The amazing feeling I got when I blocked that man mid conversation and never contacted him again is called pride I think. Or agency. I still feel it to this day when I think about it. I finally integrated that i literally didn’t have to withstand one more second of whatever that was. That there are better things to do and to be. That I’m actually free, and that my time and my attention are real, tangible and valuable, unlike whatever I wanted to get out of meeting and texting him.
At first glance, when you see two organisms attached to each other, you can’t tell if they’re in a beautiful symbiosis or if one of the two is a parasite exploiting its host. The knowledge of who you’re dealing with is important for that reason. The knowledge, not necessarily of your « worth » because what does that even mean, but of what you feed someone, and how much it would cost him to get it somewhere else. Let’s get real economical and transactional, let’s get real casual, since the men I met worship that concept, of course, because it’s one they get to define and explain in a way that’s ambiguous enough for everyone to think it is fair, and at the same time, malleable enough for it to mean they can get intimacy without asking for it and without having to create adequate conditions for it to be shared.
Transactional/casual means that, for example, I should’ve asked to get paid, for the blowjob I gave the guy, since he didn’t do anything for me. Same for cumming on my stomach. Penetration attempt without protection ? Why should I make it free ? Who are we to each other ? We’re not friends, we’re not lovers; why should it be free ? Why should I absorb all the risk involved in this interaction, with no compensation on his end ? Why? He offered to pay for my uber to his hotel and when I told him I live quite far from him and showed him how much it would cost, he withdrew the offer. And I still went. And he didn’t offer to pay for the Plan B either. No wonder why they say women aren’t good in positions of leadership or business or are too emotional to succeed at them or whatever. I had just proved it him.
It seemed so obvious to me a few days after the fact, after the worst of the shock, the sadness, the remorse were behind me. What I did, going to his hotel, early in the morning, to have him do that to me, was what a sex worker would do, for a fee. I even thought hey… I was pretty good at dissociating and feeling empty during it, it could therefore be something I might consider doing for actual money. The dangers associated with sex work aside, it appeared very clearly to me, that it’s more dignified to participate in a truly transactional exchange than to do what I had done. By a thousand miles.
I don’t encourage anyone to consider sex work, and I walked back my considerations as to undertake it myself (one of the stupidest things I’ve ever produced in terms of ideas), but I did, through this experience, get to truly get a sense of how nonsensical the idea that somehow, had he given me money after what happened, I would’ve felt worse than I did without. I would’ve felt terrible regardless, but at least, I wouldn’t have also felt stupid.
Now let’s indulge in harder thoughts and questions; how much ? If I were to put a price, on it, since I seem to be ok with this idea, let me poke it and test myself a bit more. How much. I actually went and googled it. How much does a prostitute charge on average, in other words what’s the price of sex. It obviously depends. Mainly on where you are in the world. Your age, your ethnicity, etc. On reddit they say 200-300 for half an hour with an escort. But on this website on black markets it says many different things. 2 dollars in some places/contexts. In actuality, wondering whether or not money would’ve felt better, is already miles away in terms of dignity and rights from what hundreds upon hundreds of women’s realities are like. It shouldn’t be a privilege, but it is in the present times.
Now if I go further in trying to assign exchange-value to sex with me, or sexual acts I would provide, I realise that what I provided in terms of services has a higher use-value than transactional sex alone since the very fact of being free provides the dickhead consumer with even more satisfaction in consuming said service (it’s the sexual pleasure of a transactional sexual act + the ego boost of sex given with 0 effort on his part). But then obviously it makes it hard to give this boost while simultaneously getting compensated in some form. Impossible. Unless you disintegrate as much as possible the qualities that make the compensation seem to the client like valuable resources are being exchanged; maybe like going with him on his nice trips and benefitting from the resources made available to him, or connections/opportunities he could direct me towards, but even these things will feel transactional in the mind of someone who already sees you as a commodity. Forget it.
