The Chicken or The Egg? Which Came First?

Sitting on the bus today, I could not believe how stupid I have been with men. No, I shouldn’t say that. I do not believe how I, feminist, advocate of women's pleasure, advocate of sex, has allowed myself to be stupid with  myself.

When I was just a little girl, I decided that I was going to play the game of sex better than any man out there. I don't think I have ever been entirely sure of what that meant, but I do know that it would mean that I was not going to cry everytime I slept with a man if he didn’t call. I would not care if he called or not because to me the reward would not have been him calling; the reward would have or should have happened during our moment together (that's hoping he knows what he is doing).

As it turned out, I could not get rid of the men I slept with, even when I was convinced by fucking them right away, it was a sure way way to getting rid of them. Somehow they did not teach me in highschool: it is highschool boys that will not call you back if you fuck them too soon. However, the the older the man gets, and the quicker you fuck him, the more likely of a chance he has of calling you back.

For some reason many people have been telling me since the age of 14 that I woud always be in non-monogamous relationships. Personally I do not know why they held such beliefs as I, myself did not believe their ideas. I kept wondering to myself, had I had more pride in myself, would I still have ended up where I did? Working seemed like such a natural progression for me. Sex has always been a part of my life, even when I had it become physical. It wasn’t the act that I was interested in, but everything around it. I was always curious about the intereactions of men and women. So, I do not think of me becoming a ‘working girl’ as something that only happened because bad things happened to me. By the time I had made my choice to be a working girl, nothing bad had ever happened to me, and the evolutionary process of what was becoming my counscious life, my choice seemed logical.

After wondering if there were other trauma's in my life that caused me to make the choices I had, it wasn't until I was speaking with a friend of mine, someone with whom I work with, I learned (I should have remembered) that there is always more than one way to de-clothe a girl. She had started out as a very prim and proper housewife. Later, with a new partner in her life, she discovered, she wanted to pursue a life where ‘swinging’ was a part of their lifestyle together as a couple. It wasn't her job that started her desire to swing, it was the swinging that allowed her to even consider her job.

This made me feel better. I realized that it wasn’t because I have always chosen men who would take advantage of me that I become a red light district girl, but it was the fact that I had learned to close myself off (by the tender age of 10) and had no one to teach me to open up which enabled me to put myself into situations where I was emotionally and physically abused by lovers. This could also make sense as to why I feel so much more liked by my clients, because rarely do my clients ever push my boundaries. Nor do they ever try and push for services after I have said no. I have also learned to say no, which is another very important difference between my working life and my personal life. 

I do not know why this makes me feel better. But it does. It makes me realize that it is not broken girls (or only somewhat) broken girls who are able to become prostitutes. You see, one must be able to close themselves up from their lovers in order for them to not have their souls ripped from them.

I have a feeling that this goes for both men and women. Many women I know say there is no way that they could become prostitutes. Why, because they cannot just give themselves up to so someone unknown to them. They have not learned how to put up walls and block off their heart, because when you do give  yourself to a stranger/client like you normally would in your real life, and they leave after you do feel as though a part of you, a part of your soul has been taken. As for men, many men feel they cannot see a professional because they like the women I know do not know how to block themselves off from giving too much to their provider and thus end up feeling used.

However, I digress. The point of this post was to prove to myself that I was able to make the choice to become a working girl not because I was broken, but because at one point I was whole. The real question is, why did I feel I could not say no, even when I wanted to. Or why did men take advantage of me? Why did I not see them as taking advantage of me?

What Is Love? What is Rape?

 Forgive the sloppiness of this post. I am writing this because I need to finally get it out of my system. There is so much anger and pain, I cannot keep it bundled up. The grammar and ideas have not been fixed yet. Over time I will fix it. Please forgive my poor writing skills.

Can a woman be raped by her husband? The answer I can attest to, is yes. Yes she can.

For quite some time I had been complaining to an old lover that he was doing nothing to turn me on, he was doing nothing to make me want him. Only twice in 5 years had I had sex when I wanted to, and one of those time he himself stopped it. All I got in return was, "do whatever you need to do to get into a place so I can do these things." This should have been my biggest clue that my needs in a sexual relationship were perhaps thought about, but nothing would ever be done about it. Worst of all, I should have realized that when he spoke of having sex with his wife, he would always ensure that she came first before they had sex. Never was this an option for me. One would think I would have learned early on.

Yet, it wasn't until I can officially claim that I had sex when every molecule in my body screamed no, and for the first bit my partner didn't even notice, that I began to realize just how uncared for I was as a person. In the middle of our sex, he asked if he should stop. With ice in my voice, I said what is the point of you stopping now? He not only continued, but he was able to orgasm even though he knew I was incredibly unhappy.

