Monday, November 22, 2004

adios adult friend finder

i officially closed my account today. after a 20 day trial, they provided zero clientele, including filtered messages. no love for aff.

so, i'm investigating alternative advertising for the new year. i don't know how i feel about the review sites, and i'm not invested enough to dole out a chunk of change at this point. i would like to renew efforts on the collective, but have to post personal business first if i ever want to get that off the ground.

i own a web page in addition to the eventual collective site (where i'm, misspellings and all). i could set it up for whoring, but wanted it to be for sex writing and activism and stuff, not that it couldn't be both. i just don't want to book dates and workshops through the same site.

it's just that time of reassessment again.

Sunday, November 21, 2004


i'm still trying to figure it out. if i accidentally dismiss your invite or don't respond immediately, please don't think i'm blowing you off. i just accidentally closed a message when i meant to open it. so, i'm sorry. please try again.
aim "educated jane"
yahoo "the_educated_slut"

a clarification of terms

for anyone who feels like instant messaging me, a definition:

i am a whore. i mean this quite literally. i am not a "corporate whore" or "retail whore" or one of those "we're all selling ourselves for the man so really aren't we all whores deep down inside?" whores. no, i am a good old fashioned whore, otherwise known as a prostitute.

i have sex for money. granted, legally, my clients (aka johns or tricks) are paying for my time, my expertise, my consulting fees. but when it comes down to it, it's all about the the cash and my pussy.

so why don't i call myself a prostitute or an escort to rid folks of confusion? because i like the word whore. it sounds good to say. it feels good to type. and it fits me better. prostitution refers to the act, but whore refers to an identity. plus, escorts work for agencies (kinda like how alcoholics go to meetings).

so the next time someone im's me and acts all shocked and appalled when they realize that i'm not using "whore" euphemistically, they have been sufficiently warned.

the date

was delightful.

i didn't freak out or run away or turn into a sex obsessed nerd (well, no more than usual). i actually had a lovely time. and judging by our next day emails, as well as the discreet mention in her blog, so did she.

first there was a little confusion about where we would meet up. we established sushi near the theatre, but i was thinking third ave and she was thinking first. plus i got held up at work. so i ended up in a cab headed downtown, pressing redial, trying to figure out where exactly we were meeting ten minutes after i was supposed to be there. a great start.

as i mentioned in my post yesterday, i had gotten dressed up. i was wearing my vintage cindy brady bright orange dress with pointy collar, orange fishnets, and my trusty payless pumps with white tubing that i wear to all my conferences. hair was still up with my stick from work and i was wearing a scarf around it.

but she looked beautiful. she had these black lacey fishnets and burgundy and green famous designer shoes with chunk curved heels (i know i should know the guy's name but i'm not a sex and the city type of girl so fashion goes over my head). her skirt was lime green and layered and wispy and her black shirt had silver seems around the edges of the low neckline revealing hints of her pink bra (that i couldn't help glimpsing at from time to time throughout the evening). she also had this little beaded necklace, very unassuming, that sparkled like crazy in the candlelight at the sushi place (i kept getting distracted by it and then looking down to her tits, couldn't help myself). femme on femme, yeah baby.

we got an upstairs table by the window in the sushi joint on third. after some nervous small talk, bathroom escapes, knocking of menus from the table, and giggling, we both began to relax. we walked over to ps 122 to see julie atlas muz's "i am the moon and you are the man in me". my date is mad networked so had gotten us comps (i was a "plus one", how cool is that?!?) naked performance art, hurrah! but truly, it was fantastic and breathtaking and wonderful and just a little arousing at times but sobering at others. i heartily recommend.

afterwords we talked about getting dessert, but then she lead me to the train. i was a little confused and dissappointed, but oh well. my sack was bigger than her purses, but she was carrying three (the plural was not a typo back there). so in terms of baggage, we are well matched. i was holding her jacket and bottle of diet coke for her when we reached her stop and she got off. i asked if she wanted her coke and had to follow her off so she didn't loose her things to the closing train doors. i wasn't sure if this was intentional or planned or if i was forcing myself back to her place. so i was treading lightly.

