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Thread: What the hell are these guys thinking?

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    Newbie belledujour27's Avatar
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    Default What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Just because I do GFE, does NOT mean I'm actually your girlfriend now. Please don't start randomly texting me asking how I am or if I'd like to go out for coffee then get offended when I tell you how much per hour it'll be for that. Or, not understanding why I won't tell you where I live so you can pick me up for a 'really special date' you have planned for just the two of us, and then, again, get offended or pissed, when I tell you how much it'll cost for that.

    FFS, guys, get a damned clue. If you hadn't of been paying me, I probably would not have been that nice to you when we met.


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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    How annoying. The texts, pic requests.. I realized that all that should only go to a very small, select VIP clients.

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    God/dess kortneykay's Avatar
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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Change your contact info to email only.




    Believe In Your Brand



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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    It sounds like you are in a small market. You need to teach these guys the rules. Be firm but nice. You could drive away some good ones. I agree with email only. Offer a "Night on the Town" package that is a bit cheaper than your normal rates for time out and time in.

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    so true girl. That's why I have 2 phones!

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    I got rid of my work phone and it saved me a lot of the texting for no reason hassle and it weeds out more prank phone calls and timewasters IMO. Well, technically I left it at home on the bean bag chair and my dad found it a long time ago so he took it *blushes*. Never replaced it again though.

    Quote Originally Posted by belledujour27 View Post
    Just because I do GFE, does NOT mean I'm actually your girlfriend now. Please don't start randomly texting me asking how I am or if I'd like to go out for coffee then get offended when I tell you how much per hour it'll be for that. Or, not understanding why I won't tell you where I live so you can pick me up for a 'really special date' you have planned for just the two of us, and then, again, get offended or pissed, when I tell you how much it'll cost for that.

    FFS, guys, get a damned clue. If you hadn't of been paying me, I probably would not have been that nice to you when we met.

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    What's funny is, a potential vanilla girlfriend can't get these guys to even text them back "fine, how are you" but they insist on bugging the girl they're paying. Men.

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    I'm such a paranoid cynic that I actually think guys want these texts to leave in the phone in order to spur a breakup, should their partner ever snoop. (On "Seinfeld" the character George Costanza fabricated an affair to spur his partner into leaving so he didn't have to be the bad guy & initiate the breakup.)
    Last edited by SnuffleUffleGrass; 04-21-2016 at 02:52 PM.

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Interesting, I happen to read about this letter.








    FOR YOU, WHO BUY SEX

    By Tanja Rahm

    Dear sex customer,

    If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast. Do not confuse that with easy money, it was never easy. Fast, yes. Because I quickly learned the many tricks to get you to come as quickly as possible, so I could get you off of me, or from under me, or from behind me.

    And no, you never turned me on during the act. I was a great actress. For years I have had the opportunity to practice for free. Actually, it falls under the concept of multitasking. Because while you lay there, my thoughts were always elsewhere. Somewhere where I was not confronted with you sucking out my self respect, without spending as much as ten seconds on the reality of the situation, or to look me in the eye.

    If you thought you were doing me a favour by paying me for thirty minutes or an hour, you were wrong. I would rather have had you in and out as fast as possible. When you thought yourself to my holy saviour, asking what a pretty girl like me was doing in a place like that, you lost your halo when you proceeded to ask me to lie down on my back, and then put all your efforts into feeling my body as much as possible with your hands. Actually, I would have preferred if you had gotten down on your back and had let me do my job.

    When you thought you could boost your masculinity by getting me to climax, you need to know that I faked it. I could have won a gold medal in faking it. I faked it so much, that the receptionist would nearly fall off of her chair laughing. What did you expect? You were perhaps number three, or number five, or eight that day. Did you really think I was able to get turned on mentally or physically by having sex with men I did not choose myself? Not ever. My genitals were burning. From lubricant and condoms. And I was tired. So tired, that often I had to be careful not to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep while my moaning continued on autopilot.

    If you thought you paid for loyalty or small talk, you need to think again. I had zero interest in your excuses. I did not care that your wife had SPD, and that you just could not go without sex. Or when you offered any other pathetic excuse for coming to buy sex with me. When you thought I understood you and had sympathy for you, it was all a lie. I had nothing but contempt for you, and at the same time you destroyed something inside of me. You sowed the seeds of doubt in me. Doubt as to whether all men were just as cynical and unfaithful as you were.

    When you praised my appearance, my body, or my sexual abilities, you could just as well have vomited on me. You did not see the person behind the mask. You only saw that which confirmed your illusion of a raunchy woman with an unstoppable sex drive. In fact, you never said what you thought I wanted to hear. Instead, you said what you yourself needed to hear. You said that, which was needed to preserve your illusion, and which prevented you from thinking about how I had ended up where I was at twenty years of age. Basically you did not care at all. Because you had one goal only, and that was to show off your power by paying me to use my body as it pleased you.

    When a drop of blood appeared on the condom, it was not because my period had just come. It was because my body was a machine, one that could not be interrupted by a monthly cycle, so I inserted a sponge into my vagina, when I menstruated. To be able to continue on the sheets. And no, I did not go home after you had finished. I continued working, telling the next customer exactly the same story that you had heard. You were all so consumed with your own lust that a little menstrual blood did not stop you.

    When you came with objects, lingerie, costumes or toys, and wanted erotic role-play, my inner machine took over. I was disgusted with you and your sometimes quite sick fantasies. The same goes for the times when you smiled and said that I looked like a seventeen-year-old girl. It did not help that you yourself were fifty, sixty, seventy, or older.

    When you regularly violated my boundaries by either kissing me, or inserting our fingers into me, or taking off your condom, you did it knowing perfectly well that it was against the rules. You were testing my ability to say no. And you enjoyed it when I did not object clearly enough, or when I too often would simply ignore it. And then you used it in a perverted way to show how much power you had and that you could cross my boundaries. When I finally told you off, and made it clear that I would not have you as a customer again if you could not respect the rules, you insulted me and my role as prostitute. You were condescending, threatening and rude.

