I have been reading the blogs of former sex workers and sex worker survivors lately. It’s given me some food for thought when it comes to sex between two people.

I am trying to wrap my mind around this concept: sex is a pleasurable act between two consenting adults.

Let me tell you why this is such a mind-blowing concept.

I never had any boundaries concerning my person. That was taken away from me as a child. I still don’t think I fully understand the idea of consenting to something that I’ve never really had choice with. But, I’ve been thinking.

As a pro, I used to pride myself on being able to find something attractive about anyone. Even before I started whoring, actually. Just endless nights of anonymous sex with men who’s names I did not know and who did not know mine. I was trying to fuck my pain away, and it ended up getting me prepared for the brainwashing of “you’re giving it away anyways, might as well take money for it”.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the sex I used to have with my ex who almost killed me. Let’s call him J. He knew from the start I worked as an escort… He used to claim he rescued me from that life. Perhaps. I like to think not. Anyways, the sex was great. Most of the time, I was fully present. I connected. I even shed tears after cause being there was so overwhelming.

Thinking about those instances of connection and togetherness is not something I ever wanted to think about again. Mostly because of the way it ended, and the way I feel about myself now and towards men.

Now that I can think about it though… I want that connection again.

I no longer want to feel like I have to have sex with a guy cause he took me out. I no longer want to calculate how a guy is gonna treat me in bed cause of the way he walks, or talks, or looks at me, or the gestures he makes. I no longer want to feel like all I am is a vessel to be filled and discarded.

I want more worth for myself then my ability to please.

I don’t want my feelings to be swayed by the feelings or actions or words or looks of other men.

I never again want to call what I did “high class”. Because it wasn’t. Being an outcall escort didn’t protect me. Having a driver and the agencies I worked for know where I was didn’t help me. I may have survived with my body intact, but being less then human… faceless, nameless… really, a cumdump. Crude term, but apt. I was a body that could be rented. That’s all.

So back to consent.

I really have no idea what that means. My experience with J… I don’t know if it was gratitude that someone loved me and accepted me despite (a joke… he hated me as much as he “loved” me). But whatever it was, it gave me a glimpse of what is possible.


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