For Keeps
I wasn’t for keeps.
Raised in a time when men were mythical creatures
that lived amongst us and
‘to land a man’
was an enviable accomplishment
in the life trajectory
of a woman to be.
And had to take precedence over other dreams and feelings of my own
At 14, when I got my woman’s body I saw the exchange and
the threat
that would
could
become my life as a woman.
I saw that at 14, I had power to fell
a grown man
and not just that,
but at 14, I was more powerful than women older than me.
I was more powerful than women in their late twenties
I was more powerful than the mothers I babysat for
Grown men Would change their plans just from a flirty promise from me
Grown married men would betray their vows if I gave the ok
I was a child
still played with dolls
dreamed of Prince Charming
Yet suddenly given magical powers before I knew what to do with them
When I was16, I asked my 31 year old boyfriend, why he wasn’t attracted to the women his age: the pretty, got-it-together girls that were 26, 27, 28,
he said because they were old now, cynical, jaded… that made them hard and that hardness made them unattractive. Innocence was beautiful. Loving softness was beautiful
And I vowed I’d never get hard or jaded or angry.
At 23, the Acting world said, “that I was getting up there”, “not fuckable”
The audience
The vast majority of men have to want to fuck you
In the escort world, (where I made a living off the vast majority of men who wanted to fuck me)
when a client would rather lick her pussy than mine because she was 19 and I was 26, no spring chicken, I felt that timer ticking.
Women had, an expiration date
Men were the prize.
They could have any women and they could trade in women
Trade in for younger versions
Trade us in like no matter who we are
no matter the connection and love, we are trade in-able.
Even if you have their children, tradeable
Desperation seeded itself so deep inside me I couldn't locate it to dig it out.
Escorts, all, felt it. The sister unspoken.
Get your money, get your independence,
a shield against that day when
you’ll be traded in
get your money, get your independence,
a shield against that day when
no one picks you any more.
Get your money, get your freedom so you don’t have to trade your time and choices away
Get your money get your independence so you don’t have to worry about appealing to a man, landing a man
to feel safe
Get your money so you can listen to you
Get your money so you don’t need.
So it’s not a desperate need
You can want.
You can desire.
And it wasn’t just a race backward toward youth, it was also a race to beauty.
And at least half your money went toward beauty upkeep, plastic surgery toward youth, fighting gravity
slippery slope.
Youth, the biggest prize
and as I watched as a child in a woman's body,
even while reveling in the power dropped in my unsuspecting lap,
I was fearful,
that’s where that pit of desperation grew from,
this soil of fear
because here I was, this child
with a power that was fun but
I didn’t know what to do with and
too young to participate in, and
I looked to the trajectory of my life as a woman that I wanted to see blossom
get better and deeper
more satisfying as I got older
and wiser
yet what I saw was, it gets worse, this is it.
I am now
and in the next few years, at my pinnacle. Until 30.
At most.
After that the battle begins in which I must perfect myself
for the ultimate showdown
me and the mythical beast, that creature I must land.
I am Ishmael out for the whale.
Escort,
seemed the answer to that challenge
just being a woman made me a part of.
It answered my fears by helping me make enough money to shield me from the rejections and
the possibility of never landing him.
It paid me when a man treated me as disposable.
Instead
of wasting a night, a week, a year, with a man, going home with nothing to show for it but sadness,
Instead
there was an agreement
in advance
There would be connection, romance, infatuation, laughter, intimacy, sex. And leaving.
Good bye. See you again. Maybe. Sometime. Never.
I would be compensated for my time and could just go on without
a hitch
in my stride.
And I was good. That way.
To date and have sex every night,
To flirt and laugh and fuck
multiple times,
To be powerfully desired by a man more than any woman ever,
for that one present moment.
And without consequence.
Without rejection or sadness or want or yearning afterwards.
I didn’t have to wait for the phone to ring
or wonder what he was thinking
or how I should’ve would’ve could’ve.
It gave me something I didn’t expect
It gave me sisters,
it brought me close to other women, In a similar way men form a brotherhood
Our battlefield took place over the landscape of men’s bodies,
naked
with a secret language
getting each other through this commonplace toil of pleasing men with our charms
our bodies
Clothed,
living our pretenses in real life, we pretend we aren’t all in this similar experience
with this pit of fear and desperation
It’s easier to cover or not notice
The office: girls come, go, wait
a safe place, our private club, where Real-world judgments can’t invade
Here, we can make as much money as some men, more than most women
Sex is power. One place we have the advantage.
But still, we are here in service to men.
We see each other on calls, two girl calls, sex club calls, party calls
naked
in lingerie
In intimate positions
In Twister positions: left foot on sofa cushion, right Hand on coffee table, clit in her mouth, mouth on his cock, ass in the air, Daisy chain!
Laboring together like Mash doctors
Communicating with our eyes and our moans
“mmmm, yeah,”
Pass the KY, “mmmmmm,”
squirt the oil, “oh yeah,”
toss a condom,
“naughty” giggle
you take the balls I’ll take the cock, “ooooo uh, huh”
Finger-cot me, I’m going in,
Coordinating like ER nurses
over our patient, the client, a man,
Entertain him, tease him, excite him, never let the energy slack,
Feed him wine, champagne, cocaine whatever he orders
Get him hard, keep him hard,
Don’t let him cum yet!
Make him cum now!
And somewhere deep down
in a place I wouldn’t let myself admit to,
I felt a sadness that men,
these mythical creatures,
these beings I was willing to sublimate my own needs and values and feelings for,
these creatures
I was willing to put at the top of my dream-come-true list,
These prizes that all others said was the right thing to do
my mother, other women, men, society all agreed
I was doing the right thing, so
there was this sadness I couldn’t admit to
that these Beings were in some way unkind and selfish and hurtful of me and other women
and seemed blind to the pain they inflicted and so
bloated by ego and childishness that they didn’t want to see.
How could they prize a child’s sexuality over that of anything else?
Did they know this took away my hope as a woman? That by the time I was 20 I already felt less than?
Were they aware and ok that
they prized their penises over people’s lives
Was it men or
was it the society of male?
Because men as individuals, I’ve loved and have loved me back. Men as individuals, I adore. On the whole.
Yes for men, sex can be a transaction.
But for some men, kindness was a transaction too. Too.
And maybe because it was the one part of the transaction that
I gave for free. Kindness. Because. Love. Because. People.
That was what seemed special about me. To them.
That I gave connection, intimacy, kindness.
For free.
That seemed extraordinary to them.