A Good Whore Is Hard To Find

I've been putting off this post for a few reasons. One because I’m tired as fuck and have not had a moment to collect myself all week. Two, because I finally got to see one of my regulars who shall not be named (according to his wishes, certainly not mine), and we had such a Patreon entry worthy time together, it thoroughly broke my heart not to be able to talk about it. I’ve been caught in a back and forth regarding my responsibility to myself in being true to my work and experience, while also respecting his wish to no longer be the subject of my writing.

I’ve brought this question of ethical responsibility with me in so many conversations lately. With my hoes, with other memoir writers, with anybody who will listen. And the responses that I’ve gotten have been varied. The sex workers believe that we are entitled to write about clients, because it gives us a modicum of power in often imbalanced relationships, and because men are pretty often terrible. They are brutish, they make the people around them uncomfortable, oftentimes to the point of even causing harm. I could blah blah blah “not all men” this argument, and if you’re a good cishet man, you know who you are and this hasn’t challenged your sense of your own intrinsic goodness at all. In fact, if you’re truly a good man, you’re probably nodding along like “yes, we are oafish nuisances who need to be put in our place.” It’s nothing personal, it’s just fact. The people who are opposed to me writing openly are primarily insecure clients, whether they be mine or men who might generally fit into the “client” category. They are the typical cishet men, who aren’t accustomed to being held accountable in intimate spaces. In a more pragmatic way, they are men who need their secrets and privacy in order to be open in the intimate sphere. And that’s reasonable. Their tutting about my degree of divulgence caused me to have that introspective moment not too long ago.

This week, I spoke to memoir writers and asked them to share someone else’s secret during a lecture I gave, and only one person refused to divulge. I asked if it was a moral issue, if they felt like a secret was a binding contract, and they responded that it had nothing to do with morality, but instead with internalized fear. They had grown up in an abusive home, and there were grave consequences for not keeping secrets. They held onto that sense of dread, even now as an adult. But everyone else shared a variety of secrets, from playful ones to ones with ongoing repercussions if shared. Separately, I spoke to another writer, and she decided that a secret is fair game if a person lacks proximity to the person who asked for confidence. If the person whose confidence you must keep remains a present figure in your life, it’s best to keep it to your chest. If you depend on them financially at all, then it’s even more of a reason to remember: loose lips sink ships.

I understand the fuss about secrets and whatnot, as much as I believe it’s bullshit most of the time. Secrets enable bad behavior. But I suppose, I’m in the business of bad behavior, and I of all people, need to enable said bad behavior. My clients want my confidence so that they can be their freest selves when with me. They want to suspend their disbelief, even as we awkwardly talk money and I set boundaries around what I will and will not do. They want to feel a modicum of naturalness to something that isn’t exactly natural. I mean natural in the sense of “boy meets girl, boy and girl mutually develop feelings which culminate in sexxxxx”. I’m neither boy nor girl. I don’t develop feelings aside from in some special cases, a sense of care or friendship. There is no culmination, it’s simply the sex they purchased and we negotiated from the start. They could begin fucking me as soon as I enter the room for all I care, but most don’t because they want emotional intimacy as much as to physically enter my vageenta. I admire the hoes who are cold and unabashedly unavailable as they work. It’s just not me. I’m polite and nurturing, even if I can be cuttingly honest. My clients appreciate my directness in person, but are much less accepting when I bring my incisive thoughts here, to share them with y’all, my public. They feel that I’m throwing them to the wolves, except that my audience doesn’t tend to tear anybody apart. I think y’all are quite pragmatic about the men who purchase my time, foibles and all.

It’s not easy to be a good whore. It’s not easy to be kind and interesting; to sense what people need without them having to say it; to bring something unique and valuable enough to the table that people are willing to spend hundreds to thousands of dollars to experience. A good whore is hard to find, and we’re not as fungible as one might imagine. I’ve certainly tried to introduce my friends to customers who have treated me well. I’ve set many of my friends up, only to have my clients tell me that “she isn’t you,” or something equivalent. As much as my clients may not always enjoy the candor with which I discuss them here, they would be hard pressed to find someone like me if they opted out. Maybe that’s me sitting too high on my high horse, but it’s a difficult balance keeping these very demanding and often unruly men happy.

This week, I saw three clients. It was a busier week than normal after a surprise text from one of my regulars who I see only sporadically. Sometimes I have to pause and think about how many dicks I’ve handled that week. I only had penis-in-vulva sex with one of them, the other two were interested in other things. Three unique penises in one week would be a lot for a very demisexual fae like myself to handle. Sometimes that is my life, but not if I can help it.

