As a sex worker and a artist, my sex work is my art and my art is my sex work. How can it be seperate? How can anyone know that everything I do in my sex work has a artistic, intentional concept, when that concept is to be a sex worker being authentically myself? Where does the work stop and the art begin? How can I be focusing on my art when I need it as work to make me money to survive in the world? Its kind of like a artist having to make work that is more commercial so they can make thier conceptual pieces. Sitting on cam, slogging away to make enough money to eat and pay rent, doesnt feel like art. But the fact that I have chosen sex work to survive is art. The way I work, the snapshot, slip shod, overly real, emotional, reactive, reality I expose is the art. But it also just who I am and have no control over. But that free sharing of my authentic self in its painful reality is why its art. Im not performing being a sex worker. I am pushing the concept of sex work and its intersection with the self and my art as one whole piece. Like Lady Gaga. She is Lady Gaga. But becoming a pop star was her perfromance art. She isnt a false persona. But her choice to share her real self in that role is the art. I could perform being a sex worker, by doing the job better. I could not see it as art and do all the things you are supposed to do, the marketing, the editing, the buisness plan, the pushing for goals and growth. But I am not performing the job of sex worker. I am performing myself as a sex worker. Using sex work as the vehicle to share the most authentic, raw and naked version of my self that I have no other space to share it in. Cause my art is and always has been about me and my sex life and sexuality. So am I even a sex worker? Is all I am doing just art that I am displaying in its original context rather than placing it in a gallery and claiming I am better and other from sex workers. I am not commenting on sex work. I am doing sex work as its is the only place I can share my art. My art is my naked body and how I use it. How I have sex. How I masturbate. The thoughts I have on feminism and sexuality arent theoretical. They are my every day reality. I am living it. Not writing about it from a distance or a position of comentary or observation. Is me saying this is art enough? I am ready to start working on more art and making more of the art I want for the sake of art rather than the need to do sex work for money. And in that process I think it may all become more clear.
Category: Feminsim
I am DONE with men. All men. It is time, after 30 years of putting them first and getting zero in return, to cut the fuckers out my life.
I have spent the last few years being incredibly protective and defensive of myself after years of abuse and harassment from men. Men in the street, at bars and clubs, on dating apps, in relationships, after one night stands. Over and over. It got to the point where I couldn’t leave my house without at least 5 men sexually approaching me EVERY DAY. The first year in the bus I didn’t wear shorts once. I wore hats, large clothes, baggy hoodies, to hide my femininity, so men wouldn’t see an attractive woman alone in a bus. I have spent the last 5 years avoiding all social situations where I have to interact with men where I don’t know their intentions. I have called other women stupid for putting themselves in obvious situations with men that lead them to being harrased, raped, hit on, or attacked. It had gotten to the point where I knew it was irresponsible for me or other women to be alone with any man you aren’t sexually interested in yourself. I’ve had married bosses proposition me, tour leaders on trips rape me, strangers approach me constantly. One time I’ve given an older man the benefit of the doubt during a nice chat at starbucks that seemed genuine, intelligent and platonic, and gave him my number so we could share more ideas. This man was older than my father. He went bat shit crazy. Hitting on me and then abusing me when I rejected him. A man in his 60s. This has all meant I’ve spent the last few years rejecting seemingly innocent or pleasant social interactions or developing friendships with anyone, avoiding certain social opportunities and basically being trapped inside myself. I realised I couldn’t be myself around people. When im open, confident, caring and happy, fully free to be me, men abuse me. So I started hiding myself. Becoming defensive, more angry, more shut off from the world. Just so people wouldn’t like me so much.
