The rocky road to not being a virgin

Remember my Bambi client? Well guess what, I saw him again! And then again! He still has his animal magnetism (that of a baby deer) and not a hint at facial hair. Some men are just born lucky.

In the first entry about him, if you remember, I said I hoped he’d get a girlfriend and live happily ever after. This isn’t because I believe that I or other sex workers aren’t good enough, it’s because I think that at 18 he’d better go out and meet girls and learn to build relationships with them and save the money he’s only just started earning for something like a car or whatever boys want these days. And this is exactly what I told him in April, the second time he got in touch with me. My only excuse is that I was on medication, off sick. Because when he replied my e-mail saying that he agreed with me on all points, he was not trying to substitute or escape a meaningful relationship by seeing me, and he made sure he saved a little each month, it was quite embarrassing.

As a sex worker, I get upset when people who know nothing about my life or my work (like Rhoda Grant et al) tell me what’s best for me and explain why what I want to do is wrong. So who am I to decide what’s best for B? I don’t know the first thing about his experience of the opposite sex (well that’s a lie, the only thing I know about his experience with the opposite sex is exactly the first one because I was present) or his life, or his finances. Who am I to tell him how to spend his money? The state thinks he’s adult enough to drive, vote, drink alcohol and have sex and I’m not his parent to have an opinion here. B didn’t seem to be surprised or upset by what I said but felt I had to apologise.

Hi B,

I must apologise. My previous e-mail was disgustingly patronising and it looked like I was treating you if not as a child, then at least as a not-so-mature youngster. I thought of all the virgin clients I had (this is well over 20) and of them only 3 I saw once. The rest I saw at least twice and sometimes 3-4 times. Nothing sets you apart except your age so I think it’s high time I stopped mollycoddling you and let you make decisions based on what you want rather than on what I think is best for you. So I am sorry and I’ll be happy to see you again whenever you are ready.

So in May, when I thought I was well enough, B came to Edinburgh again. I won’t go into details of that date, but somewhere in the middle of it, when things were going really well, I said “oh, excuse me a minute, will you”, then went to the bathroom and threw up. I did feck up a few dates over the years by various stupid things (that’s right, I make sure it’s not on my blog). This, however, was in a league of its own. I was certain B wouldn’t be back, and the 2 thoughts that made it all better were:

  • I didn’t expect to see him again anyway
  • Now he knows what it’s like to pick up a woman in a bar on a Friday night

So you can imagine my surprise when a couple of months later he was back. There was one skill in particular that he wanted to polish, and one experience he wanted to report – that of meeting a girl in a bar. By the sound of it, it was the girl who picked him up, not the other way round, but I’m still very pleased for him. There’s no knowing if I’ll ever see him again but I’m sure he’ll be just fine, he’s a quick learner.

An endeering client

He wasn’t the first client of the year but I can’t wait to tell you!

I meet him at Waverley. He looks exactly the way he described himself: tall, thin and barely legal to have sex with. Let’s call him B – later you’ll see why. He doesn’t know Edinburgh that well so I offered to pick him up from the station and walk him to the hotel room I’d booked for the date.

B got in touch over a month before. First he said he was a virgin – would I see him? Why wouldn’t I? But then he admitted he was 18 and suddenly I had doubts. I’ve seen a few virgins before, as you know, but none of them was that young. The issue I have here is the reason. A virgin of 25 (or 35, or 45) contacting you is – no, not the norm – but you understand why they want your help. Someone who’s 18 and in a hurry to lose virginity makes me wonder. Is it because all his mates have mated numerous girls at school and he feels left out, or because he thinks still being a virgin at 18 is embarrassing? None of these reasons sound right to me. I’ll be the last person to persuade you to keep your virginity for that mythical “right one”, but I also disagree with getting rid of it at your earliest convenience.

So we had a lengthy email conversation. B didn’t have a reason as such, but he wanted to meet a girl and being shy as he was, he thought he’d feel much more confident with women if he knew what he’s supposed to do. This seemed good enough for me: I would never accept “want sex” as a reason but confidence issues you meet often enough in clients (and usually get great results with) to know it’s a valid reason to see a sex worker.

First of all, I check his ID: make fun of his photo and look at the ceiling trying to add 18 to 1994. Yep, he really is 18. Then we sit down on the bed and I teach him to kiss – doesn’t take long. In just a few minutes he’s kissing me like there’s no tomorrow, but it’s still a while before he feels brave enough to put his hand on my waist. I take it as a sign that he’s feeling more relaxed and less scared so ready for more. I pull his t-shirt off.

B hasn’t yet shaved but the fluff on his upper lip says this time is not far off now. No chest hair either and all his body is smooth and soft, long and slender. He reminds me of Bambi. His view of himself is obviously that of a typical Independent escorts in Edinburghpubescent teenager: tall, skinny, with awkwardly long extremities, shy and gawky. In reality, at 6’4″ he’s very well-proportioned and slim. He’s clearly a late developer, but you can tell that in a year or so he’ll fill out and become a very attractive young man. And in ten – twenty years he’ll be missing the times when his waist was so slim. But right now he’s just a very touching boy.

We do all the usual stuff: I show him how female body looks and works, we try different positions so he could find what works better for him, a few dos and don’ts, but throughout the date it’s clear that the thing he loves most is kissing. When I first entered prostitution, I was very puzzled by this: it is general knowledge that kissing is for women while men prefer more exciting things, so why do all clients want to kiss? Ah, the beauty of stereotypes! Men love to kiss just like women if not more.