    When you buy sex, it says a lot about you, your humanity, and your sexuality. To me, it is a sign of your weakness, even though you confuse it with a sick sort of power and status. You think you have a right. I mean, the prostitutes are out there anyway, right? But they are only prostitutes because men like you stand in the way of healthy and respectful relationship between men and women. Prostitutes only exist because men like you feel you have the right to satisfy your sexual urges using the orifices of other people’s bodies. Prostitutes exist because you and your peers feel that your sexuality requires access to sex whenever it suits you. Prostitutes exist because you are a misogynist, and because you are more concerned with your own sexual needs than the relationships, in which your sexuality could actually flourish.

    When you buy sex, it reveals that you have not found the core within your own sexuality. I feel sorry for you, I really do. That you are so mediocre that you think that sex is all about ejaculating into a stranger’s vagina. And if one is not handy, it is never further away than down the street, where you can pay an unknown woman to be able to empty yourself into a rubber while inside of her. What a petty and frustrated man you must be. A man unable to create profound and intimate relationships, in which the connection runs deeper than just your ejaculation. A man, who expresses his feelings through his climaxes, who does not have the ability to verbalise them, but prefers to channel them through his genitals to get rid himself of them. What a weak masculinity. A truly masculine man would never degrade himself by paying for sex.

    As far as your humanity goes, I believe in the good in people, also in you. I know that deep down you have a conscience. That you have quietly wondered whether what you did was ethically and morally justifiable. I also know that you defend your actions and likely think that you treated me well, were kind, never mean or did not violate my boundaries. But you know what? That is called evading your responsibility. You are not confronting reality. You delude yourself in thinking that the people, you buy, are not bought. Not forced into prostitution. Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.

    I have many experiences from prostitution. They enable me to write this letter to you. But it is a letter, which I would much rather not have written. These are experiences I wish I could have avoided.

    You of course you thought of yourself as one of the nice customers. But there are no nice customers. Just those who confirm the women’s negative view of themselves.

    Take my hand and see me for the person I am on the inside. Let us go together to make a difference in the future. Let us raise our voices to our friends, our girlfriends, our business associates, our bosses, our politicians, and last but not least, to the prostituted. Let us raise our voices together and say that sex is private. Let us shout that sex is not a product on a shelf, but that it can cost dearly if it is treated as one. Let us scream to the world that money and sex do no belong together, and that sex belong to all together different and mutually reciprocal relationships. Because in this case, you will re-concur my respect and I will see you as the person you are, and not just as a buyer of sex, seduced by an illusion.

    Yours truly,
    Tanja Rahm
    I like being alone, I just don't like being lonely.




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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Lieber Sex-Käufer,

    falls Du glaubst, dass ich jemals Lust auf Dich hatte, liegst Du schrecklich falsch. Nicht ein einziges Mal bin ich mit Lust zu meinem Job gegangen. Das Einzige, was mich beschäftigt hat, war, schnelles Geld zu verdienen. Verwechsle das nicht mit leicht, denn leicht war das nicht. Aber schnell, ja. Weil ich viele Tricks lernte, wie Du so schnell wie möglich kommst – sodass ich Dich, auf mir, unter mir oder hinter mir, so schnell wie möglich wieder loswerden konnte.

    Nein, auch während des Sex empfand ich keine Lust. Ich war nur gut darin, Dir das vorzuspielen, weil ich das viele Jahre lang umsonst üben konnte. Tatsächlich kann man das auch als Multitasking bezeichnen, denn während Du da lagst, waren meine Gedanken an einem anderen Ort. Ein Ort, an dem ich mich nicht darum kümmern musste, dass ich es Dir erlaubt hatte, meine Selbstachtung aus mir herauszusaugen.

    Wenn Du geglaubt hast, dass Du mir einen Gefallen getan hast, weil Du mich für eine halbe oder ganze Stunde bezahlt hast, irrst Du Dich. Ich wollte Dich nämlich nur schnell rein und schnell wieder raus haben.

    Wenn Du geglaubt hast, Du wärst ein Heiliger, weil du mich fragtest, was so ein niedliches Mädchen wie ich denn da mache, dann hast Du Deinen Heiligenschein verloren, als Du mich kurz darauf gebeten hast, mich auf den Rücken zu legen – um dann durch Deine Berührungen meinen Körper mit blauen Flecken zu markieren, als sei es Dein Revier. Ich habe es vorgezogen, wenn Du Dich flach hinlegtest und mich meinen Job machen ließt.

    Wenn Du geglaubt hast, Du könntest bei mir Deine Männlichkeit stärken, indem Du versuchtest, mir einen Orgasmus zu bescheren, dann solltest Du wissen, dass ich Dir den Höhepunkt goldmedaillenreif vorgespielt habe. Ich habe ihn so gut gefälscht, dass die Telefonistin am Empfang vor Lachen fast vom Sofa fiel, wenn ich aus dem Laden ging. Womit hattest Du denn gerechnet?

    Ich hatte nur Verachtung für Dich übrig

    Du warst vielleicht Nummer drei, Nummer fünf oder Nummer acht an diesem Tag. Glaubtest Du wirklich, dass ich mental oder physisch angetörnt werden kann von einem Mann, den ich mir nicht selbst ausgesucht habe? O nein. Mein Unterleib brannte. Von Gleitcreme und Kondomen.

    Und ich war müde. So müde, dass ich mich zwingen musste, die Augen offen zu halten, während mein Gestöhne routiniert ablief.

