when I want to cum.

I appreciate the world of the dirty little secret, for sure. I love it when a lover holds my chin, makes me look him in the eyes, and tell him what sort of stories I was reading the night before. I like that I have something to feel humilated around. I love making someone confess their own secrets.

But I hate- HATE- being that secret myself.

The nature of my work, and the nature of who and how I am as a person, tends to lend itself to the concept that I'm the one you call up for a booty call, not the one you introduce to your friends. I don't mind not being the person who meets your parents- you won't likely meet mine anyway- but I want to have photos of us hanging out, I want to be invited to things with you and your buddies. I want you to admit you know me, even to be proud you know me. I don't want to be in your sock drawer or under your bed.

One of the things the hooker says in the movie I watched yesterday is "I'm a REAL PERSON". I think this is probably the hardest thing for me to cope with, not just as a sex worker, but as a polyamorous queer kinkster. Because so much of my life is about sexuality, people tend to forget I'm not just a walking real doll- and I'm more sensitive than, perhaps, I should be around people's reactions and responses to me engaging in other parts of their life.

It's not just a thing with lovers, either, though it hits harder there- friends, too. I guess I hate the feeling of being hidden away. Because being the dirty little secret means shame- and I don't want someone to feel ashamed to admit they know me, or play with me, or care about me.

(cue some Smiths song)

the two way mirror of sex work

I'm watching a movie called "City Rats" and thinking about how prostitution is portrayed in the media. It's a pretty good flick- beautifully shot, and one I would watch again, actually- but it has the same idea as many of them do, that of sex worker as either tragic figure or money-grabber, as damaged, as jaded, and bored.

My impression of my work is that I am a two way mirror. Sometimes, clients want a reflection of their desires, with very little of my personality involved- like how, if there's light on the client's said of the mirror, then it works as a mirror, and they don't see me. But other times, they prefer their side a bit darker, and my side lit- and then the mirror works like a window, instead, where I get to shine.

Maybe part of my problem is that I haven't been jaded. I get pretty emotionally involved in my work, hence why I work infrequently, and work with people I enjoy seeing multiple times. I genuinely care about my clients, and they generally genuinely care about me- I don't pretend to be heterosexual, or interested in cunnilingus, when I'm not. My clients are mostly average- I've never had one that's ugly, really, just ok looking, and sometimes very hot! I don't get overly intimate, most of the time, though there is one man I see I would call a close friend as well as a client- but I do share of myself, as I'm happy to offer that.

Not everyone is, to be fair, and they don't have to be, don't get me wrong. It's just not my MO to keep those fences up. This has worked against me, for sure- my relationship with Sh may have been best left as a professional one, and I doubt I'll go so far as to take my professional life personal again. I guess, while I don't feel the need for those strict boundaries, there is often a reason why these men come to a sex worker, and not a girlfriend- the boundaries are for their sake, too, not just mine. And maybe that's what I wish you saw more in media- that it's the clients who need that space and distance, as much if not more than the sex workers.

The money affects me mainly because I can then stop for a while if I get burnt out, which really just gives me an advantage over other workers. If you get sick working in an office, you can't really take a month off, you know? You just stick through it, and get restless.

The other thing that gets me, and has before this movie, is the idea that sex workers cannot love/have intimate relationships because of their personal issues, generally implied to have been brought about by work. Let me share what has been affected by my work-

-I suspect my lovers tend to consider me the girl you have fun kinky sex with, but not someone you get emotionally attached to, because I'm a sex worker (and also polyamorous, but that's another blog).

-sometimes I get selfish about what I want sexually because my work is about focusing on other people getting off... or sometimes I don't want sex at all because I'm starved for other intimacies.

-sometimes work gets me crazy turned on and I want a lot more sex! Sometimes I want a followup session to my work sessions.

-often I want more head petting and affection. I've found myself also drawn a lot more to the submissive play I do with G- I think the catharsis is helpful, somehow.

-I end up needing to date people who are happy to hear about other relationships, otherwise, I can't bitch about work!

-I've found I enjoy keeping a few types of kinky play just between me and my lovers, not with clients, so there are some "special", "just us" stuff.

-I've more vocal in bed about what I like and don't like, and negotiate better in general- if I'm not having my needs acknowledged, I expect to at least be getting paid.

That's some of it. I'm sure there's more, maybe I'll add to it as I go along. But no, being a sex worker doesn't mean you have to be less emotionally intimate with lovers. Maybe it does if you want monogamous partnership. Not been my experience though! We're people, not exclusively fantasy objects, and as such we have our own needs and lives. Why wouldn't we just due to our jobs?

exit, stage left

Today's metaphor: plugging something into a socket. You try it once, twice, three times, and it's unresponsive. Maybe it works, once, to give you hope, then not again. Then, you plug something in, cause, well, maybe this time it'll work, and it sparks and blows out the whole circuit.

That was my night last night in S's flat, which I feel horribly guilty about, though a phone call from Mo (helpfully brought about by J) reassured me that it sounded like a bad socket, not something I actively messed up. It's being taken care of, and S was a dear, not mad or anything- we're sorting it out. Crisis averted.

However, this incident sounds achingly familiar to the meeting I had earlier that day with TB, whom I've decided needs a different nickname as he is no longer a thingboy and tuberculosis is too romantic an illness for him. Therefore, he will hereafter be Sh, for shingles.