The past couple of months, with the help of a good therapist, I have started to get back into myself. Reconnect with who I am and how I bring myself joy. To get back to being able to be me, comfortably, happily, freely. And this has been going very well. I’ve been going to AA meetings and growing my ability to socialize. In this vein of growth and challenging myself, when one of the sweet old men in the group offered to take me on a hike, I agreed. I spent many days weighing up my decision. Was I being stupid and putting myself in a bad situation? Am I asking for trouble? What are his motives? What are my fears? Why am I so scared to do something so simple and innocent and nice with another human? How will I be able to ever connect to anyone if I don’t practice? I cried many times in the week before the hike. I was so scared. Scared to socialize in a platonic way as I am so out of practice. Scared he will annoy me and I’ll have a shit time and waste my day off. Scared of all the shit that has gone before and why I isolate. But here was a man, in AA, good friends with other members I know, old, ex adventure guide, with a passion for hiking and the local area to match mine. A safe person. Right?
Wrong! 12 miles in to the hike, and thankfully only 2 miles from the end, he proceeded to inform me of his attraction to me. Physical from the start and now even more interested in my personality and attitude. This all came out cause I asked how old he was. And he was embarresed to tell me cause he fucking fancied me. And the whole fucking thing had been driven by that motivator for him. I had an inkling. 2 miles into the hike we passed a couple of women, older than me, younger than him. He told them some history on the hike and when they asked if he was a guide he said ” No, I just get to take very attractive women out on hikes every now and then.” Cringe. But a harmless funny old man comment, right? Wrong. At lunch when I was talking about the love I have for the area and my passion to be a part of it, he said he was feeling the same thing between us as the first time he saw me and we looked at each other a certain way and asked if I remembered that. I played that off as a connection and understanding about our energy and love for the land. 7 miles off trail there isn’t much more you can do to avoid the situation when you have 5 more hours to spend together. So when he finally came out and said it and tagged on a story about his ex who was 24 years younger and couldn’t handle the age gap, I ended up blathering on about my moms ex who was 15 years older and she couldn’t handle that gap. And then onto my negative experiences with men and how it affects me and thus I how at the moment I currently choosing me and avoiding men. He wasn’t asking me out or anything direct, just expressing an attraction. At the bottom of a 800ft climb. So I couldn’t reject him or shut him down. Especially when he talked more about being alone for 8 years and how hard it is. I didn’t want to hurt or upset him. But WHAT THE FUCK DUDE? You met me at AA. You aren’t a year sober yet. You are 28 years older than me. We are alone in the wilderness. You made no indication that your motivation for spending time together was romantic or sexual. And you spring this shit on me.
I had spent the day until that point being me. Freely, happy, confident. I wasn’t overthinking what I was saying. I wasn’t worried about how I came across. I wasn’t being defensive or protective. I was, I thought, with a friend I could relax with. But the more me I became, the more he liked me. My heart sank in that moment and I spent the rest of the hike back into the uncomfortable, blathering about things, over thinking, talking to fill silence, anxious, closed, protected state I am used to. I stuffed the thoughts and feelings related to this betrayal down and didn’t let myself think or dwell on it…till I got home. I had to drive him home, where he offered dinner and a shower and then invited me to a movie or something, some way to spend more time together. I awkwardly denied the dinner stating I was too tired. But as I had a good day I said I had enjoyed the time and non comitially agreed we should do something else some time. And then I drove off alone.
That is when the disappointment set in. Yesterday was meant to be an experiment for me to socialise in a pleasant way with someone with similar interests, to help me grow, to open me up. But instead it turned in to every single other experience I’ve had with men like this. I was and am so hurt that he couldn’t just see me for mea and just want to know me as a friend. That it had to inculde my looks and sex and attration and wanting something from me. All men want something from me. Its my fucking job to give men what they want from me. But at least in that dynamic they pay me. Other men I’m interested in only want the sex and not to know me at all. And the rest of all men just want me and want things from me with zero connection to reality about whether they are someone I would be interested in and can’t comprehend just being friends with me. I was and am angry at myself for putting myself in the situation in the first place. Stupid girl. I’m ready to quit AA and leave my favorite place in the world cause I feel so uncomfortable. I am disappointed and angry and sad at myself for how I handled the situation…AGAIN. Being nice, giggly, trying not to hurt his feelings, being gentle, leaving the door open and not being assertive or myself in any way. Feeling walked over. And so so so so so so so disappointed.