    Falls Du geglaubt hast, dass Du für ein freundliches Schwätzchen oder für Loyalität bezahlt hast, dann musst Du umdenken. Deine Verteidigungsreden waren mir gleichgültig. Ob nun Deine Frau eine Beckenringlockerung hatte und Du ja nicht ohne Sex auskommen konntest oder Du andere dämliche Erklärung für Deinen Besuch bei mir und die Tatsache hattest, dass Du mich für Sex bezahlt hast. Wenn Du geglaubt hast, dass ich dafür Verständnis hatte, dann log ich. Ich hatte nur Verachtung für Dich übrig. Gleichzeitig hast Du etwas in mir zerstört, du hast nämlich Zweifel in mir gesät.

    Zweifel, dass alle Männer so zynisch und untreu sind wie Du. Wenn Du mein Aussehen gelobst hast, meinen Körper oder meine sexuellen Fähigkeiten, hättest Du genauso gut auf mich spucken können. Du hast nicht den Menschen dahinter gesehen. Du hast nur das gesehen, was Deiner Illusion der geilen Frau mit der nicht zu stoppenden Sexlust entspricht.

    Die Dinge, die ich hören wollte, hast Du einfach nicht gesagt. Im Gegenteil: Du hast nur das gesagt, was Du selbst hören wolltest. Dinge, die Deine Vorstellungen bestätigten und die bewirkten, dass Du der Frage aus dem Weg gehen konntest, wie ich im Alter von 20 Jahren dort gelandet war. Das war Dir völlig egal. Denn Du hattest nur ein Ziel: Deine Macht zu beweisen, indem Du mich bezahlst und meinen Körper benutzt, wie es Dir gerade gefällt.

    Wenn plötzlich ein wenig Blut am Kondom klebte, lag es nicht nur an meiner Menstruation, die gerade eingesetzt hatte. Es lag daran, dass mein Körper eine Maschine war, die nicht einfach abgeschaltet werden konnte, nur weil ich so etwas wie einen Zyklus habe.

    Darum habe ich einen Naturschwamm in meinen Unterleib eingesetzt, damit ich mich weiter aufs Laken legen konnte. O nein, ich ging nicht nach Hause, nachdem Du nach Hause gegangen bist. Ich habe weitergearbeitet und dem nächsten Kunde genau die gleiche Geschichte erzählt. Und Ihr wart alle zusammen so von Eurer eigenen Geilheit besessen, dass Ihr Euch auch nicht von einem kleinen Tropfen Blut stoppen ließt.

    Du warst drohend und grob

    Wenn Ihr mit verschiedenen Hilfsmitteln, mit Unterwäsche oder Sexspielzeug gekommen seid und erotische Rollenspiele spielen wolltet, hat die Maschine in mir übernommen. Ich ekelte mich vor Euch und vor Euren teilweise kranken Fantasien. Das habe ich auch getan, wenn Ihr über Euer ganzes Gesicht gegrinst und behauptet habt, dass ich wie eine 17-Jährige aussehe. Dass Ihr weit über 50, 60 oder 70 Jahre alt wart, hat es nicht besser gemacht.

    Wenn Du in regelmäßigen Abständen versucht hast, meine Grenzen zu überschreiten, indem Du mich geküsst oder Finger in mich gesteckt oder das Kondom ausgezogen hast – selbst wenn Du ganz genau wusstest, dass das nicht erlaubt war –, hast Du meine Fähigkeit getestet, mich zu wehren. Und Du hast es ausgenutzt, wenn ich nicht deutlich genug war oder viel zu nachsichtig. Das hast du auf eine kranke Weise ausgenutzt, wenn Du beim nächsten Mal ausprobiert hast, wie viel Macht Du hattest und wie weit Du meine Grenzen überschreiten konntest.

    Wenn ich dann endlich Nein gesagt und Dir klargemacht hatte, dass Du nicht wiederkommen solltest, wenn Du meine Grenzen nicht akzeptierst hast, dann hast Du Deine Ehre wiederhergestellt, indem Du mich in meiner Rolle als Prostituierte erniedrigt hast. Du hast von oben herab mit mir gesprochen, warst drohend und grob.

    Wenn Du Sex kaufst, sagt es sehr viel über Dich aus, Deine Ansichten über Menschen und über Deine Sexualität. In meinen Augen ist es ein ziemlich großes Zeichen von Schwäche, selbst wenn Du es mit einer kranken Form von Macht und Status verwechselst. Du glaubst, Du hast ein Recht dazu. Die Prostituierten sind ja ohnehin da. Aber weiß Du was?

    Die Prostituierten sind nur da, weil Männer wie Du einem gesunden und respektvollen Verhältnis zwischen Männern und Frauen im Weg stehen. Die Prostituierten existieren nur, weil Männer wie Du sich berechtigt fühlen, ihre sexuellen Bedürfnisse in den Körperöffnungen anderer Menschen zu befriedigen.

    Du musst ein frustrierter Mann sein

    Die Prostituierten sind nur da, weil Du und Deine Gleichgesinnten behaupten, dass Eure Sexualität es fordert, ständig Zugang zu Sex zu haben, wann immer es Euch passt. Prostituierte gibt es nur, weil Ihr ein frauenverachtendes Weltbild habt und Ihr mehr an Euren sexuellen Bedürfnissen interessiert seid als an dem Verhältnis, in dem diese sexuellen Ausschweifungen stattfinden.

    Wenn Du Sex kaufst, heißt das, dass Du den Kern Deiner eigenen Sexualität nicht gefunden hast. Ich finde, das ist schade für Dich. Wirklich. Dass Du so mittelmäßig bist zu glauben, Sexualität handelt davon, einen Orgasmus in einer fremden Scheide zu bekommen. Und wenn keine in Reichweite ist, ist sie doch nicht weiter weg als der Weg mit dem Auto in eine Straße, in der eine Frau wartet, die Du dafür bezahlst, Dich in einer Plastikhülle in eine ihrer Körperöffnungen entleeren zu dürfen. Du musst ein verschmähter und frustrierter Mann sein.