Anyway. It's more drama, constant drama. And as much as it frustrated me that he continually struggled with how we met- now I'm beginning to think it really did make a difference, and I doubt more and more that I would ever take a professional relationship personal again. Meeting people at work? Overrated. Yes, I wanted us to stay friends, yes, I thought we could, but it's become clear that he wants to stay in contact to either add to his own suffering or try to make me suffer with him. I'm interested in neither.

We kept finding resolution and then he'd get upset again. I think Sh wants, maybe even needs me to react more than I am, but I can't and won't. Like the socket, I keep trying, and sometimes it's ok and usually it's not- I'm just not sure I'll know, really, when the socket blows.

I said to him I wanted us to start over. I reiterated that I would not play with him until he could come to me and say yes, this is what he wanted, and knew who he was. He says he doesn't want to play ever again. For me, I rarely close a door, but I get closer and closer to it. He seems inclined to blame me for all his current suffering, which won't get him far in terms of healing it. And I can't help anymore.

So, another chapter closed, I suppose. Sh told me to move on, and I am. I wish he would too, but that's not my problem.

things? they don't actually suck.

After having written my last blog, I've thought a lot about what's been going right in my life. Cause, well, it's certainly not all doom and gloom- it's actually quite lovely at the moment! I consider myself an incredibly lucky girl.

-I've started "officially" dating Mo, as a Real Live Girlfriend. I adore him. He's incredibly supportive, sexy as all hell, sweet, caring, and I truly love him. He loves me back, and it scares me sometime how normal it all is, how nondramatic... but this is growing up, and growing forward. I'm very, very happy, and consider myself incredibly lucky to have such an amazing man at my side. Yay!

-I made it back to London, and am staying with S as I figure out a room. Imight be able to avoid it by staying at the incall, which would be nice in some ways but kinda annoying in others. However, S has been an excellent host, truly lovely, and staying with him has been a treat for sure. It's definitely nice to be centrally located as well!

-H and I had a lovely scene over the weekend- she stayed with me for an overnight and we went to a club called Subversion, which was fun. I dressed as a lamb, she as the Cheshire Cat, and we met a lovely guy there who helped coTop and spanked her til her ass was a delicious shade of red and purple. H is someone I initially played with along with TB, but they fell out fairly soon after he and I did... I don't mind, as having her to myself has been a treat. It's nice to have a cute girl to play with and hang out with, and we get on pretty well.

I'm actually writing this as I'm off on a train to see her in her town, near Swindon, where I've never been. I'm excited to see her on her home turf, see her art in person, snuggle her and add to the bruising. Yum. I'm one lucky girl.

-In the breakup of the situation with TB, H and I decided I had an opening for a straight boy, and proceeded to explore Informed Consent for someone suitably dandyish and sexy. H found me a boy, a very sexy boy who dresses fabulously, is about as close to a flaming gay man as you can get while still having sex with girls, with talented fingers and black rimmed glasses. H, I owe you something incredible, as I think you have found me someone ideal- I couldn't dream up someone better. We met up and got on swimmingly, then I had a playdate with him Sunday. A pile of laundry and a belly full of bacon later, I think we have a winner for sure. I'm easy to please. Mostly. ;) Pillow talk about illnesses led to his nickname for this blog- G for Gout, the illness of libertines.

-I also got to see and snuggle with my favourite client, who is just lovely. Every time I see him I feel recharged, and happy, because he's respectful and kind and thoughtful. Again, I'm a lucky girl, to have these wonderful people in my life in their various capacities.

-And finally, in spite of what could've been a dramatic situation with D, a friend of mine and TB's and a Domme in her own right, we've sorted out our differences and moved on, which is really nice. I've always struggled to have female friends, and to have one as solid and no-bullshit as her really enriches my life.

-Also, can someone please call me poppet?

So, while it hurts, how things with E and things with TB ended... I have, as always, a really good life, and while it'll likely be complicated as I won't be getting the fiance visa after all, Mo has promised to help me make whatever decisions I make a reality as best he can- and with support like this, who needs drama?

actually, all the world is NOT a stage, and this isn't drama class.

I've recently had to hurt two people I care pretty deeply for in the interest of my personal sanity, and cutting the dramatic out of my life as much as I possibly can. I have no doubt in my heart it was the right thing to do, on both counts, but that doesn't make it any easier, really.

First, I got my stuff at last from TB. Standing in his room, looking at him, I realized that either I didn't love him anymore, or that I had shut my love away so deeply that it couldn't surface and hurt me again. All I wanted to do was get away. It rips at me, because TB... well, I loved him passionately, but I don't think we're good for each other, at least not now. We chatted formally, and I tried offering up some small intimacies, but he was closed off. Maybe it's still too soon. I miss him, but I think I miss the TB I knew months ago. I feel guilty- I don't know if I really did break him, or broke him further, or if he came broken. I want to make things right between us. At the same time, I don't think he's healthy for me, and I don't really trust him. I'm still hurt, deep down.

Then, after E twittered about moving out of London in two weeks, I split with him. Yes, we're no longer engaged. I feel awful about it, though I've tried to be flippant, but I really hoped we could make things work. However, he just proved again that he would rather sabotage than try to fix things, and this time I had to let him win and leave. I feel like if I didn't walk he would respect me less, and I was tired of trying to keep up with his moods.

While I know these were two important moves for me as a person, it was still difficult, and I still think I'm unsettled about both situations. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is let someone go, I guess...