we went back to her place for cupcakes where her toilet promptly overflowed. so we went to a local bar, the painted lady, super cool, with working plumbing for a nightcap (we didn't call it a nightcap, but in retrospect i wish we had, very doris day/ rock hudson). among the naked ladies she had another diet coke and i nursed a beer. we talked about our mutual love of blankets (i revealed my infant heat-rash caused by being a blanket burrito baby born into the texas june), coming out to our families regarding our sex jobs (her grandfather googled her), and our mutual identity of little old ladies posing as sexpots.

gradually the conversation was staggered by making out. we let my hair down to act as a shade. when we took off our glasses the first time (i love that moment) she had to pause and process the fact that i suddenly looked fifteen. but she got over it. at one point i shifted to put my arm around her and knocked over both our empty glasses (great for discretion). bonus: we are both giggling dorks.

as it drifted past midnight she started to yawn. she was embarrassed and apologetic expressing her exhaustion. i didn't mind as we had already made a second date for bingo. we walked back to the subway/her apartment and lingered for a moment. it was sweet and delightful and lovely.

so i had a good first date. and we're planning a second. and even though i didn't sleep with her on the first date (against my moral code of fuck them immediately or don't fuck them at all), there is definitely hot sex potential. can you believe it?

Saturday, November 20, 2004

working girl

is NOT a movie about whoring.
who knew? and why didn't they tell me?
at least joan cussack is still hot, even with big hair.

Friday, November 19, 2004

i have a date!

with a pretty pretty girl.
i'm wearing a pretty dress and pretty orange fishnets.
and i shaved my legs and everything (although the bush remains intact as it is a professional investment, but she's knows about the whoring so i hope she'll understand).
and i'm okay with it being a "date". not freaking out. actually excited. whoa!

more detailed update later (probably tomorrow). love.

Monday, November 15, 2004

im adventures

so, now that i have both yahoo (the_educated_slut) and aol (educated jane) im accounts, i'm getting some interesting random "hello"s. i have enjoyed speaking to several fellow bloggers and blog readers. however, this evening i received an im from a stranger who had picked my email from a biswingers group i attended many moons ago.

after my initial inquiry as to who he was and what was his story "john, 40, single" (very articulate this one), he ricocheted the questions. not wanting to bother with bullshit but at the same time recognizing a potential client, i said i was 22, a student, a sex educator, and a whore. which lead to this clever banter:
brillig3: r u practicing what u teach?
the_educated_slut: i get paid for both
brillig3: hmmm
brillig3: paid for sex?
the_educated_slut: yes sir, i believe that's the definition of a whore
brillig3: so a slut is the same as a whore?
the_educated_slut: no
the_educated_slut: a slut is someone proud of their sexual agency
the_educated_slut: a whore is someone who utilizes their sexuality in a system of mutual exchange
the_educated_slut: for example sex for money or sex for a job
brillig3: i thought someone who got paid for sex is a prostitute
the_educated_slut: a prostitute is one type of a whore
brillig3: oic
brillig3: so u do sex for a job?
the_educated_slut: one of several
brillig3: or sex for money
brillig3: ?
the_educated_slut: by "sex for a job" i meant someone who has sex with someone in exchange for employment, ex. casting couch
the_educated_slut: i do not engage in this type of whoring
the_educated_slut: i do have sex for money and also lead personal educational workshops with a great deal of intimacy
the_educated_slut: and i do some fetish work
brillig3: so its mostly for couples?
the_educated_slut: but i have legit jobs too
the_educated_slut: no, primarily for men
the_educated_slut: although often the goal is to benefit their female (or male) partners
brillig3: ok
the_educated_slut: anyways, got to go

so, the boy is intrigued, has added me to his list. i think as long as i can restrict him to tastes but no satisfying bites i may be able to wrangle some cash money out of the situation. could be an interesting new venue. especially since aff certainly seems a bust.

