Cheating and the Ethical Sex Worker

I was asked on that lovely site formspring this question, which I get asked fairly often:

As an ethically non-monogamous/polyamorous individual who is also a sex worker, how do you feel about potentially enabling someone to cheat on their spouse?

This is an interesting one for me, as obviously my work involves a lot of guys whose partner has no idea they're sleeping with anyone else- never mind a sex worker! That said, not all my clients are in that situation- my last one was here on his business and apparently his girlfriend, who is also a sex worker, recommended he come to me, and before that I had a couple clients who were single. Interestingly, when I was doing one hour incalls, I had a lot more clients who had partners.

Anyway, this is also something I dealt with a lot in polyamory. Obviously, it's great when you can speak to the other lover/s, but that isn't always part of their agreements. You kind of have to trust that when the person you're dating/casually sleeping with says "this is ok and within the boundaries of my commitments", they're telling you the truth. I've definitely been on the "other woman" side of agreements that were not well-negotiated or not discussed, and it sucks, for everyone involved.

Now, generally, in those situations, where you have a V- two people connected by a common lover- if one person on the end of the V feels like they haven't been getting the full story, or the care they need, they will blame the person on the other end of the V. This is the "other woman" story- the "other woman" is stealing him away, the "other woman" seduced him, etc. Many crimes of passion, and movies showing such,  involve the two women fighting while the guy sits back and takes little if any of the blame.

I hate that.

I mean, I get it, definitely- it's easier to be angry at this other person, that you have no connection to or feelings for, than it is to be angry at the person you love. However, personally, I decided a long time ago that, if I was in that V situation as an end point, I would make sure that I directed my anger/hurt at the shared lover, not the "other woman".  Because it was my lover who wasn't being upfront, my lover who wasn't checking in, my lover who had a commitment to at least negotiate what our boundaries were- not the other person, who may or may not even know me. 

With that in mind, with the question of cheating, I also decided that I wasn't going to take ethical responsibility for someone else's commitments. To be cold about it- that's not my problem. If they're choosing to cheat, or lie, or if they got permission, whatever- that's a discussion for them to have with their partner. Cheating sucks, dishonesty sucks, but it's not my ethical responsibility to make sure my clients are behaving appropriately.

Never mind that all that's on a moral level- also, quite frankly, I'm doing my job. My job is to provide pleasure and self discovery to my client, not to wrangle his personal affairs. Just as it's not a bartender's responsibility to make sure her customers aren't alcoholics. She can only provide for her customers as safely and responsibly as she can. Similarly, I can only provide my clients with safer sex, make sure I'm healthy, and encourage my clients to try talking to their partners about their desires, give them ways to try to bridge the gap. And that's where my responsibility begins and ends, I think.

Tough stuff, for sure, but making for an interesting blog!

Time Out London

Following on the heels of my last post about home... see my room for yourself!

I'm very excited to say I'll be in Time Out London this week, April 29th. Squee!

In addition, I'll be interviewed by Sarah Grimstone on Thursday- will update with link, if there is one.

And I'm up for an erotic award for my brainchild, the Ladies High Tea and Pornography Society, on Friday! Wish me luck!

That is all. For now.

a sense of place

I'm a little punk rock. Just a bit- enough that I've dumper dived, and sat on the corner asking for spare change, and I've gotten into questionable political activism, survived within underground economies, done urban exploration, shit like that. But there's one thing that always prevented me from squatting, and made me hate couchsurfing.

I like to have a home. A little corner, somewhere, that's mine, that I can take care of, that I can decorate and make into my homebase. 

And there's friends I've stayed with that I feel at home with- Syph, and H, and my mad community in Krakow. It's certainly been a godsend that I'm lucky enough to have had places to crash when I've needed them. There's a kittybed in Massachusetts that I feel incredibly safe snuggled into. But you get into this weird feeling, living out of bags, moving from place to place, never settling in, never establishing roots. Even when I had apartments in London, it's been a transitional space, whether for a year, or for a few months. I've felt on the move for a long while. 

Finally, I think I've settled down.

A friend in SF recommended I meet a friend of him from Twitter, and from there I went to a party and met her. I was couchsurfing at the time, and she said I might be able to chill out on their couch for some time.

And then they had a room free. And, scrambling, I got the rent together, barely. And I moved into the first place I've been in London where I felt I could stay, where I felt at home, like I could be myself and do what I love and have a taste of San Francisco. Never mind that it wasn't far from my other friends, or that there was an adorable cat, and that my housemates were creative, inspiring, fascinating people I liked chatting with. Those were unexpected bonuses.

I spent a good portion of this week moving things in, decorating, painting my walls like a crazy person, and putting stuff away. I watched my creativity blossom and expand, my energy go up, my Domme side returning (and how!).

Sometimes you don't realize how depressed you felt until you're out of it. I didn't know how much I was bummed out, how listless I felt. But now, I feel like singing as I look out of my skylight into a blue sky unmarred by airplane trails, thanks to Iceland's volcanic ash. I wake up earlier than I ever have, and feel like eating, and being productive, and Getting Shit Done. I feel like I can conquer the world. 

This all springs to mind as Time Out London came to interview me and take a photo of me in my room for a spread they're doing on Londoners in their bedrooms. It comes out, not this Tuesday, but the next (I believe). I felt proud to show off my room, my little haven. I'm excited to spend time there, and I'm endlessly happy to fall into bed there. 

As easy as that, London has welcomed me home.