    Ein Mann, der es nicht schafft, tiefe und nahe Beziehungen herzustellen, in denen Verbundenheit mehr zählt als ein Höhepunkt. Ein Mann, der seinen Gefühlen nur durch einen Orgasmus freien Lauf lassen kann. Der es nicht schafft, über seine Gefühle zu sprechen, sondern sie lieber in seine Geschlechtsteile drückt, aus denen sie dann abfließen können. Gleichzeitig muss Deine Männlichkeit auf einem ziemlich niedrigen Stand sein. Ein maskuliner Mann würde sich niemals selbst erniedrigen und für Sex bezahlen.

    Was Deine Menschlichkeit angeht, so glaube ich an das Beste, auch in Dir. Ich weiß, dass tief in Dir drin auch ein Gewissen schlummert. Dass Du Dich im Stillen schon gefragt hast, ob das, was Du machst, ethisch und moralisch in Ordnung ist.

    Ich weiß auch, dass Du Dein Handeln verteidigt und gerechtfertigt hast, indem Du mich gut behandelt hast, lieb und zuverlässig warst, nie gemein oder etwa meine Grenzen überschritten hast. Aber weißt Du was? Das nennt man Ablehnung von Verantwortung.

    Lass uns rufen, dass Sex keine Ware ist

    Du weigerst Dich, die Realitäten zu sehen. Du redest Dir ein, dass die, die Du kaufst, keine Handelsware sind. Dass diese Frauen nicht zur Prostitution gezwungen sind. Vielleicht denkst Du tatsächlich, das Du mir einen Gefallen tust oder mir eine Atempause verschaffst, wenn Du über Wind und Wetter plauderst oder mich ein bisschen massierst, bevor Du meinen Unterleib penetrierst. Aber das war kein Gefallen. Was Du getan hast, hat meinen Verdacht erhärtet, dass ich nichts mehr wert bin. Dass ich nur eine Maschine bin, die es verdient hat, dass andere meine Sexualität ausbeuten.

    Ich habe viele Erfahrungen über Prostitution gesammelt. Das versetzt mich in die Lage, Dir diesen Brief zu schreiben. Aber es ist auch ein Brief, den ich lieber nie geschrieben hätte. Es sind Erfahrungen, die ich lieber nie gemacht hätte. Selbst wenn ausgerechnet Du glaubst, ein netter Kunde gewesen zu sein. Es gibt keine lieben Kunden. Es gibt nur Kunden, die das negative Selbstbild von Frauen verstärken.

    Willst Du Dich nicht für mich interessieren und mich als den Menschen sehen, der ich bin, jenseits von meinem Äußeren? Lass uns einen Neuanfang machen für die Zukunft: Lass uns zusammen mit unseren Freunden, unseren Freundinnen, unseren Arbeitskollegen, unseren Chefs, unseren Politikern und nicht zuletzt den Prostituierten im Chor rufen: Sex ist Privatsache. Es gehört zum Privatleben.

    Lass uns rufen, dass Sex keine Ware ist, aber dass es großes menschliches Leid gibt, wenn es wie eine solche angesehen wird. Lass uns in die Welt rufen, dass Geld und Sex nicht zusammengehören, sondern dass Sex unter ganz anderen Gesichtspunkten stattfinden sollte. Dann gewinnst Du meinen Respekt wieder, und ich werde Dich als den Menschen ansehen, der Du bist – und nicht als Sexkunden, der sich von einer Illusion leiten lässt.

    Herzliche Grüße, Tanja Rahm
    I like being alone, I just don't like being lonely.




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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    So buying sex is bad but selling sex is ok? This sounds like someone that was either forced into it (in which case all her feelings are valid) or really hates herself, probably more than she does the people she was writing the letter to, for going for the "fast money". I feel sorry for her also either way.

    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    Interesting, I happen to read about this letter.








    FOR YOU, WHO BUY SEX

    By Tanja Rahm

    Dear sex customer,

    If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast. Do not confuse that with easy money, it was never easy. Fast, yes. Because I quickly learned the many tricks to get you to come as quickly as possible, so I could get you off of me, or from under me, or from behind me.

    And no, you never turned me on during the act. I was a great actress. For years I have had the opportunity to practice for free. Actually, it falls under the concept of multitasking. Because while you lay there, my thoughts were always elsewhere. Somewhere where I was not confronted with you sucking out my self respect, without spending as much as ten seconds on the reality of the situation, or to look me in the eye.

    If you thought you were doing me a favour by paying me for thirty minutes or an hour, you were wrong. I would rather have had you in and out as fast as possible. When you thought yourself to my holy saviour, asking what a pretty girl like me was doing in a place like that, you lost your halo when you proceeded to ask me to lie down on my back, and then put all your efforts into feeling my body as much as possible with your hands. Actually, I would have preferred if you had gotten down on your back and had let me do my job.

    When you thought you could boost your masculinity by getting me to climax, you need to know that I faked it. I could have won a gold medal in faking it. I faked it so much, that the receptionist would nearly fall off of her chair laughing. What did you expect? You were perhaps number three, or number five, or eight that day. Did you really think I was able to get turned on mentally or physically by having sex with men I did not choose myself? Not ever. My genitals were burning. From lubricant and condoms. And I was tired. So tired, that often I had to be careful not to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep while my moaning continued on autopilot.

    If you thought you paid for loyalty or small talk, you need to think again. I had zero interest in your excuses. I did not care that your wife had SPD, and that you just could not go without sex. Or when you offered any other pathetic excuse for coming to buy sex with me. When you thought I understood you and had sympathy for you, it was all a lie. I had nothing but contempt for you, and at the same time you destroyed something inside of me. You sowed the seeds of doubt in me. Doubt as to whether all men were just as cynical and unfaithful as you were.