not sleeping

so it is five am.
i am exhausted, but not asleep.
i do not know why.

i was able to sleep late today, but that is not entirely unheard of for a sunday, although it has been a few weeks. when i get the chance i sleep until my eyes gradually open on their own (today it was around 4). i then accomplish things around the house and neighborhood, do some homework, make lists for the week, and go back to sleep around midnight.

i went through the routine today. curled in bed just after midnight. had amadeus on softly and saturated myself in phoebe glockner's diary of a teenage girl (i love her love her love her). and then, amadeus is over, it's almost four, and i'm halfway through the book.

so i take a bath, hair up so i don't get too cold, candle balanced on my left tit to read by. soak until the water loses warmth and my toes look like peanut shells.

now i'm back in bed. i have begun my fall back regimen of royal tenenbaums and book (no offense to royal tenenbaums, i love the film, in fact, because i have watched it so often i find it very soothing, and not just because angelica houston is the perfect woman and danny glover has a satin voice).

if i were really committed i would switch from phoebe to school texts (the harlem reader this week). sure to fall deep asleep. but i have to be at work around nine anyway, which means getting on the subway at eight, and waking up around seven. what's the point?

aside from the fact that i have class until ten tonight, and then should really do my laundry. but everyday this week is booked from 8am to 11pm roundtrip. i'm looking forward to relaxing in the mountains in north carolina over thanksgiving. the last time i was there, it really helped me get back into the rhythm (my ceramics and fire spinning showed dramatic improvement upon my return). until then, i turn back to phoebe and the tenenbaums.

ah, memories

this is why i no longer do casual encounters aka nsa sex for free.

i was cleaning out an email account (i have seven or eight now that i still check/use semi-regularly) and i came across this winner of a invitation. before i give you the endearing text, let me provide a little background.

i met this charming fellow via cl casual encounters. looking for free toys. he bought me a pink rotating jelly penis with a baby vibrating dick (most likely intended for anal penetration, but without a flare, so even with the cord, no dice for my ass). the toy itself wasn't horrible, and even though i've found rotating pussy toys to be more of a conceptual turn-on than physically functional, it worked great in my ass.

so, we started meeting semi-regularly (or at least trying to). we agreed to meet up for a rush hour subway jerk-off session. i waited at the end of the c-train for 45 minutes, no show. a day later came a deeply apologetic email. okay, maybe i'll give him a second chance.

next date involved a walk through central park and fucking on a rock in the spring time budding trees, not enough leaves to truly block the view but provided a little shading. he asked if he could fuck me in the ass and i had to say no, because a woman with a stroller and a toddler was 15 feet away (and that's just wrong).

we had a quickie in his apartment one time (he had an interesting roommate situation) and the condom came off. this lead to my emergency contraception nightmare (note: ec is a wonderful godsend. just be sure to take plan b. preven, which will not be available much longer and may already be off the market, is combined hormone and made me puke for 18 hours, during which i was groped on the subway while throwing up (there's an entry about it somewhere in the archives, don't feel like finding it now). bitch didn't even offer to split the cost.

we set up another park day on an evening that my parents are coming in town. just a quickie/stroll through central park as i walk over to their hotel. and he doesn't show, again.

the final straw. we set up a date for him to come over. i was going to top him. had this great scene lined up. cleaned the apartment. made sure roommate would be out. boiled my toys. cut a new blindfold and bought some new rope for binding purposes. and he doesn't show up. doesn't answer his phone. nothing. nada. we had been setting this up for a week.

so the man was cut. obviously. however, over the next year, i would get occasional desperate emails, none of which received a response. here is my favorite that i just came across:
"flake comes a'calling"
"I know that you haven't responded to my last few emails, and rightfully so. I just thought I'd try again, as I'm at work and going crazy. I'm desperate for a good, hard quick fuck, and I know that although you may not think of saying yes right away, I may be able to pique your curiosity with the thought of an ass fuck. I've been a dick, and i know that. But do you really want to turn down a good fuck in the ass over personality conflict? i don't think so. I don't even know if you get these emails, but I had to try again tonight. I need it so badly - some pussy eating and ass fucking. It's 6:05p, and I have tons to do tonight. With that, I thought perhaps you may be interested in a cock break. There's a hotel on 14th and 10th, or didn't you say there's one on 30th and 10th or something? Say yes, please?"

endearing, yes?
god, to think i fucked him for free.

