There was this guy, we’ll call him Checklist, cause that’s how he fucks. I have made the mistake of showing my blog to a couple of people I know in real life, including him. One time Checklist said to me that I needed to make this blog more about me and my experiences, that I need to give my audience a more intimate sense of who I am. I had no idea what he was talking about, or how my blog could get any more personal than it already was, or why he thought it would be better to ditch my premise to write in that touristy, amateur style where you feel like you have to log every single thing that happened to you that day and none of it is interesting.

Then I realized: he was asking me to write porn. Maybe he knew what he was asking and thought it was funny to be suggesting something lewd, or maybe he was not even aware of his own motivations. With all the irrelevant, ivory tower shit I get from these guys I would not be surprised if they thought of their masturbation as a collaboration in my personal creativity, and I know they cannot separate their masturbation from their intellectualism. He was asking me to write jerk-off material. Once I realized that, the parts that seemed like nonsense all the sudden became clear: he thought I was hiding my “real” self because I wasn’t writing essays about how horny I was and how much I loved having sex with the various people I talk about in my discussions of my otherwise-negative interactions with those people.

So, in case I should continue posting to this blog, let me establish that I will not be entertaining Checklist or any of the other equivocating, cheap, self-centered, probably-married, weirdly techno-illiterate manbabies who have demonstrated that they think they get to assign themselves a role in my life. I have no more room for the onslaught; the demands that you don’t think are demands; the rush home; the following; the spam-level contact; the calls at 2 a.m. and, when I don’t answer, the calls back. I don’t have room for the sleeplessness, the stress dreams, the near-constant awareness that I am no better than an animal, at least for our current purposes, which are kinda the only purposes I’m dealing with right now. I don’t even have room to ask nicely because niceness is work and I don’t work for free. If I hear even the teeniest, tiniest, IP-address peep out of you people I am going to make you regret the day you ever met me. Let me do what you do all the time and make it known that although you might be alive, here in this space you do not get to be a person. You may find a space somewhere to be a whole person or you may not find that space, but whether you find it does not matter to me and you do not get to find it here. You can be a person as long as I don’t have to know about it.

Let me put you in the same position that you put me in all the time and say that if I see you, or hear you, or even accidentally pass you on the street, I will call your respective wives. Your existence is an affront and I will interpret it however I want. Like you, all the time.

I try really hard to keep the stress and drama away from you [as you have specifically requested in the previous email] but it’s very hard for me to tell which things you consider “stress” and “drama.”  In a way, all of my human characteristics (i.e. the things you have to deal with as side effects of the fact that you’d rather fuck a human being than a doll) are stress and drama for you.  I think a lot of what I’ve been worrying about so far in my time of knowing you has been based in my lack of understanding of exactly which parts of that stress and drama you want me to allow to show through and which parts you want me to hide, and how hard you want me to work in hiding those parts considering that hiding it might put extra stress on me and make me more stressful for you in specific ways.  You haven’t realized until now that this is necessary, but it’s a lot of what I’ve been trying to tell you.

I totally understand that you need to keep this stress-free.  It’s not worth doing if it isn’t enjoyable to you (or so I’m assuming; unfortunately I can’t say the same for myself so I’m not certain I understand your reasoning).  I’m sorry that I can’t get another girl to commit days in advance to an appointment with us, but whether she is reliable is not under my control and I’m just trying to make that clear to you.  I actually have no idea whether she’ll be reliable or not but I am just trying to warn you that something about making plans days in advance in this type of transaction (and with this girl) isn’t sitting right with me and I don’t want things to end up falling through and wasting your time.

I also know that I might become very upset if I end up spending the next few days (a) trying to organize something for a coworker who wants me to go behind the boss’s back and/or having to give her extra (which I planned to pay for) to get her to do it the legit way and (b) psyching myself out to do a sexual favor of a nature which I’d be comfortable with if I felt some kind of support from the person I’m doing it for, but which feels wrong when I don’t have that feeling.  I’m putting myself in a lot of bad positions for a lot of people and getting nothing in return.  I meant it the other day when I told you that I genuinely wanted to organize the threesome for you, but that was also when I was believing the things you were saying.  I also don’t want there to be any misunderstandings or disappointments about the nature of my (possible) enjoyment, which I cannot guarantee for you.  I am happy to give you my body and my time and presence for threesome, but it seems like that is not enough for you.   Of course I would keep up the act during your paid hour but I can’t promise whether it will be sexually exciting for me.  I also can’t guarantee that I will feel okay with it afterward; it might be the last thing I do for you.