    When you praised my appearance, my body, or my sexual abilities, you could just as well have vomited on me. You did not see the person behind the mask. You only saw that which confirmed your illusion of a raunchy woman with an unstoppable sex drive. In fact, you never said what you thought I wanted to hear. Instead, you said what you yourself needed to hear. You said that, which was needed to preserve your illusion, and which prevented you from thinking about how I had ended up where I was at twenty years of age. Basically you did not care at all. Because you had one goal only, and that was to show off your power by paying me to use my body as it pleased you.

    When a drop of blood appeared on the condom, it was not because my period had just come. It was because my body was a machine, one that could not be interrupted by a monthly cycle, so I inserted a sponge into my vagina, when I menstruated. To be able to continue on the sheets. And no, I did not go home after you had finished. I continued working, telling the next customer exactly the same story that you had heard. You were all so consumed with your own lust that a little menstrual blood did not stop you.

    When you came with objects, lingerie, costumes or toys, and wanted erotic role-play, my inner machine took over. I was disgusted with you and your sometimes quite sick fantasies. The same goes for the times when you smiled and said that I looked like a seventeen-year-old girl. It did not help that you yourself were fifty, sixty, seventy, or older.

    When you regularly violated my boundaries by either kissing me, or inserting our fingers into me, or taking off your condom, you did it knowing perfectly well that it was against the rules. You were testing my ability to say no. And you enjoyed it when I did not object clearly enough, or when I too often would simply ignore it. And then you used it in a perverted way to show how much power you had and that you could cross my boundaries. When I finally told you off, and made it clear that I would not have you as a customer again if you could not respect the rules, you insulted me and my role as prostitute. You were condescending, threatening and rude.

    When you buy sex, it says a lot about you, your humanity, and your sexuality. To me, it is a sign of your weakness, even though you confuse it with a sick sort of power and status. You think you have a right. I mean, the prostitutes are out there anyway, right? But they are only prostitutes because men like you stand in the way of healthy and respectful relationship between men and women. Prostitutes only exist because men like you feel you have the right to satisfy your sexual urges using the orifices of other people’s bodies. Prostitutes exist because you and your peers feel that your sexuality requires access to sex whenever it suits you. Prostitutes exist because you are a misogynist, and because you are more concerned with your own sexual needs than the relationships, in which your sexuality could actually flourish.

    When you buy sex, it reveals that you have not found the core within your own sexuality. I feel sorry for you, I really do. That you are so mediocre that you think that sex is all about ejaculating into a stranger’s vagina. And if one is not handy, it is never further away than down the street, where you can pay an unknown woman to be able to empty yourself into a rubber while inside of her. What a petty and frustrated man you must be. A man unable to create profound and intimate relationships, in which the connection runs deeper than just your ejaculation. A man, who expresses his feelings through his climaxes, who does not have the ability to verbalise them, but prefers to channel them through his genitals to get rid himself of them. What a weak masculinity. A truly masculine man would never degrade himself by paying for sex.

    As far as your humanity goes, I believe in the good in people, also in you. I know that deep down you have a conscience. That you have quietly wondered whether what you did was ethically and morally justifiable. I also know that you defend your actions and likely think that you treated me well, were kind, never mean or did not violate my boundaries. But you know what? That is called evading your responsibility. You are not confronting reality. You delude yourself in thinking that the people, you buy, are not bought. Not forced into prostitution. Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.

    I have many experiences from prostitution. They enable me to write this letter to you. But it is a letter, which I would much rather not have written. These are experiences I wish I could have avoided.

    You of course you thought of yourself as one of the nice customers. But there are no nice customers. Just those who confirm the women’s negative view of themselves.

    Take my hand and see me for the person I am on the inside. Let us go together to make a difference in the future. Let us raise our voices to our friends, our girlfriends, our business associates, our bosses, our politicians, and last but not least, to the prostituted. Let us raise our voices together and say that sex is private. Let us shout that sex is not a product on a shelf, but that it can cost dearly if it is treated as one. Let us scream to the world that money and sex do no belong together, and that sex belong to all together different and mutually reciprocal relationships. Because in this case, you will re-concur my respect and I will see you as the person you are, and not just as a buyer of sex, seduced by an illusion.

    Yours truly,
    Tanja Rahm

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    ^The author obviously wrote it for closure, as well as to let customers know the reality of how she felt with them, now that she didn't need their money. Plus, customers knowing that could make them think twice about how they treat the next sex worker. I've done camming, prodomming, dancing, and booking for an escort service. Camming and prodomming did the least damage psychologically. I just wish I could trade places with customers for one day, so they could see how nightmarish the parts we don't discuss with them are. IME, the ones who think they're the best are the worst ones to see.
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    Quote Originally Posted by xStacey View Post
    Close contact, for an hour, for $40? And I guess I'll have to make conversation with them too?

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Have you girls thought about setting up accounts with chatstar and dreamlover and charging per text, phone call, etc?

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    ^The author obviously wrote it for closure, as well as to let customers know the reality of how she felt with them, now that she didn't need their money. Plus, customers knowing that could make them think twice about how they treat the next sex worker. I've done camming, prodomming, dancing, and booking for an escort service. Camming and prodomming did the least damage psychologically. I just wish I could trade places with customers for one day, so they could see how nightmarish the parts we don't discuss with them are. IME, the ones who think they're the best are the worst ones to see.
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    Quote Originally Posted by xStacey View Post
    Close contact, for an hour, for $40? And I guess I'll have to make conversation with them too?

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    Quote Originally Posted by SweetJulia View Post
    ^The author obviously wrote it for closure, as well as to let customers know the reality of how she felt with them, now that she didn't need their money. Plus, customers knowing that could make them think twice about how they treat the next sex worker. I've done camming, prodomming, dancing, and booking for an escort service. Camming and prodomming did the least damage psychologically. I just wish I could trade places with customers for one day, so they could see how nightmarish the parts we don't discuss with them are. IME, the ones who think they're the best are the worst ones to see.
    I understand why she wrote it I just think it was misguided. Since she no longer needs the money she feels the right to throw a match on the entire industry (customers and escorts) on her way out by saying it is wrong. She has joined the many others who have decided to shame the people who buy AND sell sex. She is a hypocrite and again I feel sorry for her.