Sunday, November 14, 2004


so an old regular just called and booked a date for next saturday. nice to have that off my mind.
he also inquired about phone dates. cool with me, but i don't know what to charge. i would rather a flat rate than a minute-by-minute thing. any suggestions? our hourly dates run $250. he's an oral submissive into shower play. thanks for the input.

now, all i have to worry about is getting my rag in time. it's already two weeks late. not prego or anything, just erratic. but could be bothersome when booking an oral date.

this one's a quickie.

Friday, November 12, 2004

identity maintenance

i have learned not to force myself to fuck in defense of my identity. as a slut, i celebrate my sexual autonomy, which includes my right not to have sex.

however, my whore identity is threatened by the current drought of tricks. it's not (just) the money (i'm surviving, although the spare change would be nice). my sex worker identity is still infantile (only a year and a half) compared to my slut identity, which is almost eleven. my whore identity requires greater support.

i know conceptually that my whore identity is not inherent upon the whoring itself but rather my experience and ability to utilize sex as a tool of education and profit. however, it still needs the foundation of regular tricks.

i feel like a writer with writers block or an artist in an empty studio. frustrated and impotent.

a whore without a trick

i need to turn a trick goddammit!

why is whoring so hard?

you grow up with the cautionary tale of the prostitute. it is an inevitable fate for those who do not behave like a lady, cross their legs, wear a bra, or eat their vegetables. prostitution is something you must actively work to avoid. it is made to sound like a girl is walking around, distracted, looking at the clouds, & whoops! she falls into the canyon of prostitution.

but it is not a canyon so much as the sea floor. you have to work to maintain your grip on the bottom. otherwise the saltwater floats you back up to the surface.

*disclaimer, this rant is not representative of all, or even most, sex workers. please do not apply as a generalization as it is merely a reflection of my very personal experiences, as well as those of select close friends and acquaintances.

bisexual sluts

today i taught a sexual diversity workshop at a college out in coney island. i had spoken for the group last spring and they liked me enough to bring me back for an encore.

today was a great class with wonderful discussion. we debated the expectations/consequences of being out or closeted in an overtly homophobic environment in terms of visibility and personal safety. we also explored tactics for campus advocacy.

however, one of the highlights of the discussion for me was started by a question during the opening go-arounds (questions were anonymous via a "snowball fight"). "why are bisexual women assumed to be promiscuous?" another chica speaks out, "and why do lesbians hate us?" to diffuse the tension i cracked about how lesbians hate 'em but straight men love 'em so it balances out, right? we talked about some of the assumptions and stereotypes surrounding many sexual identities, including straight men (although not everyone bought my assertion that straight men get shit too, sometimes because they're straight men).

but the distinction between sexual orientation and sexual behavior was cemented during the human sexuality model exercise (crowd is broken in to five groups, each group is assigned a term to define, give examples, and teach to the class, terms include: biological sex, gender identity, sexual orientation, sexual behavior, and sexual identity). smart crowd. good questions. great discussion.

anyway, i just got a voicemail from a hot butch lesbian from the class. she thanked me because my words changed her perspective on bisexual women. maybe now she'll consider dating me.

the moral of the story: i'm not a slut because i'm bisexual. and i'm not bisexual because i'm a slut. i'm a slut because i like to fuck. and i'm bisexual because i like to fuck people regardless (or occasionally because of, see last night's post) their gender identity. bi slut pride, baby.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

new comp perks

so, i no longer have to deal with firewalls, which means two very exciting things:

1) AIM. "educated jane" feel free to say hello.