One of the three was LSM. He’d messaged me during the previous week after a few drinks and went on about how he had felt “emotionally ghosted” by me. To clarify, he felt ghosted during the period post moving out of his old apartment and my aunt’s passing. While I will admit that I was grateful for the pause, and had a few moments where I considered dropping him entirely because of how exhausting he can be, I hadn’t intentionally “emotionally ghosted” him. We were both tied up adjusting to life changes. I was busy, and as y’all know, wallowing in a nice deep hole of depression for a few weeks. Handling my tempest of emotions while also attending to Matt’s emotional needs was a no-go. Additionally, his girlfriend went to some stupid underground rave and immediately got covid, and then passed it on to him. I didn’t want to be anywhere near any of that foolishness, and I was incredibly annoyed with his tendency to be cavalier in exposing himself to covid. He frequently attended maskless family gatherings and seldom wore a mask going about his daily errands. I reached a point where I told him that I would no longer see him if he didn’t get tested prior to our weekly get togethers. I didn’t think he would do it, and in a way, I hoped he wouldn’t. I was looking for excuses to limit our time together. But! That was not what prompted our pause. I didn’t want to be responsible for hosting him in my studio now that he was back at home with his dad and girlfriend. And I had my own life to deal with. Anyway, he hit me up this past week for another get together.

Matt: I’m sorry for what I said before. I’d been drinking. I didn’t mean to accuse you of emotionally ghosting me.

Well, that was progress. I was a bit concerned that Matt was back on the booze, after sharing that he might be an alcoholic, but it wasn’t my job to police what he did in his free time.

Me: Thanks.

Matt: I’d love to get together and work on some music sometime. I want to write a song together.

Me: That would be nice.

It’s the only way he wriggles his way into my schedule lately. It’s hard to prioritize the people who bring less than $800 per session into my life. I don’t have much time, and I don’t have the energy to perform emotional and physical labor for less than $1k most of the time, let alone under $800. And Matt is all emotions. The last time we were together, he peppered me with questions about what he meant to me.

Matt: Am I your sweetest client?

Me: No,

He pouted.

Matt: Well, am I the most thoughtful?

Me: Uh, no.

Matt: Well, am I the best gift giver?

Me: Hmm. Nah.

Matt: Well, is there ANYTHING that makes me special?

Me: Um, well yeah. I don’t play music with anybody else. You have that.

Matt: Well… I guess that’s special.

He wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but he would accept it for the time being, and spin it around in his head until the next time I saw him. I wasn’t entirely trying to be mean, admittedly, I wasn’t trying to be nice. But he was none of those things. Matt is a good man. He works hard; is a caring family man; and thinks deeply about the world around him; but he is such a handful. He nags me to death; needles me with endless questions that are often google-able; and demands that I affirm his specialness and centrality in my thoughts. He knows better, and yet, he can’t stop himself from going there. Maybe that’s why we’ve lasted so long, but it’s also the reason why I’ve needed to take a break from our sessions. But being pushed to play music and learn new things is something I need, and Matt is the one who nags me into practicing. I will give him that: he pushed me to pick up guitar again, and that is something I will always appreciate. But clients don’t really know where they fit into my life or psyche. They push, trying to inhabit a space they imagine they occupy. They want to be friend or muse. They want true intimacy and privacy. And sometimes I wonder, *in my Samantha voice* “What about what I want?” What about what I need? Yes, money is one answer, but I also need the expansive relief of disclosure. And lately, I’m not sure if I’m getting that.

I know this entry is quite jumbled. I’ve been getting back on my feet lately, and I will be taking a little break from my numerous duties for a little vacation from Feb 28 - March 7. I’m working double time to compensate for my absence, which has run me ragged. I need the break so badly. So! This is what I will be doing: this weekend I will be posting one last entry pre-trip, then the following week I will be reposting an old favorite from my earlier blogging days. I have not forgotten my lovely friends supporting me with the higher tiers of giving, and I will be sending out gifts and doing AMA’s this week, so stay tuned. I really appreciate everyone willing to give a bit extra. It blows my mind more than a million orgasms to know that I have such a dedicated, supportive audience. I have recorded extra episodes of Heaux in the Kneaux, and my lovely assistant and cohost will keep that going during my break. I’m going to spend some time in Arizona, going to national parks and camping in the desert. I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without a vacation, and lately it’s felt like I’m treading through mud. Hopefully the break will give me back some vitality to create more good work. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to send me a message. I will actually check them this week. Sometimes my anxiety gets the best of me reading my messages. Hope y’all are staying strong and finding joy in this difficult time.