Silly traditions…

22 Oct

Oh, day.
As much as I told myself I would not bring up a certain writer as I am easily distracted by the fantasy of desk sex….I live in Hollywood now…(Los Angeles Suburbia….with relatives, whatever….) and I feel like I’ve cheated my readers in joining in on what happens when you try to make over the character of a whore. Going from “Whore” to “Reformed Whore.” I feel like its important I share my normal adventures with you too – if I jump ship from adult industry ville to normal ville, and there are people out there who still accept me and embrace me as a human being, then that’s gonna cause a lot of you who have previously worried so much about public opinion…to re-think how much public opinion matters.

I want you to forget public opinion, and for a second focus on the people that matter. Working in a Brothel has done more for me than any other because its allowed me to realize that my happiness never ever has to rely on the opinions of others. Women are brought up to look to others for approval. Now, I don’t feel like I have to so much. That feels great.

Its interesting how quickly my new life on the outside has shifted to attracting really cool and non-judgmental people. The priority shifted from approval-based relationships to people saying, “fuck, this girl kicks ass, I don’t give a shit what she did for a living.” I’ve now chosen to spend the bulk of my time with THOSE COOL people, instead of the vacant and needy assholes. I made plans to go to lunch with one of these assholes. Yet something in me changed: I couldn’t bear going to lunch only to hear how much this person disapproves of everything I do. When it came time to us to figure out where we were eating, I flaked. I didn’t even have the decency to pick up the phone. Now I’m the asshole, right?

People are now full of surprises. Just today, a GF of mine texted me saying, “I want to get into phone sex. I need more money. What do I do?”

Back to the gentleman.
I will be chronicling how things come together.
I want you to know whether I sink or swim in real life.

The Non-Date
The writer and I went to eat late last night at Toi on Sunset…the kind of hipster-ville place that makes me cringe for its upper echelon hipster bullshit, but it was his idea, not mine, so I said okay. I asked him to go eat. He upgraded to this particular place. Deal. (YES, I did mention Beyonce when he wanted to “Upgrade.” Being a ho makes you reference hip hop songs. This bad habit has to stop.)

The Accountability Buddy

Rewind back to a couple days ago when I was grabbing some drinks with my virgin friend. She’s been holding me “accountable” lately. Church-goers do that. She’s been keeping me in check, helping me transition back to normalcy, makes sure I move at a normal people pace, rather than a ho-pace. So I tell her about my man-outings. The writer….the virgin, the ho: We’re all mutual friends of sorts. She wanted to know if I was “dating” Mr. Writer and whether or not it was a “thing.” My VB (“Virgin Buddy”) being the traditionalist she is, expected me to chime in with some story that sounded like a lead-in to her ideal of a picket fence existence.

Because this man is so far from any traditionalist I have experienced, my professional opinion tells me that none of the typical rules apply to him.

You can only listen to your intuition when dealing with a non-traditionalist. When you get two non traditionalists together (I’m one too, duh!), their only hope is by starting from scratch and creating their own formulas and patterns that they like to stick with and follow. When you are the “unreasonable man trying to create progress” (to paraphrase George Bernard Shaw) this makes seeking the approval of your closest friends and confidants obsolete.

Back to the Non-Date
Eating dinner, with him, I’ve learned that the typical process now makes me INCREDIBLY nervous. YES. Normalcy makes me even more nervous now than it did before I was a whore.

Why? Because I can imagine the following scenario of what might happen if my “Whore Auto Pilot Switch” gets flipped on. Put me in similar surroundings and suddenly I’ll be reverting to old routines of taking a guy by the hand to fuck him as quickly as possible. I imagine the feeling is the same as when a junkie encounters a needle, or an AA member tries to go to a bar. I think as long as I don’t end up on the left side of a small dive bar with him sitting on my right and ghetto hip hop blasting in the background (detailed, I know) , I’ll be ok.

Life before Whoredom
Before I was a ho, I was anti-tradition, and pro taking a guy by the hand to fuck him…and I was always, ALWAYS anti-dating. I view dating as, “lets put on an act so I can make you love me.” What do you get when the acting stops? You figure out you have two people who aren’t in love. It’s sad when people fall for the ol’ Storybook Ending, Hallmark Card Love Trap. Especially if they aren’t financially prepared for such culturally imposed obligations. I find it sad.

My job has changed me. Ive gotten GREAT at tuning out shitty stuff…but I’ve also gotten way better at tuning IN to real life. Meaning….simple details.

I like that he’s a bit older and he uses big words that I don’t know. I like that when he talks about his work his eyes sparkle. I like that when he talks about hiring an intern, he blushes intensely. I like that the gears of his brain are not solely run by his dick, like the majority of the male population.

I’m less bothered by secrets and personal details.
I let guys keep many more of them now.
I am WAY less paranoid.
I’m able to tell when somebody means what they say, while also having them maintain some confidentiality about their past. In fact, I LIKE an air of mystery.
It lets women be women, and men be manly.

I feel like modern times are WAY TOO INTO knowing all the cheap details of who dates who.

At some point, it aint relevant beyond the 100th dick. (Herpes aside….)

Once upon a time I can remember being a wee lass desperate to figure out why my BF at the time (my 2nd BF ever) didn’t love me. I found old love letters. I found photos. I found emails I didn’t want to see.

Now, I would never do that. If I can make it through a year of trusting my body to people I hardly know and come out unscathed….I think I can trust someone enough to let time show the answers, rather than modern day snooping.

You know you are close to free when facebook becomes a social networking tool, not a stalking tool.
Everyone loves,
everyone loses.
It’s normal.
Keep going.

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