I had to have my mom call me from england at 4am her time to help me deal with this and not run away or fall into depression and anxiety, isolationism and anger. I have a VERY fragile mental health condition that is in early days of recovery. A mental illness that will kill me if one more person affects me the way others have in the past. So I am getting a lot of help and support at the moment. She helped me reign in my fear and desire to leave. She talked to me about “Fierce Conversations” and coming up with a plan for me to be able to reject men in a clear and firm way that sits much better with who I am personally and professionally. And we talked about how I can plan to deal with the situation with this man who is at every fucking AA meeting i NEED to go to. She stopped me escalating into the all the other problems that come from my interactions with men and acknowledged they are things we can address in the future. Allll the while, i was feeling guilty for feeling so bad about a sweet, old, sad, lonely man. The guilt and empathy fills me with sickness and sadness that is balanced out with anger, frustration, confusion, annoyance, and so much disappointment. But by the end of the conversation, I was feeling much less like throwing my life away to escape a man…again.
However I am going to be avoiding AA for the next few days. I am going to a women’s meeting tonight where I am going to get an older female sponsor. I am going to be leaving town to park up out in the wilderness to escape all people while I recover for a few days. And more importantly than any of that, I am going to be saying No to anything with ALL men from now on.
Because of this straw, the camel’s back has been broken. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. So after 30 years of trying to make it work with men, I give up. I quit. I’m out. Im done. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.
The last month or so, my new motto has been “choose me”. I had already decided to avoid sexual interactions with men as that is a whole other can of worms on how that doesn’t work out for me and damages me every time. I had hoped that meant I could develop my non sexual relationships with men, people with whom I can do the activities I value. But that clearly just isn’t going to work. Men HAVE to be off the table. No men. Work on growing my connection to women and developing my skills at meeting women. Only women.
My job, that I love with all my soul is providing a service for men who are willing to make it a mutually beneficial situation. Those men respect me and my role. The dynamic is simple. And in my work I intentionally educate and inform men of the ways I see them acting or speaking in toxic or problematic ways. I reject and inform in a kind and fun way that I cannot do in real life. Online, at work, the dynamic with men is one I value and enjoy. So this part of my life I can throw myself into and spend all that real life man energy on. Interacting with men like this is actually choosing me. I get to be fully freely, happily, confidently me in that environment, and build my business and grow my income. But that is where my interaction with men will end. At work.
In real life, I will be saying No, assertively, in all situations involving men for a while. I dont want a random chat in the grocery store, I dont want to offer support in AA, I dont want to use dating apps, I dont want to fuck, I dont want a relationship, I dont want a male friend, I dont want to do activities, I dont want you to exist in my world, at all. I dont need men. Men universally let women down. They dont show up, they take advantage, they abuse, harrass, rape, ignore, fight, push boundaries and generally are out for what they can get of me. They do not add to my life. They steal my light and leave me broken on the floor.
Men don’t bring me any light or positivity. So for now I am off men. Its over. For now, I’m choosing me.
Edit to add: As I posted this I got a call, from my mechanic……asking to fucking camp with me this weeknend. YES. ALL MEN.
I am still thinking, as I am in most of my previous writing I’ve collected for this blog, about a way to be able to express my sexuality and get my sexual needs fulfilled. I tried, very foolishly to have a conversation with a boy over text message about the things women keep silent about in sex. It did not go well, and no matter how woke and on my level in other areas a boy may seem, that does not mean he has progressed any further from the least woke man with his sexuality. Good to learn. One thing that stuck with me from that conversation was one statement.
“I don’t think I’m actively trying to block your sexuality or the way you want to be.”
And that is the problem. They don’t know. They have no concept of what they could be blocking cause they have no concept of what female sexuality truly can be. They don’t know that they are filling the metaphorical silence in sex by being the aggressor, the one to take action, the one to make the moves, to determine the pace, to direct the penis. By not giving me the space to display my sexuality, you are, in effect, blocking it. By determining which sex acts happen and when after my interest has been shown, a man is not letting me be the way I want to be.