2) porn. something i've been missing out on for far too long. please email me any suggested sites. free (as i'm not in the position to invest), kinky, creative, and personality are big plusses. check out dacia's pirate hat spread on or the collection on for ideas on my general tastes. fake boobs and unlubed butt play are automatic disqualifications.

professional threesome potential

although adult friend finder has been a bust over all, i have had one interesting proposal. one gentleman would like to get together with myself and a transwoman (of course, he refers to her as a she-male or tranny). now, this combines several of my favorite fantasies.

first, gender fucking. i have so much respect for transgender people, not only for the shit they survive but for the degree of introspection required to challenge and assert one's identity. but aside from the admiration, i also think they're fucking hot! i heart trannyboys and trannygrrls, intersex, transexuals, fluid and alternative gender fuckers, crossdressers, drag kings and queens, transgender persons of bi-gender, poly-gender, multi-gender, and non-gender identity. transfolk with alternative expressions of clothing, hair, attitude, body, and mind. pre-op, post-op, no-op, i admire them and want to bang 'em.

second, two cocks and one little ole me. i have had my share of group sex. i have been preoccupied with multiple cocks on many an occasion. however, i have ever had the privilege of a cock in my cunt and a cock in my ass. it's on my to-do list. maybe i'll ask santa. i have played with toys and partners and combinations to approximate the experience, but there's something about the head trip of it that makes me want to do "the real thing" (i hate this term when applied to any sexual act because it applies some sex is not "real" or "valid" but that's another rant).

top it off with getting paid generously for the experience, and you have one hot and dripping jane. my vibe is still warm from my ponderings.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

what's a whore to do?

work sucks.
not just sex work, all work.
profound, i know.

today, my boss made me cry. he wasn't intentionally being an asshole, but there's this huge rift between him and the manager of another department and i'm stuck straddling the divide. he's pulling on me so hard that whenever he snaps and just let's go, i topple backwards. today i tried to talk with him about it and he had a snap. and i cried.

i cried professionally, out of view, in the bathroom with my panty hose around my ankles, holding my breath whenever someone came in to pee. and i washed my face with cold water so the red faded before walking back to my cubicle where i reapplied my eyeliner and some powder to fade the flaming blush. i then took a xanax and did some filing work until i could think straight again.

later, after i was back under control, i went to speak with a counselor in hr. informally. confidentially. she gave wonderful advice and helped renew my faith that i can handle this. i am coming into the office early tomorrow to have a conversation about the whole raging power dynamic with his supervisor (who i consider a rolemodel and all around cool lady and who gets a kick out of whatever t-shirt, button, fishnet, or boot i happen to be wearing). it will get better. really it will. even though it has been going on for six months and i've kept on saying, it will get better, and it hasn't.

i think about quitting and doing whoring full time until i get another job. but that wouldn't work for several reasons. first, one of the reasons i adore whoring is because it is a choice. i do not need to turn a trick tonight, this week, this month if i don't want to. whoring is strictly supplemental income, not my primary source of fiscal support. additionally, business has been super slow and super frustrating (see november 2nd for an example). i think i'd go crazy before i made rent. finally, full-time whoring requires an investment (financial, emotional, and physical) i am not prepared to make at this time. so no full time whoring for now.

on the bright side the collective is beginning to slowly take shape. check out the beginning FAQ sheet and mission statement at if you would like to make a donation or join the group, please email me at

Sunday, November 07, 2004

a (voluntary) return to texas (?!?)

One night at the last conference I attended, I was drinking (as is requisite for these events) with a professor, a respected academic, and a third man I did not know. Somewhere near the fourth or fifth round, mystery man mentions public health. I zone in, "are you in public health?" It often seems that all of this sexuality research group is made of psychologists and psychiatrists, a fellow public health enthusiast is hard to come by. Mystery man politely concedes, that yes, he teaches in a public health program.

Before I could question further, respected academic interrupts, "Dear, do you mean to tell me you do not realize who you are sitting next to?!? This is M___ R__, the number one force in sexual public health in the country, if not the world. He heads the country’s top public health grad program, and is receiving the Kinsey award in the morning."

