A Girl’s Thoughts on the Oldest Profession

What makes some people amenable to things like sex work being legalized, homosexuality, and the concept that people have the right to do whatever kinky shit floats their boat? Why are other people walking around with brains that find these concepts so vulgar and threatening to their way of life that they go on anti-(insert name of abhorrent behavior here) crusades? Genetics vs. environment? I saw Trading Places, I know the argument. Could humans be born with a tolerance gene, and others with an I-Feel-Threatened-So-I-Must-Destroy-You-All gene? Thus far I have believed it was all environment; that the way you are raised and the things you are exposed to will determine your stance on that which is different from you. It is a demonstrated fact that people who have spent time around someone who is gay as a picnic basket will tend to have a more relaxed view of gay folks than a person who has only seen The Gays from afar, if at all. (Or so they think, but they just don’t know that their Uncle Joey, he of monster truck fame, loves to fuck the lithe young gas station attendant in town every Tuesday afternoon while his kids are at soccer practice.)

What has brought this on, you ask? Well, let me I tell you. Between doing a great number of actual work-like activities at the office (shocking, I know), I have been spending every available moment reading the blog archives of Belle de Jour, a London prostitute who has been writing about her life since 2003. Her blog, Diary of a London Call Girl, won a writing award, much to the dismay of those who consider themselves “real” writers (pompous fuckers, every one), and then she was offered a book deal. The results can be purchased here, if you so desire. I know I will need the book for my collection, because her blog is fantastic, and I am hooked. It will go on the shelf right next to I Was a Teenage Dominatrix.

I am fascinated by call girls, dominatrices, and the like. It has always been so and I cannot tell you why (genetic? Not!). I think they are wonderful, and that they do terribly important work. I’m serious! Imagine if their services suddenly stopped. Can you imagine the anger and pent-up emotion that would spew forth (pun intended) from much of the population and the horrid, horrid results? Perish the thought. There are certain services that need to be constantly provided to humanity, and it will always be so. And ladies, wouldn’t you rather find out that your man has been hiring a respectable call girl than find out he has been seeing his secretary and has fallen in love with the little minx? I sure as hell would. Of course, you don’t want the guy picking up streetwalkers, cuz of the disease factor and the legal/safety risks, but if you had to make the choice, wouldn’t you wanna know that he really truly was just getting sex? Maybe the professional is doing all the things you refused to do after you got the marriage license, like blow jobs and anal.

It happens all the time, right guys? Chicks do the “free introductory offer” thing. They pretend to love giving you blowjobs, then once they officially have you, the blowjob incident rate starts dropping like clothes off an overdressed whore in the Mississippi heat. (Just made that one up on the fly. Where’s my damn book deal, huh?! I am wicked talented, you bastards!) Because the truth is, not too many women LOVE blowing cock. Many do, and they do it for their own gratification, this I know. (If ya go gay, you will have all sorts of boys jump into the game for the love of blowing the almighty cock... just something to keep in mind) But by far, the majority of women pretend to love it in order to lure and hook the man they want. Then bye-bye blow me. So this is a place where the professional whore is helping you out most sincerely. She probably blows him, then happily takes it up the ass, then you get another month of not being bothered about such things. Everybody is happy. (Obviously there are dire consequences of such behavior that could dramatically affect a couple’s finances and whatnot, but that is realistic and boring, and therefore does not serve my current off-the-cuff bloggity mindset.)

This is the part where I admit things that might destroy me later when I try and do something respectable. But what the fuck; I will never go into politics. No, I was never a call girl. But many people, after seeing me in a corset and heels that put me at a lofty 6’5” and hearing how much I like weapons, would comment that I should be a dominatrix because I would make bank.

I heard that so many times that I seriously looked into it. My close friends know this already and are sick of hearing about it. I researched doms, talked to friends who had dated doms/call girls in the past, read blogs/web sites/books, asked many questions of a friend that used to run a dungeon, etc. I am a crazy good researcher and I learned a lot. I paid attention to the central themes.

First, the best doms said only get into this business for the love of the game, not for the money. Strike one: I was really only interested in the money, flexible hours, and a good reason to spend an obscene amount of money on custom corsets and sexy shoes. Besides, I would get off on making some big brute of a straight boy wail on my client while I watched; I tend to think clients would expect me to do the actual work. I just wanna fuck with their head is all it comes down to. I would wanna come up with all sorts of arcane shit that they would have to memorize and do, then punishments would be meted out based on how well they performed these ridiculously impractical tasks. Good times! Two, they said that if you went into the biz, you had to make peace with the fact that at some point, the police will harass you, and maybe even arrest you. Strike two: I conduct myself in a way designed to keep me out of the clutches of the police because I am have an irrational fear of being arrested or prosecuted or being hauled into court for any reason. (1/2009 update: In NYC, all sorts of doms are being arrested and prosecuted, which supports my point.) Three, the doms said to realize that being in the business changes you. Your personal relationships change, your view of men certainly changes, and you become more immersed in that world. Strike three: That don’t sound too good to the me, so I am saying no, thank you. I will just buy a corset now and then, and occasionally dream about how I might of made $400-600 an hour for being really hella mean to some squidly little CEO who makes more in a month than most people make in a lifetime.