I am lucky enough to be completely free with my body and sexuality…in my mind, conceptually, when I am alone, or when I’m in a sex work environment that enables me and gives me the power and places the rules and boundaries in my hands. All the different elements of sex work I have done have given me immense confidence in my innate sexiness, how to move my body, how to incorporate dance and sex. Dancing on stage for stripping and also years of DJing and partying at clubs around the world, dancing on stages from the age of 15 to 30, gives me confidence to enjoy my own moves. The years of masturbating and self exploration have left me deeply knowledgeable about my vagina, orgasms and their capabilities, and the likes and dislikes of my vagina. The large amount of partners I’ve had frees me from the insecurity and awkwardness of being with a new naked person. With all this freedom and confidence I am finding the deep fantasies of how I want to able to perform sexually.
However without telling a man prior to the sex that there is to be an agreement where they are a passive consumer of my sexuality and trust them to behave and react accordingly based off my wants and needs for the scenario, I cannot do this. Most men don’t want to be passive toys, as women are, so basically, I don’t get to do what I want.
The “what I want” is the subject here today. I want to write down the sex I want to have, the me I want to be able to be in the bedroom. Because I think that with the privilege of freedom I have over my mind, body and sexuality, I am actually closer to finding what is the true nature of my feminine sexuality. And what I am realizing is it is getting vaster and vaster. This is just one expression of that sexuality I wish I could share.
I want to be able to be performative in my sexual acts. I want to be a goddess. I want to show off. I don’t want to be suppressed, manipulated, have sexual acts performed on my repose body. I want to dance. I want to seduce a man and myself with moving my body in an erotic and sexual way. Dance, not like you have to in the confined, self conscious and restrained way as in a nightclub, but with the passion, excitement and abandon of having your own private sexual stage. Do floor work, roll around, climb up and down your man, move your body in ways that feels good, feel yourself. Seduce. Build up the energy and excitement. Perform.
Animals perform many rituals in order to have sex, they show off plumage, display engorged genitals, they dance together, sometimes its the male animal that has to display to get sex, sometimes its the female. Humans are no different. We would have had our animal ways of attracting each other, which has now been taken over by capitalistic and possessive displays of love. However I personally am striving to get back to the animal. I want to fulfill my natural feminine animal sexuality. Let me be a peacock every now and then.
Let me use everything I’ve learnt over the years. Let me give you a lap dance. The kind that I crave but the kind that would get me fired for giving in a professional setting. Let me grind my body all over you. Tease you. Tickle your neck. Let me use my hips, pussy and ass on your lap to work myself up, so I’m desperately horny. Clothes still on. Panties wet. Let me make eye contact with you as I slide down your body and away from you, where I can strip, sensually and with all the skill I’ve gained over my life. Not in the awkward fumbling way you would if you were locked in a kiss and trying to just get on with the sex without drawing too much attention to it. Let me keep staring at you as I show you my body, spread my legs, run my hands over my skin, pinch my nipples, and spread my wetness over my pussy. Let me show you how I touch myself. You still don’t move. I am still just displaying myself to you. Take note of what I do to my pussy. You don’t need to be doing anything more brutal to it than I do.
Let me get in your lap again, naked and spread my juices over your pants, feel me on your stomach. Your hands can touch my skin, my breasts, but you don’t need to touch my pussy. That’s not whats happening yet. Let me peel your shirt off, so you can feel my skin against yours, my lips on your neck, shoulders, chest. Let me slide down your body and tease your hips and sides, unbuckle your belt and loosen your pants. When I want it, come with me to the bed and let me pull them off. And carry on my dance with your body. Let me feel your skin, stroke you, kiss you, feel your energy, feel what your body needs. Lay back and let rub my skin all over your body. Feel how amazing it feels just to enjoy skin on skin contact. Soft smooth skin on skin is like drugs to me. I can spend hours just enjoying the sensations of having another naked human close to me. Let me roll you onto your front and I’ll give you a body massage, from tapping into what I know you need. I want to use all the parts of my body I can to give you the energy and healing you need, where you need it. Then roll you back on your back and carry on.