"He’s not wearing his name tag," I smoothly joked in my defense.

That night, I was able to discuss the grad program in question in significant detail with MR. He encouraged me to apply. The program sounded ideal, except for the location. The program was housed at (duh, duh, duh!!!) — University of Texas, Houston.

Now, I spent 15 of 18 years in the greater Houston area, and I hated every moment of it. When looking at colleges for undergraduate, one of my primary standards was "anywhere but texas or michigan". Now, after five years in new york, I found myself considering volunatrily returning to the dreaded land.

I laughed at the irony and figured the program would probably be found flawed after a little research. Only it wasn’t. I researched. I visited. I talked with professors. I talked with other sexuality professionals. I talked with folks who had gone through the program. I even visited the campus when I was in Houston for my friend’s wedding. It really seems ideal.

Then, yesterday during the awards luncheon, I discreetly left the banquet hall for the bathroom. I was surprised to find MR also in the hall. I complimented him on his wonderful jacket. He returned the compliment on my loud vintage cindy brady dress. Walking to the bathroom, I reintroduced myself. I wasn’t halfway through my name before he interrupted with "Dear, I remember you quite well." Cool...

I informed him I was currently working on my application for his program. He told me to email him when I submitted it, promising to personally usher it through the admissions process. And then, he volunteered to be my mentor. I almost jumped up and down with giggles. Instead, I thanked him enthusiastically, as we entered our respective powder rooms.

So, it looks as if, come next, I may very well return to that dreaded land of mosquitos, humidity, and killer traffic, of my own volition. I never would have believed it, but sometimes life surprises you.

pizza dough (dough = $, get it? har har...)

Sex at a sexuality conference. Doesn’t happen as often as most assume. In fact, of the six sexuality conferences I had attended prior to this week, I had only gotten laid once. Fortunately, my average is approving.

We were hanging around the hotel bar, about ten of us, two undergrads (my roommate and I), a handful of grad students and post-docs, a couple of tenure trackers, and two established researchers, all enjoying a competitive game of "skanky ho". "Skanky ho" is similar to the "I’ve never" drinking game, only drinking for every past act is not necessary (thank goodness, as most of us were already plastered and the drinks were overpriced). Every puts a hand in the circle. You go around the circle, each person stating an act they have never done [ex. "I have never had sex with more than four people at the same time" (I lost a finger), "I have never had sex with someone who was married to someone else" (another one down), "I have never had sex on an airplane (my finger starts to waver) with a partner (saved...)"].

After a few rounds, it is established that my fellow undergraduate and I are by far the reigning skanky ho’s. Many jokes are made about those damn 22-year-olds thinking they’ve invented sex or something. The attractive older gentleman next to me, smiles bashfully and remaraks that he never realized he was such a prude. My cranks start turning. Unfortunately, the interior bar is closing, so we relocate to the hot tub.

One room brings out a bottle of vodka and half a juice box of cranberry juice. We’re drinking pale pink cocktails in the 100+ water. We recruit some new players from the real estate convention also at the hotel and the games continue. Attractive older gentleman subtlely swims over next to me. As everyone puts their hands out in the center for the next round, he presses against my ass. I return the pressure and give him a coy glance.

Soon it is well after one am and between the heat, the vodka, and the many earlier drinks, I’m beginning to worry about making the 8am plenary. I suggest we order a pizza. Get a few takers and saunter over to the exterior bar (at this point closing down). The bar tender gets me a yellow pages and offers his cell phone, as well as guidance for my drunken ordering. So kind.

The pizza ordered, I realize that I have no cash in my swimsuit or towel or flip flops (all I had with me out at the pool. I collect some money from fellow order-ees and then begin to walk back towards my room. Attractive older gentleman, who had abandoned the hot tub for a poolside chair asks where I’m going. I say to my room for pizza money. He offers to lend me a twenty as his room is cheaper and I can pay him back in the morning. Smirking, I accept his generous offer.