Also, a fancy trip with someone like him… it’s just like a fancy bag but with a huge scratch on it. Yay let’s objectify each other and see where it leads us. With enough amphetamines and beta blockers, I could resist all the guy’s baits to get me addicted to his attention or love bombing, no matter how love-starved I originally am. I can start building my self-esteem off of the amount of guys I ghost, or how many guys can make lose at their own game, and write about it and feel special or whatever drives those who act or think as though their use of dating apps isn’t really just digital kerb crawling.
No thank you. The few guys I’ve dealt with were enough to give me the perspective one needs to truly see how boring people like this are, all things considered. Many of those I’ve met told me about either getting easily bored of the women they meet, or about how boring many aspects of their lives are. I was too invested in trying to get them to like me to tell them my opinion about the bored guys/ boring things/women dichotomy they seem to relate so deeply to, mainly because of the ego-protective meaning they find in it.
Relatively handsome modern man you are bored because you are boring. You are boring because you’ve desired, went after and collected the same experiences and encounters, over and over; and while it was enjoyable and exciting for a while, it kept your mind shallow, your world unexplored, your interests unfound, and your soul, bored and cynical. You haven’t learned how to enjoy or be curious about experiences or people that aren’t hyperpalatable advertisments in a long time. And you’ve haven’t had to learn to be or become one yourself for others to be interested in you. This intersection is what one could call the 6ft nonchalant man equilibrium. It’s not really your fault; it’s girls like me who participate in arresting your moral and sentimental development by throwing desire and presence at the empty parts of you.
I’m not just trying to come for them, I understand the nuances of their struggle and competing desires: many of them do need and want intimacy because they’re lonely and their dads were assholes, or people at school were, or both. Intimacy from women but taken in a stealthy way, yes I kissed you on your forehead and we whispered sweet nothings to each other very early in the morning and I told you about my childhood, but it was casual like I told you from the start. Too greedy to give one person their energy and commitment. Right because they were violently denied it at many points in their lives, so now they want it all, with no consideration for those they take it from, to compensate for all the suffering hitherto endured. Just like people like me aspire to get chosen by the guy who never choses anyone to compensate for all the times they wondered “why can’t anyone chose me”. Our respective hamartias are complementary.
Only they also want bodies they can use to masturbate, because sometimes you just want to fuck and that’s fucking it. But it’s not enough, they want successions of women who can provide them with confidence about their ability to fuck, to seduce, to get more with less, because that’s what everyone values them for. Also, series of encounters to give them enough novelty to distract them from time passing, from the first girlfriend hurting them, from the life of man being short, hard and unfair.
Am I looking for the same things ? Companionship, vanity, entertainment, intimacy, for time to stop, or slow down, for life to be easier, for sex to be amazing, (yes daddy) I do. But maybe here’s where things clash; he wants to feel more powerful and I want to feel safer. His power comes with avoiding me after the fact, my safety is making sure he doesn’t. Adania Shibli, you’re right, we’re all equally far from love.
I wish I was less shallow, and got myself a shy incel who’d never hurt me, and who’d love me with all his lonely heart. We’d fix each other’s wounds. Maybe I’m not as shallow as I think and it could actually happen. Maybe he’s more shallow than I think and he’ll cheat on me with his new found confidence. Apparently many of them do that. Hence the infamous “give an ugly guy a chance …”. Right because for men you don’t have to be a model to break hearts. For girls, you have to be at least somewhat attractive to earn the privilege of getting your heart broken. Think about any woman you find really attractive. Her heart got broken, deeply, at least once. As for unattractive girls, I can attest, my first heartbreak only came with my first glow-up. Beauty’s a double edge sword for women, you’re rewarded and punished for it, either at the same time, or in alternate ways, but you’ll be subjected to both no matter what.
Love and beauty hurt. The lack thereof hurt too. Omg can we live ? CAN WE LIVE ? Fuck’s sake.
just noticed no tbc at the end of this, i'm gonna miss this series! it's such a pleasure to read what you write, hoping more interesting funny and weird stuff to read!!