When you are as relaxed and open as I am, I want to step up the pace. I want you naked. I want to meet your cock. I want to look at it. Caress it. Feel how hard it is. See it, acknowlege it, comprehend it. Then I want to climb back up your body to get your tongue in my mouth. And I really want it in my mouth. I love kissing. So deep its too much. Just as long as you can do that without excess spit! I hate spit. But kiss me with force, use your tongue, get wierd and gross, but not in a tongue flicky porn kind of way, but a deep, sensual, erotic coupling. Let the kissing be everything. I dont need anything else. Roll around with it, entwine. Let me grind, dont force me down onto body parts to give me the friction YOU think I need. Show me that you will let me do what I want and what feels good to ME.
Then I want your hands on my pussy. But not in any way you know how. I dont even know how to get someone to touch my pussy in the way I want. But I know there are things I want to happen that don’t! It is something like a need for more general, light but firm stimulation, than the specifically focused, hard, aggressive attention it gets usually. I want both hands down there doing work. One isn’t enough. I don’t want you lying up here with me, your arms stretched to reach my pussy. Get down there, rest your head on my thigh if you need, but fucking work on my pussy like you’re petting a kitten. Hold it, caress it, don’t stab it with ignorant fingers, probe gently, with stimulation happening in other places at the same time. Maybe we can be top to toe so I can gently handle your cock too, teasing it, stroking it, enjoying having my own beautiful toy to play with, while you are at a easier level to reach everything I need stimulating. If you do that right, I’ll probably have already cum.
I want to move on from things when I am ready, not to be rushed, and not to carry on doing things after I loose the fire for it. I fucking love sucking dick. I love focusing entirely on how the cock feels in my mouth. I let my mouth do what it wants, all that exists in the sensations, all i am is sensual energy and pleasure. I have no body That is when I experience flow. Im not gonna play up to porn or cliches about how to suck good dick, hard, fast, deep, because that shit hurts. Im gonna suck it in the way that gets my pussy dripping between my thighs. Let me at the balls, the taint, and if I really like you, let my dip down to the little rosebud of the asshole. Do not, ever, for one second, put your fucking hands ANYWHERE near my head, shoulders, or neck. We definitely, 100% do not need that. It is fucking gross. FOR WHATEVER FUCKING REASON YOU DO IT. Unless the woman begs you to do it, dont, fucking, do it.
If I’m really wound up I might want to try to deep throat your cock. My throat is small though and I don’t need any pain. Let me deprive myself of air on your cock, let me hold it as deep as it feels good, as long as want, till when I come up for air, I’m gasping and left even more turned on. I may want to suck your cock for 5 minutes or 50 minutes. However long I’m enjoying it. And when i’m done, im done.
And when I’m done, my pussy will be so wet, that there will be a snail trail down to my knees. Enjoy it. Appreciate how fucking wet sucking your dick got my pussy. Then taste it. Let me relax for a few minutes, I’ll lay back and you can go back to using your two hands and mouth to explore my vagina. Kiss my pussy like you kiss a mouth. Its not all pokey tongue bullshit or lapping at the damn clit. If you are too fucking scared to really lock lips with a pussy, then get the fuck out of there. But I am not scared of how I taste or what is going on down there so you better not be either.
If I’m really enjoying your mouth and face on my pussy or feeling like taking control again, I wanna ride your face. Now, until recently, this was something I had never done fully. I thought I’d done it. And I did notttt like it. I would hover above a guy, not letting my weight onto him, not sure of what direction to angle my pussy, insecure, and in no way enjoying a single second of what felt like having my vagina spread and dangley with someone slopping at it. I knew nothing of what it was like to let go on top of a man. Until the last time I did it. I had already fucked his ass, and he really wanted me to fuck his face. So I did. And god damn. I sat on him with my full weight, intentionally angled myself to how my body and pussy was comfortable instead of what I felt was more comfortable for him, and rather that letting my pussy dangle in his mouth, i used his face like i would have been grinding in your lap earlier. I held his hair and i slid my pussy across his mouth from clit to asshole, pausing to get his tongue in my pussy and asshole too. I didnt care that it was a human under me. It was something that felt good for me to hump. I watched myself in the mirror and loved the power of smothering him, forcing him to take big gulps of pussy. And I came. A lot. But dont be rough with your mouth. With the weight of me on your mouth, you dont need to press up with any force. Let me decide the pressure. Let me use your face to cum.