I know I have to barter when it comes to things like this, for the exact reasons you’ve stated.  At the same time, I don’t know how to make the best sexual experience for you if I don’t talk about certain things.  I’ve learned not to expect respect of all my efforts (which is why I seemed both frustrated and slightly distant when we were talking the other night and in the car in the morning; I am both unprepared for that type of conversation and also will not allow myself to get prepared because I expect you to cut it off at any moment).  So I have to ask that if you respond to any of this, you respond to the first paragraph and tell me, for stress reduction purposes, exactly which parts of my humanness you want to show through so that you know you’re fucking a conscious person and which parts of me you want to be robotic.  (You have to understand that I also have to take my own measures in order to make this happen, so it won’t be perfect.)  This is something that I’ve been working out for a long time; I can’t promise you that it works because no one has ever allowed me to get to this point of asking it (just as you have been telling me I’m wrong this whole time), but obviously you need me to ask it, if you expect me to be stress-free.  So just answer the question.  I’m not sure that this is the right way but if this isn’t right then nothing is and there is no such thing as a “stress free fuck relationship,” at least not with someone who will satisfy your ego to feel like you’re fucking a real, whole person.

“Miss Delaware Teen USA Melissa King was paid $1,500 for a sex video…King resigned her title.  [She] sent several tweets…in which she wrote: “I don’t know what the lesson to this is yet… Was it really worth it.”

No.  She wasn’t paid enough.


You know how we were talking about the way that telling a person to relax is a quick way to make them angry?  That telling an already-calm person to calm down is a very successful strategy for making sure they stop being calm and then you have an excuse to kick them out?

This is not exactly the same thing but it’s the same feeling.  How would you deal with it if people approached you like that, every day, often multiple times a day?  What if instead of using that as a strategy to make a customer leave your bar, the customer used it on you?  What if your ability to deal with that, and keep a smile on your face (the presence of which will cause the customer to keep escalating things), and act interested in him like you totally want to be friends even though he’s being an asshole, what if that directly determined whether you got paid for doing your job or whether you went home broke?

I don’t want to insult you, Sixteen, I don’t want to complain about something that guys might experience too.  I know that everyone in the service industry, and maybe in every industry, has to deal with meeting people’s needs.  But I can’t think of any other industry where payment is optional depending not only on how good you are at keeping a straight face while your customers endlessly fuck with you (this might be the case in other industries), but also how good you are at discerning the ever-moving target of exactly which type of fucking-with it is that they want.  I got into the sex industry so I could give those people exactly what they wanted and so that I could get paid for it, and all I want to do is get paid to be taunted and criticized by men who I’m sure do this to a lot of people in passing just because they can but set out specifically to do it to girls.  But if you don’t let me settle on one type of fucking-with then you can’t be unsatisfied when I don’t figure out what you want and you certainly are not allowed to withhold my money after I sat there and chased around your impossible target for most of an hour.  Do they set it up so that I’ll fail and then they don’t have to pay?

Maybe it’s the chase they want.  My job is to meet customers’ needs but their needs are a paradox.  Whatever they want is whatever I don’t want, and if I give them what they want then they want a different thing.  They want to see me squirm and see how much I hate it, and then they want me to love them, too.  How can I convincingly feign two contradictory things?  Which is to say that people who walk into the club think I should be their free sex object.  These people have money, you know, these are the people everyone thinks are nice guys.  I wouldn’t even care about their status or mine if it didn’t end up meaning I have to beg for their money.  They do not think this is a real job and they think they are doing me a favor, that if I buy a meal they fed me, if I pay my rent it’s like my apartment is theirs, maybe they like to think they can barge in the door at any time.  Do anyone else’s customers hold that over them like this?  I’m seriously asking.  Do they hold it over your head like this.

Today a customer gave me a silly political lecture about how terrorists have a lot of money and if he had that much money he would give it to children and to hospitals.  (“What if the moon was your car, and Jupiter was your hairbrush?”)  But not before he told me and another girl that he thinks women are smarter than men, a comment which when said by a man trips a subtle and dark fear in me.  I don’t think either sex is smarter than the other biologically.  I think we start out the same.  But I do think that experience, especially negative experience, makes people smarter and I think women have a lot more of that.


If a girl beats up a guy for trying to go around her garter and touch her crotch, she should be nicer and more understanding.

If a guy beats up a girl for not giving him the sex he wants, she should be nicer and more understanding.


When you cover yourself, the whole world is a strip club.