Posted on by Amanda Brooks

un-retirement

This isn’t really the post I’d been re-writing in my head over the past few months. And it has nothing to do with the recent scandals.

Things haven’t been going well in the relationship for a while. Some of you know that, some don’t. There really is no good way to write this, so I’m just writing and posting, no editing for weeks (which I usually do).

My retirement will come to an end soon. It’s harder to say in public than I thought. It really is. I still am not ready to articulate everything I want to publicly share for anyone else who might be going through the same thing. I have anxieties and fears I did not have the first time around. I have a plan, as always. That’s not the problem. But I can’t plan against my own concerns.

I doubt the tone of this blog will change much. I’m not going to turn this into a typical escort blog where I dissect my clients in public. That’s not me. It’s not going to happen. If I do discuss work, it will be in my usual oblique way.

This has been brewing since October. And it became clear in early February that the relationship was irreparable. It’s sad and painful. More than I had thought it would be. I’m feeling bitter and that’s a first — possibly in my entire life.

A few months ago, when discussing this with a sex worker friend, she told me that everyone who retires for a relationship eventually comes back. I don’t see this as a statement on the people involved so much as a statement of murky waters of relationships and expectations in this society.

I tried to be something I am not. And what I am is not what he wants.

She told me I would have to deal with the pain on my own, and she is right. She also told me that she (and others) would catch me when I stepped through the door. There’s a mythic-journey aspect to changing one’s life (again) and a doorway is the right metaphor. It’s now open and all I have to do is step through.

See you on the other side.

please note

This post was removed with days of posting. I’ve re-posted it as of 7/2/08 because I would rather have my blog uncensored, even if it means I misstep every now and then. Plus, I’d like to think I’m the captain of my own ship again.

Posted on by Amanda Brooks

good job

The whole Spizter mess has thrown the division between civilian women and sex workers into high relief, moreso than the DC Madam thing. (Maybe I’m more aware of it.)

Growing up, I participated in school sports. At the end of every game, the teams would line up and pass each other, hands out at waist level, meeting palm-to-palm and say “Good game” or “Good job” (imagine a really gentle high-five at waist level). Prayer started every game; this little ritual ended it. Most of the time the coaches would join the end of the line. Sitting out of the line was unthinkable – I don’t remember anyone doing it (though some girls didn’t touch everyone’s hands). It would’ve been heresy. Both boys and girls teams did this starting in Little Dribblers or T-Ball and all through high school.

I have to wonder, if I did the line today and the other players knew my history, would they still touch my hand and say “Good game”? Would they refuse? Would they say other things under their breath? Would some of them turn away because they had secrets? Would they see me as an equal player, though not equal in life?

Of all the girls’ hands that I touched, how many of them would be willing to extend it again in the spirit of sportsmanship and acknowledgement of an equal?

Posted on by Amanda Brooks

what is authority? (expertise)

No, don’t worry, I’m not going political (not any more than I ever am). I found this story via my Google Alerts and although it really had nothing to do with the actual subject I was looking for, I found it interesting. (The age of the article shows you how long I’ve been sitting on this post.)

Why?

It’s a question I’ve often had internal debates about. Who is considered an authority? And this ties into the back-and-forth over my last post.

Read more

Posted on by Amanda Brooks

sex work is the new black

I often compare the sex worker rights movement with the Civil Rights movement and gay movement. Most often, I see it closer to the Civil Rights movement.

I’e become used to conversations with people or business interactions with them — all behind the scenes. But I understand that in public they might not wish to be associated with me. It’s not a condescending remark. Not everyone is ready to stand up to prejudice or make logical arguments to refute knee-jerk morality. I understand. So if we meet in public I pretend not to know and do not burden them with social embarrassment.

Take the constant checking I have to do with publishing-related businesses. I can’t assume they’re going to want to do business with me, so before we get too far down the road I have to give background info, detailed explanations, legal disclaimers (and prove that others have worked with me before) — and this is just the introductory e-mail. In essence, I apologize for what I’m doing and for imposing on them.

My hat must be in my hand, my eyes down and I should respectfully step out of the way so they can pass. In case I make them uncomfortable, I should cross the street so they don’t have to.

Usually I get praised for checking their tolerance level before daring to engage in a business conversation with them. Before I dare to believe I’m a regular publisher like anyone else making a book about cats (or cooking or yoga or whatever has been done to death). Before I dare to act as though I have a right to choose my business partners, instead of letting them choose me and being grateful for it.

Read more

Posted on by Amanda Brooks

numbers (or notches)

I read Jenna Jameson’s book quite a while back and she claims to have had sex with less than 100 men (80-something, if I remember correctly). I look at the blogs/sites/columns of sex advisors and wonder what their numbers are (actually, I’ve wondered about people’s number all of my life — it’s my one area of prurient interest, though I never want details).

Comparing my estimated number to theirs leads me to think I should be a so-called expert. And there are sex workers whose numbers are much higher than mine. Hmm…who should really be considered experts? Or does the whole “money” thing negate anything sex workers might’ve learned?

FYI: Professionally-speaking, it’s more than 100, but less than 1000. I’m not going to be more specific than that in public. Besides, it’s an estimate. I haven’t really sat down and used a calculator.

Personally-speaking, it’s in the 40s. I think.