honesty in whoring
i'm really getting off on coming out lately. i am a whore. and a proud one at that.
this weekend i was obligated to show an old high school friend around the big city. he was a geek back then, but so was i in the geeky, freaky, theatre, hippy slut sense (just think lunches in the library, thrift store wardrobe, and a black vinyl prom dress). only his social skills haven't exactly blossomed in the four years since.
he is (self-proclaimed) incapable of small talk and as my knowledge of comics is fairly limited to strangers in paradise, hothead paisan, bitchy bitch, and dykes to watch out for, the conversation floundered. i'm sure my stress and exhaustion inhibitied conversational skills didn't exactly help the situation. i was able to pump it for an ample time but i began to fell like i was on a date with a client where the obligation of comfort and entertainment is upon me as a professional. brainstorm!
"so, my friends and i are trying to put together a sex workers collective" and i launched right into the schpeal, which was a good exercise as we're really ironing out mission statements and the basic foundations right now. he blushed and got flustered and managed a "but... huh?" at which point i said, "M..., I'm a whore."
awkward slurp of the lemonade as i examine his reaction. let him process a moment. "so, do you have any questions?" i figure we might as well turn it in to a teaching moment, challenging assumptions, informing the public, busting stereotypes and the like. "no, not really. that's your business." (ba dum dum). we discussed why he was surprised. he had never "thought of me like that." he knew i was "open" sexually, but "not in that way... I mean, you're not that kind of girl." and off went the discourse and dialogue, although it was admittedly more of a monologue.
i feel a little guilty, like i selfishly unloaded this on him to shock him or something. i will admit i did it to challenge his assumptions, as he had made some offensive little comment about a former playboy playmate writing for his magazine, along the implied lines of "who knew someone like that could write". i also will admit i was searching for something to fill the painful gap in conversation.
but i am not ashamed. i am at a point where i don't want any new friends who aren't cool with my sexwork. not in the terms of "as long as it doesn't affect me, i don't care" because that is not enough. i deserve more than that. i want support, godammit. and i'm not wasting my time on endeavors that won't deliver.
-----
rereading in the morning, i realize this post sounds a bit harsh. it was a rant more about a general theme lately than saturday night specifically. overall, i had a nice time and look forward to seeing my friend again. it was just an awkward evening, to be expected four years later.
this weekend i was obligated to show an old high school friend around the big city. he was a geek back then, but so was i in the geeky, freaky, theatre, hippy slut sense (just think lunches in the library, thrift store wardrobe, and a black vinyl prom dress). only his social skills haven't exactly blossomed in the four years since.
he is (self-proclaimed) incapable of small talk and as my knowledge of comics is fairly limited to strangers in paradise, hothead paisan, bitchy bitch, and dykes to watch out for, the conversation floundered. i'm sure my stress and exhaustion inhibitied conversational skills didn't exactly help the situation. i was able to pump it for an ample time but i began to fell like i was on a date with a client where the obligation of comfort and entertainment is upon me as a professional. brainstorm!
"so, my friends and i are trying to put together a sex workers collective" and i launched right into the schpeal, which was a good exercise as we're really ironing out mission statements and the basic foundations right now. he blushed and got flustered and managed a "but... huh?" at which point i said, "M..., I'm a whore."
awkward slurp of the lemonade as i examine his reaction. let him process a moment. "so, do you have any questions?" i figure we might as well turn it in to a teaching moment, challenging assumptions, informing the public, busting stereotypes and the like. "no, not really. that's your business." (ba dum dum). we discussed why he was surprised. he had never "thought of me like that." he knew i was "open" sexually, but "not in that way... I mean, you're not that kind of girl." and off went the discourse and dialogue, although it was admittedly more of a monologue.
i feel a little guilty, like i selfishly unloaded this on him to shock him or something. i will admit i did it to challenge his assumptions, as he had made some offensive little comment about a former playboy playmate writing for his magazine, along the implied lines of "who knew someone like that could write". i also will admit i was searching for something to fill the painful gap in conversation.
but i am not ashamed. i am at a point where i don't want any new friends who aren't cool with my sexwork. not in the terms of "as long as it doesn't affect me, i don't care" because that is not enough. i deserve more than that. i want support, godammit. and i'm not wasting my time on endeavors that won't deliver.
-----
rereading in the morning, i realize this post sounds a bit harsh. it was a rant more about a general theme lately than saturday night specifically. overall, i had a nice time and look forward to seeing my friend again. it was just an awkward evening, to be expected four years later.
posted by Jane Vincent at 8:27 PM
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