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    http://www.news.com.au/finance/busin...909d581467d06f

    "Tanja Rahm spent three years in different Danish brothels and left prostitution when she was 23-years-old to become a therapist, sexologist and a lecturer. This letter, adapted from one that first appeared on the Danish website Welt, is one of 18 personal stories published in Prostitution Narratives: Stories of Survival in the Sex Trade, a new book by Caroline Norma and Melinda Tankard Reist."

    That is also the 'popular view' that sells books, same as when arrested it is expected to feel ashamed and apologize. I'm waiting for someone to stand up, own it and say the experience was empowering and they'd do it again.
    Last edited by CFMNH44; 04-25-2016 at 11:12 PM. Reason: added link
    Originally Posted by
    I don't know what it is about me that says "wife me up." Everyone wants to choke me or date me. Or both. This job is weird.


    Originally Posted by Nocturnelle
    ... Kittens are assholes but they're just so darn cute.

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    Quote Originally Posted by strippername View Post
    It sounds like you are in a small market. You need to teach these guys the rules. Be firm but nice. You could drive away some good ones. I agree with email only. Offer a "Night on the Town" package that is a bit cheaper than your normal rates for time out and time in.
    This.

    The only reason why this is happening is because YOU are allowing it to happen.

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    Interesting, I happen to read about this letter.








    FOR YOU, WHO BUY SEX

    By Tanja Rahm

    Dear sex customer,

    If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast. Do not confuse that with easy money, it was never easy. Fast, yes. Because I quickly learned the many tricks to get you to come as quickly as possible, so I could get you off of me, or from under me, or from behind me.

    And no, you never turned me on during the act. I was a great actress. For years I have had the opportunity to practice for free. Actually, it falls under the concept of multitasking. Because while you lay there, my thoughts were always elsewhere. Somewhere where I was not confronted with you sucking out my self respect, without spending as much as ten seconds on the reality of the situation, or to look me in the eye.

    If you thought you were doing me a favour by paying me for thirty minutes or an hour, you were wrong. I would rather have had you in and out as fast as possible. When you thought yourself to my holy saviour, asking what a pretty girl like me was doing in a place like that, you lost your halo when you proceeded to ask me to lie down on my back, and then put all your efforts into feeling my body as much as possible with your hands. Actually, I would have preferred if you had gotten down on your back and had let me do my job.

    When you thought you could boost your masculinity by getting me to climax, you need to know that I faked it. I could have won a gold medal in faking it. I faked it so much, that the receptionist would nearly fall off of her chair laughing. What did you expect? You were perhaps number three, or number five, or eight that day. Did you really think I was able to get turned on mentally or physically by having sex with men I did not choose myself? Not ever. My genitals were burning. From lubricant and condoms. And I was tired. So tired, that often I had to be careful not to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep while my moaning continued on autopilot.

    If you thought you paid for loyalty or small talk, you need to think again. I had zero interest in your excuses. I did not care that your wife had SPD, and that you just could not go without sex. Or when you offered any other pathetic excuse for coming to buy sex with me. When you thought I understood you and had sympathy for you, it was all a lie. I had nothing but contempt for you, and at the same time you destroyed something inside of me. You sowed the seeds of doubt in me. Doubt as to whether all men were just as cynical and unfaithful as you were.

    When you praised my appearance, my body, or my sexual abilities, you could just as well have vomited on me. You did not see the person behind the mask. You only saw that which confirmed your illusion of a raunchy woman with an unstoppable sex drive. In fact, you never said what you thought I wanted to hear. Instead, you said what you yourself needed to hear. You said that, which was needed to preserve your illusion, and which prevented you from thinking about how I had ended up where I was at twenty years of age. Basically you did not care at all. Because you had one goal only, and that was to show off your power by paying me to use my body as it pleased you.

    When a drop of blood appeared on the condom, it was not because my period had just come. It was because my body was a machine, one that could not be interrupted by a monthly cycle, so I inserted a sponge into my vagina, when I menstruated. To be able to continue on the sheets. And no, I did not go home after you had finished. I continued working, telling the next customer exactly the same story that you had heard. You were all so consumed with your own lust that a little menstrual blood did not stop you.

    When you came with objects, lingerie, costumes or toys, and wanted erotic role-play, my inner machine took over. I was disgusted with you and your sometimes quite sick fantasies. The same goes for the times when you smiled and said that I looked like a seventeen-year-old girl. It did not help that you yourself were fifty, sixty, seventy, or older.

    When you regularly violated my boundaries by either kissing me, or inserting our fingers into me, or taking off your condom, you did it knowing perfectly well that it was against the rules. You were testing my ability to say no. And you enjoyed it when I did not object clearly enough, or when I too often would simply ignore it. And then you used it in a perverted way to show how much power you had and that you could cross my boundaries. When I finally told you off, and made it clear that I would not have you as a customer again if you could not respect the rules, you insulted me and my role as prostitute. You were condescending, threatening and rude.

    When you buy sex, it says a lot about you, your humanity, and your sexuality. To me, it is a sign of your weakness, even though you confuse it with a sick sort of power and status. You think you have a right. I mean, the prostitutes are out there anyway, right? But they are only prostitutes because men like you stand in the way of healthy and respectful relationship between men and women. Prostitutes only exist because men like you feel you have the right to satisfy your sexual urges using the orifices of other people’s bodies. Prostitutes exist because you and your peers feel that your sexuality requires access to sex whenever it suits you. Prostitutes exist because you are a misogynist, and because you are more concerned with your own sexual needs than the relationships, in which your sexuality could actually flourish.