And that is when I want to be filled up. I cant wait an longer. I need to feel your full size inside me. If I am really worked up, I can cum as soon as it slides inside me. That is the best feeling for me, and I hope the man, that his dick can make me cum instantly. So let me decide when it goes in, and how. Let me use the head of your cock to tease the entrance of my vagina, rub it over my clit, back down to my entrance and let me focus on enjoying that. Dont think that ramming it up into me as a surprise and a masculine way to fill me up, will be good for me, it wont. I can enjoy having the entrance of my pussy teased with your cock while my mouth is locked on yours for a very long time. It is one of my favorite things. The, is it gonna slip in or not. The wiggling around to get it to line up with my entrance. The feeling of my sopping wet pussy sliding over your dick, of me softly grinding against it, clenching my pelvic floor so it cant slip into my entrance. Teasing the tip inside eventually, clenching and releasing my muscles, welcoming the dick, slowly and gently into my most sensitive and special area. Let me be mentally begging for that dick to finally fill me up. Let me keep teasing my pussy as it slides inside so, when it does finally fill me up, I can cum on that cock.
Now once its deep inside me, its going in and staying in. I dont want pumping, thrusting, fucking, pounding, railing, any of that shit. I want it inside me. I wanna see how your cock feels inside me. How it fits, what angle its at, how hard it feels, how your dick makes my pussy feel. I want to be able to see what my internal muscles can do. I wanna learn what the power of my pussy truly is. I want to enjoy that deep, filling, cock embrace. Like how we started, I want to grind on you, hump your lap, feel my clit against you, all my favorite bits in contact with you (side note…do. not. shave. that. shit. or even trim it too short. i really dont fucking care, you cant do it properly anyway and I get shaving rash and DO NOTTT enjoy griding on you).
Lets find positions where the angle of your cock inside me doesnt hurt, where it rubs all the best bits, positions where I can get my externals stimulated, or enjoy you using BOTH your hands to tease around my stretched pussy and asshole. I dont want to just be on top. I want you to fuck me like I show you. Let me keep it deep inside me, without much movement, as much as i want, cause just clenching my intenal muscles around a hard, warm cock, can make me cum. When I use a vibrator at home, alone, with no one watching ( and normally, never telling anyone) , I put it in, and it stays there. I dont pump my pussy. I enjoy squeezing it in my pussy with a vibrator on my clit. However AFTER I cum, when my pussy has relaxed and softened and I’m wet and sensitive enough, I like a bit of pumping. Let me tell you when.
I want to keep riding the wave of your dick, cuming over and over on it and enjoying its size inside me. I love slowing down the passion and creating space for sensuality and simple sensation during sex. Which is why I want to be able to hold your penis inside me and massage both of our genitals with each others. Not to be carrying on the sexual intessity, but to be truly present in the feeling and sensations and subtlety, intimacy and pleasure of having our parts molded together. Its a exquisite feeling. Dont dismiss it. Dont think its boring. If you think its boring you arent fully connected to your body or me, you arent being mindful or present. Value the tiny sensations our bodies can create between each other, revel in the subtle pleasure of slow, indulgent sex.
The slower and more sensual it gets, the longer we can continue this erotic experience, and the more orgasms I will have, until you know that the next time I cum, you will cum. I want you to cum. I wanna see you getting closer and closer, feel your cock getting harder, growing inside me. I want my pussy pulsing around your cock, until i tell you to fuck me hard and to cum for me. Ideally this would be with me face down, you straddling my legs, cock deep inside me, vibrator under me so I keep cumming as you pump at my pussy, hard and fast, till you pull out and cum deep inside me (the only part of my fantasy that cant be reality) while I cum again from the vibrator on my clit.
