Wednesday, July 6, 2005

name this song: "say something once, why say it again?"

I got an email from this guy twelve minutes ago that said, "you couldnt possibly be this stupid." This guy could not possibly be any more scary. I had talked to him online earlier today around five and made plans to see him in about an hour to receive a blowjob, this after he offered me a pretty shocking $300, which would have eliminated all my worries about paying my rent this week. Because I realized that tomorrow, I am not going to do sex work because Paul has an opening tomorrow afternoon that I have to go, and Friday I am seeing someone and that will pay 150, so really tonight was my only real chance to try to make the rest of rent by Friday.

This guy is the reason I applied to about six jobs today, because this is what I fear and this what worries me, these psychotic guys who want to possess you and are just crazy. My regulars I can deal with and even enjoy, but meeting new clients is always so scary because they could very well be the psychotic person who everyone is scared you are going to encounter. So anyway, the guy calls me at seven or so and tells me he has to go to Jersey City but then will be back in the West Village and will give me a call. I had already had my doubts about whether I actually would meet up with him because you do have to go with your gut, and for some reason, something in his voice, a mildly aggressive tone, the way the end of each word was hit, that the words didn't meld one to the next, but each stark, I was having doubts. And when he finally called again at 9:30, I decided that it was too late to go be meeting up with this stranger, and just didn't answer his calls. Four calls. One after the next. Finally he left a message saying that he would pay me $500. The fact that he was so worried about meeting up with me and called back and back in a span of two minutes while I could have conceivably just been in the bathroom had me very freaked out, as tempting as five hundred dollars is and was.

But it gets even better, or scarier depending on if you are the reader or the writer of this, he leaves a message maybe two minutes later, a message so long saying that he would take me wherever I wanted, Rome, whatever, that he could get me a job, introduce me to his lawyer friends, that I wouldn't have to hustle, blah blah blah - this message was so creepy and I hate that possessive, paternalistic attitude that some guys take to sex workers, that you need help or want it. I don't want to go hang out with you and your lawyer friends. I want to cum and then leave, that's it. I texted him back telling him he took a long time, that I was tired and going to bed. This started a flurry of text messages from him and a couple more voice messages that made me very glad with my decision to stick with my gut and not meet up with him. He proved himself to be quite psycho, and keep in mind that I had told him I was going to bed and did not respond to any of these, and yet they kept coming:

9:40 I had to take care of some family business. I hope you arent flaking out on me

9:41 I had to take care of some family business. I hope you arent flaking out on me

9:55 Thats why i asked you before what was a good time i canceled 2 meetings to meet you beautiful If i give you more will you come out

9:57 Do you have to get up for work or can you come let skiing with me

10:09 How about$600.00

10:21 Ok so should i assume you dont want to hang out? Assume you arent allowed out after 9pm? Assume you are a rude self absorbed sCum bag? I missed meetings wit

10:23 Very powerful people to meet you and say you i think you can have the decency to respond


Yeah, I will continue to be broke and stress about rent before I go see some rich, cokehead lawyer with an outrageous sense of entitlement where even though he postponed our meetup by hours, for some reason, I should still go see him out of a sense of duty. I like the meek, old people that are my regulars. But man, six hundred dollars sounded so nice and I cannot lie that I might have wavered just a little bit at that point. I need a real job so I don't have to deal with people in this way anymore. I can deal with being treated as cog for mininum wage, that indignity I can handle - but when people think that because you do sex work, that they can name any price and you will consent, that you are obviously for sale, I hate it. Really, I do.

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