    When you buy sex, it reveals that you have not found the core within your own sexuality. I feel sorry for you, I really do. That you are so mediocre that you think that sex is all about ejaculating into a stranger’s vagina. And if one is not handy, it is never further away than down the street, where you can pay an unknown woman to be able to empty yourself into a rubber while inside of her. What a petty and frustrated man you must be. A man unable to create profound and intimate relationships, in which the connection runs deeper than just your ejaculation. A man, who expresses his feelings through his climaxes, who does not have the ability to verbalise them, but prefers to channel them through his genitals to get rid himself of them. What a weak masculinity. A truly masculine man would never degrade himself by paying for sex.

    As far as your humanity goes, I believe in the good in people, also in you. I know that deep down you have a conscience. That you have quietly wondered whether what you did was ethically and morally justifiable. I also know that you defend your actions and likely think that you treated me well, were kind, never mean or did not violate my boundaries. But you know what? That is called evading your responsibility. You are not confronting reality. You delude yourself in thinking that the people, you buy, are not bought. Not forced into prostitution. Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.

    I have many experiences from prostitution. They enable me to write this letter to you. But it is a letter, which I would much rather not have written. These are experiences I wish I could have avoided.

    You of course you thought of yourself as one of the nice customers. But there are no nice customers. Just those who confirm the women’s negative view of themselves.

    Take my hand and see me for the person I am on the inside. Let us go together to make a difference in the future. Let us raise our voices to our friends, our girlfriends, our business associates, our bosses, our politicians, and last but not least, to the prostituted. Let us raise our voices together and say that sex is private. Let us shout that sex is not a product on a shelf, but that it can cost dearly if it is treated as one. Let us scream to the world that money and sex do no belong together, and that sex belong to all together different and mutually reciprocal relationships. Because in this case, you will re-concur my respect and I will see you as the person you are, and not just as a buyer of sex, seduced by an illusion.

    Yours truly,
    Tanja Rahm
    This is insanity. Plain and simple. This is a person that shouldn't be selling sex AT ALL.
    If I felt this way about my clients, I wouldn't work in the sex industry. My goodness. I can't stand women like this!
    Get the fuck out of the business and get a job at a call center then. Ugh.

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast. Do not confuse that with easy money, it was never easy. Fast, yes. Because I quickly learned the many tricks to get you to come as quickly as possible, so I could get you off of me, or from under me, or from behind me.
    Good for u, you have a trained skill.

    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    And no, you never turned me on during the act. I was a great actress. For years I have had the opportunity to practice for free. Actually, it falls under the concept of multitasking. Because while you lay there, my thoughts were always elsewhere. Somewhere where I was not confronted with you sucking out my self respect, without spending as much as ten seconds on the reality of the situation, or to look me in the eye.
    Then tell the customer to stop DATY and put in the pussy. Eye looking is essential for me as a customer.

    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    If you thought you were doing me a favour by paying me for thirty minutes or an hour, you were wrong. I would rather have had you in and out as fast as possible. When you thought yourself to my holy saviour, asking what a pretty girl like me was doing in a place like that, you lost your halo when you proceeded to ask me to lie down on my back, and then put all your efforts into feeling my body as much as possible with your hands. Actually, I would have preferred if you had gotten down on your back and had let me do my job.
    If the session wasnt by time but by pop, then the customer doesnt need to cram in all the groping into a 30 minute session. Then ask for your fav position.


    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    When you thought you could boost your masculinity by getting me to climax, you need to know that I faked it. I could have won a gold medal in faking it. I faked it so much, that the receptionist would nearly fall off of her chair laughing. What did you expect? You were perhaps number three, or number five, or eight that day. Did you really think I was able to get turned on mentally or physically by having sex with men I did not choose myself? Not ever. My genitals were burning. From lubricant and condoms. And I was tired. So tired, that often I had to be careful not to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep while my moaning continued on autopilot.
    If you pick your customers correctly (in a strip club), you wont have those problems since you already know what kind of sex they want, and their fantasies. At which point you can reject them if they have extreme fetishes.


    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post

    You only saw that which confirmed your illusion of a raunchy woman with an unstoppable sex drive. In fact, you never said what you thought I wanted to hear. Instead, you said what you yourself needed to hear. You said that, which was needed to preserve your illusion, and which prevented you from thinking about how I had ended up where I was at twenty years of age. Basically you did not care at all. Because you had one goal only, and that was to show off your power by paying me to use my body as it pleased you.
    As a customer, I have to delude myself you havent been with other men too. I have to wipe from my mind you will go home to a BF and treat him exactly the same way you did to me, except I paid and he didnt. I have to wipe from my mind, that marry you (HAHA) means support your 3 rugrats. I have to wipe the faces off all other male stripclub customers I saw you with in the last hour. And inside me, I have to suppress the lovey dovey feelings for last weeks DFK stripper, so I can DFK you right now, and crush those feelings in the process.

    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    As far as your humanity goes, I believe in the good in people, also in you. I know that deep down you have a conscience. That you have quietly wondered whether what you did was ethically and morally justifiable. I also know that you defend your actions and likely think that you treated me well, were kind, never mean or did not violate my boundaries. But you know what? That is called evading your responsibility. You are not confronting reality. You delude yourself in thinking that the people, you buy, are not bought. Not forced into prostitution. Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.

    I have many experiences from prostitution. They enable me to write this letter to you. But it is a letter, which I would much rather not have written. These are experiences I wish I could have avoided.

    You of course you thought of yourself as one of the nice customers. But there are no nice customers. Just those who confirm the women’s negative view of themselves.

    Take my hand and see me for the person I am on the inside. Let us go together to make a difference in the future. Let us raise our voices to our friends, our girlfriends, our business associates, our bosses, our politicians, and last but not least, to the prostituted. Let us raise our voices together and say that sex is private. Let us shout that sex is not a product on a shelf, but that it can cost dearly if it is treated as one. Let us scream to the world that money and sex do no belong together, and that sex belong to all together different and mutually reciprocal relationships. Because in this case, you will re-concur my respect and I will see you as the person you are, and not just as a buyer of sex, seduced by an illusion.