After all that I’ll probably be quite happy to just lie there, face down, unable to move, spent. Lie back down next to me until i am ready to move and enjoy the soothing, relaxing feelings of our skin of skin. you dont need to put any items of clothes on. I dont care that your cock is soft and small or that you might not be comfortable lying around naked, I want you to be.
In an ideal world, we would smoke a joint and caress our skin and talk gently about things until one of us is ready or wanting to start something again. This time it could be different. But only if we both want that. I could probably go for 3 – 4 – 10 sessions in a night. Not all long. But lots.
This is why women can’t just tell a man what she wants or likes. Its not as simple as, dont rub my clit so hard. Or use two hands please. Or sit back while I tease you. Its the whole act I want to lead. To show what I like and can do. With all my experience and confidence, even I cannot verbalize what I want or more specifically how to do it. What I want isnt to be “dominant” but to have the same lead role men usually do in the performance of pleasure for another. Its such a subtle shift in the sexual dynamic there is no equally subtle way to describe it or communicate it. We have to put our bodies in mens hands to trust they will do their best with it and that we will like it. Well I dont want or need to do that anymore.
How do I get to act out my alpha sexuality without telling a man, “you just sit there babe and let me do this, I got this. I have more experience and know my body better than you do, so just let me take care of the situation.” This desire I have isnt like saying I wanna try pegging, or splooshing. Its a power shift that cant be verbalized. Normal heterosexual men cant take it. Their ego and sexuality is too fragile. they want to impress. They want to perform. I dont want to have all the control all the time. I want the opportunity to have the control in the same way men do, when I want to, 50/50. I want men put their sexual experience in my hands and let me be the one directing and maneuvering and manipulating bodies. Let me share my expertise and have it appreciated like i do when I’m getting paid to fuck. Let me enjoy a mans body. Let me objectify his parts. Let me lust over his ass and nipples. Let me perform my true sexuality. Cause Ive got this. All women do, if we have the freedom to find out what our true nature, sexuality and desires are and we are given the space and freedom to perform them.
Argh I have stuff to do but i just need to write. i feel so good. yes. im pretty high but i have been having a lot of ideas, or thoughts this morning. i listened to a podcast about feminism and hear about Catherine Hakim and Economic Capital. She is everything I would say…..
…..I was trying to start writing about a feminist podcast that id been listening to and each time i re read it i needed to change it. i couldnt get it write. i cant get what i think in my head to make clear sense on the page. to a third person. that is what being good at writing must be. I cant communicate my ideas very well at all, but I can tell stories. Also formulating my own feminist theory isnt something I can probably bust out in half an hour in starbucks. so for now. I will only write about what i can comfortably enjoy re reading.
I felt like i had a million things to write when i came in and sat down, but trying to formulate that has left me much clearer headed. and less high. I think high time is ideas time and i need less thoughts when i write. all i did yesterday was sit in starbucks and build the website. it felt great. i was tired at the end of the day.
im supposed to be meeting someone here from tinder later, but ive already decided i dont want to. i missed that he had one of those faces that looks good in photos but not so much when its moving. its a thing. ive learnt to pick them out normally, but this conversation escalated to coffee invite before i got to fully check it out. Worst case though I talk to someone for an hour our so. I forget that most people dont expect immediate sex from a first meet! I think its cause more normal people are doing internet dating now, rather than it just being sex or marriage obsessed people, like it was 5 – 10 years ago. Im trying to remember now when my first online date was, when did I discover it. I might have to check my list. Ok. 30th June 2010. Tim. I remember him. We might even still be friends on Facebook. Plentlyoffish.com. My first tinder was 26th November 2013. Taylor. He was and is amazing. And I cant believe how many people i fucked in real life meeting!!!!! Out of my first 300, only FIFTEEN of them were off the internet! I literally cant believe it. But 30ish out of the last 45ish since my first tinder are off the internet. So the ratio of real life to internet changed dramatically! Ah the partying days. The Australia years. Ok. Work time.