Back in his room, he locates his cash and hands me the twenty. I tuck it above my right tit as I am pocketless. There is an awkward pause. I step towards him. He puts his arm around my waist, his hand grazing my ass. I return the gesture with a frontal grope of his rapidly hardening cock. We begin making out.

I’m having a little difficulty remaining standing for our increasingly athletic ravishings (either he or the booze was sweeping me off my feet). I push him over to the bed and lay him down. I straddle him in my still-damp swim suit. I can see his erect nipples through his shirt and feel his generous cock in my groin. I remove his clothes so that I can have easier access.

The man has a beautiful cock. I giggle as I stroke it. "So, as sex researchers, can I assume you have a condom available." He says he does but he’s not ready to "go that far yet". I pout that, as an educator, I am too aware of the risks, and he has such a pretty cock that I would love to suck it, with a condom. "They’re over there" he eagerly volunteers.

As I suck his cock he fingers my soaking twat. I involuntarily buck. I know what I want at this point. Holding both his arms above his head with one hand, I shift my swim suit to provide access, and settle comfortably onto his cock. As I begin rocking I pleasantly discover that his gentle curve perfectly hits my g-spot. I hold him down as I ride his cock, fucking him so that his body shifts with my every thrust. If we had been further up on the bed, he would have quite a bump from the head board. Occasionally I offer my left tit (my right still being occupied with the pizza money) to his eager lips. He groans that I’m going to make him come. I laugh as I remind him that the pizza will be delivered soon so that’s probably for the best.

The man has one of the most convulsive orgasms I have ever seen from a boy. I have to balance my desire to continue bucking him and maternally comforting him as he loses control. He finally sighs and sags. After a brief pause, he makes sure to hold the base of the condom as I lift myself from his cock.

I adjust my swimsuit and kiss him gently, as I skip off to receive the pizza. As I’m leaving, he remarks that he now has one more finger to lose, having paid for sex. I laugh as I let him know that $20 is by far the cheapest I have ever gone.

Back at the hot tub, my gaggle of gay boy friends discreetly questioned my extended absence. I smile coyly. Fellow undergrad corners me and demands to know who. At this point I realize I have no idea as to attractive older gentleman’s name as he had not been wearing his name tag. We find this delightfully humorous.

The pizza arrives. As three of us are devouring it (several other pieces having walked away), attractive older gentleman comes back by, now dressed. He smiles discreetly and makes some polite conversation with the group. Our third, being drunk, naive, and cheerful, quickly introduces himself. Attractive older gentleman shakes hands, "I’m Bob." I exchange glances with fellow undergrad. He mouths "Bob?" to me. I shrug. We both burst out laughing.

Ah, yes. Good times. Smirk.

Saturday, November 06, 2004

luck is like orgasms

My boss refuses to participate in the conference raffle. He admits that his only superstition regards gambling and other games of chance. He believes that each person is allotted a finite amount of luck.

In support of this theory his reveals the only time he participated in, involved a four year old neighbor, a failing theatre, and a frozen turkey. The young girl could not understand why he could give her money, but could not buy any tickets. He finally gave in. On the same day that his theatre was evicted, he won a rather large frozen turkey.

"I think, luck is like orgasms," I countered. You have a limitless supply, but you often hesitate to surrender, in hopes of a bigger one showing up. And when you think you have had the best of your life and it’s all downhill from here, a better one eventually makes its way around. Additionally, although you can take certain actions to increase your probability, inevitably, a portion remains left up to chance.

Friday, November 05, 2004

"legitimate" sex work

So I’m at the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality (SSSS) conference in Orlando, networking with sex professionals in the research and science fields as opposed to sex work. Some interesting dynamics have presented themselves. Some of the stigmas you would assume to be null in a theoretically open-minded and educated atmosphere such as this, unfortunately continue to assert themselves.

The most apparent is the hierarchy of legitimate versus illicit sex work (defined as any job concerned with sexuality). There was a workshop for students and young professionals featuring several senior SSSS members. All three were primarily therapists, although two had academic teaching experiences, and one had roots in social work as opposed to psych. I find this reflects much of the organization, which is 80% psych people, and then 20% for the rest of us.

