Guilt

Things have been progressing with John, the would-be sugar daddy, and what he wants from me is touching places that I'm not sure I want him to have access to. See, I am a terrible liar, so almost by accident, John already knows way more about the "real" me than I'm comfortable with. He knows my real name, I accidentally blabbed and told him where I work, and now, he wants me to call him Daddy. It's all beginning to feel a little too personal.

I laid in my bed last night, unable to sleep because I started freaking out about the possibility of John doing tricky things like calling my job or finding out where I live. He hasn't given me any indications that he'd try anything like that, and in fact, I know his full name and his place of employment, but I still willed myself into a paranoid frenzy. I kept on composing an exit strategy and then kicking myself (rinse, lather, repeat), because jesusfuckingchrist I need that money. I've been living paycheck to paycheck these days, living off of Ramen and leftovers the last few days before payday, and the extra cash would be more than helpful. In fact, I've been wondering whether or not I'd be able to survive financially without the supplemental income that sex work provides. I also began to stress about the mounds and mounds of credit card debt I've gotten myself into (also the result of not making enough money) and how I could probably pay off my credit cards and start in on my college loans if I stuck with John.

To elaborate on what I mentioned above, the whole Daddy thing is squicking me out. Not because I think it's gross or wrong or whatever, but because that is what I love most in my own personal sex life. It's one thing for me to suck dick or fuck some random dude, but to call him Daddy, like I long to do with most of my partners, might be too much for me to handle. And a part of me worries that I might like it. So I thought to myself yesterday, what if I tried to enjoy this? Would that be gross and terrible and disgusting? And over and over again, I came to the conclusion that yes, as a queer feminist, it would be gross and terrible and disgusting if I, even for a second, enjoyed the company of and the sex with my would-be sugar daddy.

I believe that it's impossible to grow up in this terribly misogynistic sex-negative culture without internalizing all of that heinous shit, even when we work tirelessly to counter it with activism, positive self-talk, etc. Still, I always surprise myself when waves of guilt and shame wash over me in unexpected moments.