    Yours truly,
    Tanja Rahm
    Any therapist or psychologist can convince a woman that a normal relationship with an SO was abusive, or violating, or all acts of intimacy with her SO were rape. Once the patient is convinced their relationship was not normal, they become a troubled broken person, heavily dependent on prescribed pills, continuously tittering and changing drugs, along with a good dose of self-help street drugs to cure the "pain" the therapist invented.

    Short of a gun or knife, a provider can always stop the session, return the envelope and ban the customer. If she fails to do so, whatever rule he broke must be been flexible.

    Prostitition is not the only form of sex work. A civilian nightclub with rare Cognac in a bucket of ice, rolex watchs. gold cuff links, and telling the waitress to go invite that group of girls into the VIP room, that is very expensive sex work. Sex for trading resources is forever for mankind.

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast. Do not confuse that with easy money, it was never easy.
    ^ The tone and bias of her entire letter can be summed up by this.


    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    I had nothing but contempt for you, and at the same time you destroyed something inside of me. You sowed the seeds of doubt in me. Doubt as to whether all men were just as cynical and unfaithful as you were.
    Sex work or not, many folks become jaded by "seeds of doubt" arising from the stressors of real relationships. That's life, honey.


    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    When you came with objects, lingerie, costumes or toys, and wanted erotic role-play, my inner machine took over. I was disgusted with you and your sometimes quite sick fantasies. The same goes for the times when you smiled and said that I looked like a seventeen-year-old girl. It did not help that you yourself were fifty, sixty, seventy, or older.
    Perhaps it's the voyeur in me, but I'm always fascinated by what kind of fetishes people have. Some are scary and not at all cool, but most aren't actually terrible.


    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    Prostitutes only exist because men like you feel you have the right to satisfy your sexual urges using the orifices of other people’s bodies. Prostitutes exist because you and your peers feel that your sexuality requires access to sex whenever it suits you. Prostitutes exist because you are a misogynist, and because you are more concerned with your own sexual needs than the relationships, in which your sexuality could actually flourish.
    This sounds more like someone being held captive as a sex slave. Seeing as how she worked in a brothel, maybe she didn't get to choose her clients and seems to never have refused any either... Even so, prostitutes exist because BOTH parties are willing to exchange something for another. When only one party consents, it is no longer prostitution.


    Quote Originally Posted by baer45 View Post
    Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.
    Wonder what she has to say regarding the worth of the countless non-working girls who give it up easily (and often unprotected) to guys who never return their calls and have nothing but "why doesn't he call me back?" to show for it? As well as the guys who feel entitled to engage in such behavior without consequence or remorse...



    Basically, this girl is one who looks back at her experiences with nothing but regret and shame. She speaks as if she was forced into prostitution and had zero control of her body or who she saw. Yet, she chose to work. Nowhere does she say that she was forced or coerced into becoming a prostitute. This is not to be confused with girls who are truly forced into prostitution. That is a horrific and very different subject altogether.

    I consider myself blessed to be able to say that I "retired" and although I went through a brief period in which I felt bad about it, I realized it was more about outsider perception and fear of being judged than self-hate. When I decided to get back into the biz, I didn't feel as though it were a shameful last resort. Albeit, I'm in control of my business. I'm cautious and choosy about who I'll see and I don't do anything that I'm not comfortable with, which affords me the autonomy that enables one to feel empowered.



    *And to the OP, guys in general will try to get away with whatever they can. If you don't want all the extra chitchat then don't allow it. More likely than not, they will still stick around as clients.
    I have the misfortune to believe neither in promises nor in fidelity. ~Marie Duplessis

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    Default Re: What the hell are these guys thinking?

    Quote Originally Posted by CFMNH44 View Post
    http://www.news.com.au/finance/busin...909d581467d06f

    "Tanja Rahm spent three years in different Danish brothels and left prostitution when she was 23-years-old to become a therapist, sexologist and a lecturer. This letter, adapted from one that first appeared on the Danish website Welt, is one of 18 personal stories published in Prostitution Narratives: Stories of Survival in the Sex Trade, a new book by Caroline Norma and Melinda Tankard Reist."

    That is also the 'popular view' that sells books, same as when arrested it is expected to feel ashamed and apologize. I'm waiting for someone to stand up, own it and say the experience was empowering and they'd do it again.
    I think a reason why we tend to hear about prostitution only in terms of stories involving tragedy, escape and overall drama is because it makes for compelling storytelling. Nobody really cares about a hero who doesn't face or overcome enormous obstacles. If sex work isn't something one has to "triumph" over, then it isn't so bad... And the very idea that prostitution isn't always damaging goes against societal thinking...

    Women are supposed to be vulnerable creatures who need guidance and protection. Therefore, the idea of them choosing to capitalize on their assets or sexuality and perhaps even enjoying it, is unimaginable. There's no way a woman can enjoy fucking strangers, and especially not for money. If she fucks random guys for the hell of it, she's got some issues and must be "lost". If she takes safety precautions and gets compensated with actual cash, not just "dinner and a movie" or hell, "Netflix and chill" then she has got to be more than troubled, she's truly fucked up. At which point, it becomes perfectly reasonable to associate these independent working girls, many of whom either aren't or maybe are just a little cray-cray (because let's be honest, there are plenty of fucked up people who've never been associated with sex work) with the actual fucked up realities of the children and adults who are forced into the sex-trade.

    I can't blame the many women who'd rather stay out of public scrutiny and judgment by not sharing their stories of success in sex work. God forbid, a happy story about prostitution? That only exists in fiction. After all, sex work and tragedy are mutually exclusive. Kind of like homosexuality and pedophilia in the 80's.
    I have the misfortune to believe neither in promises nor in fidelity. ~Marie Duplessis

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