Never, had a I felt more violate, more used, abused, and disgusted with myself. I kept telling myself, I never did say no, but then a little voice in my head would say, but how was it that he was able to stay hard?

After he and I discussed how hurt I was, it wasn't until I went back to work that I truly started to understand the effects that he had left on me. It just so happens that many of the same moves that my ex would do, thes men would do as well, and everytime they would do it, it took every ounce of strength and courage to stop me from killing them on the spot. It took every inch of courage, (I am convinced I had to glean strength from my ancestors) just to get through a normal session. When the session was over, I would be quivering with fear.

At one point I was convinced I had finally made this monster understand the damage that he had done to me. Yet, all he kept trying to do was to force himself upon me. "I promise I will make things right. Give me another chance (ie. have sex with me). When that wasn't going to happen, he would push kisses on me. Trying to shove his tongue into my mouth. I would pull, I would protest, but he did not care. He pushed. As he would say, he is a bully. (And he had the audacity to call me a bully).

When I finally made it clear that he and I would never speak to each other again, he said, no one will every love you as much as I do. I could only laugh at that statement. What hollow words. These words to me meant:  that for the past 5 years, sex was only about him. Even his wife got better treatment. But most important to me was how he would pretend I didn't exist in his life.

What made things worse is anther man in my life, someone who I consider a close friend, as long as I do not have to see him in a private setting has done the same thing to me. We got into an argument. Nitt as we will call him, said something to the effect that he is a monster because he realizes the damage he caused me when he would have sex with me even though he knew I didn't wanted it. Yet he would continually tell me that he would have these elaborate sexual fantasies about me. One time when I came over, he knew I wanted nothing sexual to happen wit him, so instead of something sexual, I laid there like a stone statue. I do not think I even breathed (he was convinced I didn't breathe). But he kept touching my arms, my legs, my stomach. Eventually, just through these touches he was able to orgasm in his pants. I let it happen. I allowed him to use me to get the pleasure he needed. He apologized profusely for it. Why do it if you know you will regret it. Why would I let it happen? Lack of care for myself. I didn't think I was allowed to say no. Whenever I said no, no one would ever stop, they just continued harrassing me. It was easier just to let them do it. I have been too good at closing myself off from the world.

However, it wasn't until someone actually made me feel as though my opinion counted that I realized what I was missing in the world.

My monster kept demanding "get to a place so I can give you pleasure." He could never understand that it was his responsibility to be the one to get me to that place. However, my White Knight in shining armor, a young man, was the one who finally convinced me that I was a real person. He wanted to go down on me and asked, what can I do to make you comfortable with it? He came up with some ideas too. I was so shocked I just about cried from happiness. How does a young man with so little experience in the world, especially in the world of sex, know to ask how he can make it better for me. How he can be the one to try and ease me into what he would love to do. How he made it about us; exploring each other.

The next week, after my rape, I have to admit even being with a man I loved was difficult. But he could see that I was tense and he took things so slowly with me. He would spend so much time just looking at me, touching me. Holding me. Finally, one morning we were having sex, yet the night before he had really hurt me with his fringers (I have a feeling I am more sensitive than most people). I had to go to work later that morning, and I tried to have sex with him. Every other man in my life would have had sex with me before I went to work to ensure, they got theirs first.

During sex, my Knight realized that I was not enjoying myself and that I was actually in pain. He asked if he should stop, and I of course, as usual said no. He kept going for about thirty seconds, but then he just got off slowly. I asked what was wrong and he looked at me and said "you have to go to work later, I am not going to be the one that hurts you. You need your body, I cannot take that from you."

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Never before has a man ever sacrificed himself like that for me. Never has my work come over his ego and his pleasure. I had been fighting a man who swore up and down that he loved me and when I accused him  of rape he still kept pushing. He said as long as I don't fuck anyone else (be it work or my Knight) then he will stop having sex with me and we can be friends, but if not, he will not wait around so that some Tom, Dick and Harry can have their way with me and he cannot. He pushed to kiss me, he pushed to 'prove' himself in bed. But my Knight just wanted what was best for me and that was to let my body heal.

Slowly as time passes with my Knight, I am beginning to realize the notion of how 'women must like their men before they have sex.' I wish I had learned how to feel that much earlier in my life. I wish I had learned how to say no. I wish I had learned how to love myself more. Do no get me wrong. My work has taught me more than I can explain. It has taught me just how important I am to myself. It has taught me how to protect myself both physically and mentally. It has taught me some interesting facts about the male gender as well. But I can finally understand the other side of the coin when women say, prostitution should not be a way of life.

It is true that a person must have a particular personality in order to give themselves up so freely, and so selflessly. For the first time in my life, I have a reason to now wish to do my work. I am losing my drive to work. That being said I would not have given up the experience. it is not something I would ever change. But for the first time in my life, I can finally see a world in which I do not want to be a prostitute.