When asked how they deal with the stereotypes associated with the sex professions, their response was bonding at SSSS and similar conferences, but living somewhat closeted in other environments ("Oh, I’m a therapist"). Now, I understand wanting to avoid the assumptions, not to mention endless questions; however, visibility is a crucial step to relieving stigma. We must challenge assumptions by providing positive and confident examples.

Furthermore, we must challenge the stigmas and heirachies within our communities. I asked how one would go about framing "alternative" sex-related work when applying for positions that may or may not be directly sexual in nature. The example I provided was I felt fairly innocuous, writing a sexual health column for a porn site. However, the immediate response of the panel was, "Why would you want to tell someone you wrote for a porn magazine?!?" I found myself attacked and defending this theoretical scenario, much tamer than many of my life experiences.

Additionally, the theme of the conference was politics and sex research, very timely. There was talk of the spring’s NIH "sex list". I was shocked to hear many sex researchers challenging the validity of some of the work of other researchers on the list and present at the conference. I can understand the competitive nature of grants, especially government grants, but isn’t it healthier to assert the strengths of your own research as opposed to attacking others’? I’m just so sick of this shit, especially since the election.


Wednesday, November 03, 2004

election night strategy

southern comfort
but i'm a cheerleader

works well to keep me pseudo-sane the night before
not so conducive to showing up for work or school the day after

so depressed
i haven't been able to post much of anything on my pretty new computer
i have something like six drafts going at this point, though
maybe i'll polish everything on my trip to orlando (tomorrow through sunday)

love and the sentiment "everything will all be okay" (regardless of whether or not i believe it quite yet")

Tuesday, November 02, 2004



So today I stayed home to vote and set up the new computer. $1600. Since I didn’t have to be in the office, or go to school, I figured it was an ideal time to arrange for a trick or two.

I posted this ad:

no more bush (for me) - w4m 22 (you must host)

in honor of election day, i'm giving the girl a trim. she's been growing out long and free since june, but summer days are over. the most generous voter chooses her new do and provides his styling expertise. curvy, red-headed college student. discretion is a must. place your vote with your donation to the campaign. this afternoon/evening only. thank you

The response was very positive. Although there were your typical cut and paste craigslist cruisers, there were several genuine inquiries. The proposed donations ranged from $50 to $700. So, I started at the top and began negotiating.

Mr. $700 seemed like a good thing, and not just bc of the cash. But when it came down to scheduling, he wanted me to meet him at the hilton in midtown in ten minutes (um, yeah, I was home in queens). When I proposed we meet at 3:30, he said he thought it would be too late to take advantage of their "secret" short-stay. Furthermore, he refused to give me his number or offer to call mine. He wanted me to sit in the hotel bar, in a skirt with no panties, so he could get a peek before taking me up to his room. Potentially a good time. But he wouldn’t talk to me before I showed up to some random bar without panties and sat around flashing god knows who until he may or may not approach me, so I had to decline.

We then had a Bush enthusiast who offered $200 to see her full and an additional $200 to help with the grooming. Great. Except it turned out he couldn’t host and wasn’t available tonight. As I’m working and have class tomorrow, and leave for the conference early Thursday, that just wouldn’t work.

I negotiated with a $300 bid, as well as two $250s. One couldn’t host. One couldn’t provide a number because he was staying in a friend’s apartment while he was visiting town from Boston. One booked the date, but then cancelled when he was shocked that he’d have to stay at work for a load-in (um, if you’re a production assistanct, you know when your show is loading in, goddam flaker).

On the plus side, I didn’t actually show up for any dates. On the pissed side, I had $1900 in dates cancel on me today (the cost of my computer and then some). Fucking craigslist.

Monday, November 01, 2004

computer update

will be delivered today according to the tracking. it's coming! it's coming!

expect extensive updates soon as i have been drafting in the subways but very limited comp time.