I remember telling the ex-dungeon-master that I didn’t think I fit the personality type of a dom, because I don't usually like men who want me to be the dominant one in bed. My friend totally laughs, and says that is exactly the personality of the doms he has known: Bossy out of bed, passive in it. Interesting. At best, I am moody and particular, and at worst I can be a very controlling, bossy bitch. But still it was not enough to convince me. I genuinely like men and enjoy their company, and did not want my view of them to shift in a way that might negatively impact my intimate relationships.

(On the extremely rare chance that a dom might actually read my blog (not likely, since I only have three loyal non-dom readers), please post comments with your views and feel free to tell me I am thoroughly misguided. Or just offer me a job at $400 an hour.)

Tangents are my specialty, for feck’s sake, cuz I started this rant somewhere else entirely, didn’t I? Intolerance and rigidity, and genes versus environment. Right. People baffle me, and occasionally make me want to bludgeon them or run them through with one of my lovely titanium arrows. Previous rants in this blog have covered off on the fact that the most uptight, conservative Republican wanks have the most serious inclinations to kink and dirty, crazy sexual perversions. It is documented. These are the sorts of things that many call girls won’t even participate in. And these are the people who are most often on crusades against the very industries that serve their kink, because it pleases the constituency. They better be careful, because Thailand is cracking down on sex tourism, and these wanks will have no place left to go to rape 9-year-old Asian boys while sucking off a goat. Oh, people really piss me off.

I know my three loyal readers (bless you, every one) are a bunch of open-minded buggers, so I feel safe in positing a happy little fantasy world: imagine a place where prostitution, in all its flavors, is legal, taxed, and secure. Sex workers have health insurance, get tested all the time like porn stars do, and they have real government protection so they are safe as they work, and they have law enforcement agencies that will actively prosecute anyone who messes with them. This industry includes every last option you could think of: trannies, and gay-as-a-picnic-basket menfolk, lezzies of all sorts, some fattie boom booms (thank you Ali G, for that one), and everything else. The whole farm animal thing is still up in the air, and I will have to get back to you on that one. (Stop worryin' the sheep, lad!) Oh, I get the warm fuzzies just thinking about it. There is always a small percentage of the population that genuinely enjoys this sort of work, so there would never be a problem finding workers. It’s when the industry operates fully underground that people can easily be forced into it, manipulated, etc. As Belle de Jour said, “I think what consenting adults want to do should be their business, and the way to crack down on traffickers, pimps and abusers is not to put the girls out of sight of the public.”

So I have read about one year’s worth of Belle’s blog (midway through 2004 now), and am so enjoying her and her lovely ways, and I highly recommend that you do the same. Sure, the details of client interactions are titillating and enjoyable, but this woman is just funny, well-read, and quick on her stiletto-clad feet. When she won the writing award in 2004, people began assuming it was all a ruse, and that it was written by some well-known writer who was in it for a book deal. Whatever, fuckwits. Maybe you just cannot accept that a smart, sassy woman is a good writer AND able to make her way through the world of sex work in a happy, unapologetic way. For everyone accusing this chick of lying, there are credible people who assert that she is genuine. Both sides claim to have solid evidence supporting their opinion. Here is one article about that debate. I choose to believe that she is real because that is what makes me happy, and because there is a feel to the blog that is extremely genuine to me. My intuition has never failed me when it comes to judging people, so I am gonna go with that feeling. Her responses to her detractors are great, making for a very amusing read.

What if we isolated the Intolerance Gene? We could alter it by pumping constant, low voltage into it (the way they treat Parkinson’s), and maybe that would turn these folks into happy-go-lucky sensualists who think everyone is groovy and why can’t we all just get along? What a thought. But it would not play out that way, of course. The Intolerant Ones would lobby Congress and the fuckwit we call a president to promote the reverse brain procedure, so that us tolerant, loose morals types would be forced to get lobotomies to remove the offending bit of brain. Bugger. The bastards win again, even in this hypothetical world of mine. Not even my daydreams escape the evil and cynical RealityScope™ treatment.

In the meantime, I will eat cake, and have sex, and rail against the stupid, uptight system we call the U.S. of A., and write wordy blogs for my three dedicated readers. Your loyalty is appreciated. No, I will not give you blow jobs. I’m too busy applying for a patent of my fabulously glorious technique.

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Addition 12pm, 4.5.06: Read all of Belle's blog, and must report that the US editors of her book made her take out all sorts of references that make it a general twat-fest (not in a good way), and therefore, a purchase of the UK version is advised. She was made to remove her reference to Spinal Tap (noises of shock, indignation, and general disapointment). And the Simpsons! WTF? Makes no sense. She was pissed. And even worse, they made her take out cool shit, like referring to anal sex as A-Levels. Anyone familiar with the British educational system? Doy! This is why we Americans have ridiculous reputations abroad: One, we like to invade other people's countries, steal their resources while insulting their culture, and two, there are those among us that ruin everything by being prudish, incredibely stupid, and basically, just acting like American wankers. Bloody hell.

Other blogs my smut-minded readers might enjoy as much as I do: Jet Set Lara, Postmodern Courtesan, and the classic porn-ish Fleshbot.

And yes, I think Belle de Jour is a real person. So there.