I walk him back to Princes Street. Yes, usually it’s the client who sees me off and hails a cab for me, but B is just too sweet to let him wander around an unknown city at night. On the corner, he bends down a foot and we kiss for a few minutes until eventually I tear him off my face, pinch his bum one last time and push him in the direction of Waverley. Later in an e-mail I send him the link to the condoms of his size with a few more tips on things we didn’t cover in person. I’d rather he learnt from me than from his mistakes.

The thank you e-mail arrives the following day. He’s sorry he wasn’t showing just how much he enjoyed himself, but he did and he’s very grateful. Pity his job isn’t too well-paid or he’d see me every month if I let him. This is sweet, but if you recall, a long time ago I outlined 5 groups that clients can be divided in and he’s that rare example of someone who I think should find a girl and settle down. This isn’t to say that sex work is bad and we aren’t as deserving as civilian women, this is just because I’d very much like to see him happy. Or, which you will find easier to believe, I’d rather he gave the civilian women a chance and through this found the true appreciation for my work when he’s forty and ready to re-discover the wonderful world of prostitution.

And something else on the subject. Maybe it’s my age, but recently I’ve been curious about what happened to those men who brought their virginity to me. Have they been able to apply their newly-acquired skills? Have they found them useful? Do they feel that the lessons paid off? One of the downsides of my position: I don’t get to find out what happens to people once they leave.

The Italian Job

As with most things sinful, the beginning was rather innocent. The client, let’s (aptly) call him The Italian, e-mailed me in April. A very short message: do you speak Italian? I told him the truth. I understand Italian and can write reasonably well (with Google translate opened in the next tab) on conversational level but speak – not so much: nowhere to practice in Scotland. Nevertheless, he got back to me asking for a booking at the end of May. I agreed. Little did I know of exactly how much fun I signed up for.

End of May arrived, and so did The Italian. In the morning, when he texted to confirm the afternoon booking, he asked if I have any friends for the 2 friends he came to Edinburgh with, preferably Italian-speaking ones. This idea (entertained by many punters) that all hookers know each other is really irritating. I wanted to reply that sure, I’ll take my friends out of the draw and blow them up, shouldn’t take me more than 15 minutes with a good pump. But language barrier is a pain, so I ended up saying that it’s not my responsibility  to arrange his friends’ sex life. Nor is it his. If they want to get laid, the least they could do is try to find someone for it, like he did.

Yet, when I met The Italian, I understood how difficult it must be to find an escort in Edinburgh if you don’t speak or read a word of English. He must have been lucky to come across me. His friends were less fortunate, poor sods. So when the booking was over, I moved from the bed to the desk and The Italian switched on his laptop. This is how for the second time in my life I started looking for a prostitute.

After about half an hour of hard work we short listed three and a half ladies (initially it was 4 but read on) all of whom had Italian as their nationality. Out of these, 3 women did not speak a word of Italian, and the 4th was Spanish and she did speak some Italian, but after a brief conversation with her he hung up the phone.

– It’s a man!

– Don’t be silly, of course it’s a woman!

– Did you hear this voice? (I did, and well, as I said, we short listed 3.5 ladies)

– But she’s Spanish, what do you expect? She can’t help it!

– If it’s not a man, then a transsexual!

I didn’t manage to persuade him to give this lady a chance so we went on with the search. At some point he started looking keenly at me and eventually asked if I’m free this week-end at all. Maybe I could take care of his friends?

I panicked.

For two reasons.

First of all, his friends were Italian. My experience with Italian clients is mixed but mostly unpleasant. Not negative: they have never been violent, abusive or rude to either me or any other sex worker I know of. But the majority of Italian clients IN MY EXPERIENCE seem to be under the impression that sex work isn’t about human interaction. They don’t care much for sharing the pleasure, they don’t want to chat or kiss. All they want is get it over with and get out. While clients like this exist all over the globe, Italy seems to be the only country supplying them TO ME in abundance, and with only 20% of all my Italian clients being human in the bedroom, the trend is easy to notice. It may of course be a cultural difference or a difference in perception, but I have a strong feeling that this is how Italian sex workers operate (willingly or not) so Italian clients follow the rules they are accustomed to.

Secondly, his friends were his friends. While I’m sure that some of the clients I’ve had over the years knew each other, and some of them I even knew for sure to be friends or colleagues, I have never yet had clients who would know when and where I was engaged with their friends. Call me bourgeois (because a moralist I am not by definition) but this feels slutty to me, almost like sleeping with a football team. And I take pride in being a sex worker, not a slut (no offence to sluts. I am sure that a football team can provide a very rewarding experience).

And so, in panic I googled escort agencies in Edinburgh. I never thought I’d call an agency, and it wasn’t the most satisfying experience, but having spoken to 3 receptionists, I had to give up.

My Italian improved enormously during that week-end. The Italian no 2 was a sweetheart of a client while The Italian no 3 was a typical Italian one. I asked no 2 if he’d ever seen a lady of fixed-rate virtue before and no, he hadn’t. Same as my Italian virgin (who hadn’t seen any lady at all). They make up the 20% mentioned above. To sum it up:

  1. There aren’t enough Italian-speaking escorts in Edinburgh (yep, I enjoyed inserting the link) and
  2. Educating clients is often overlooked in sex work but is, in fact, very important.

Old “friend” – Part 1

This week brought back two old “friends”. Let’s start with the first one, Colin, whom I’ve seen a few times. In fact, quite a few times. But not in the settings that you as a reader are used to imagine.

Up until 2 years ago I visited Edinburgh from time to time – for the Fringe and, of course, while looking for a place to live when I decided to move to Edinburgh. During these trips I advertised in Daily Sport – the fastest (even if not the easiest) way to generate a few clients a day to cover the expenses of your trip, festival tickets and the real estate agent’s fee.

If you don’t know what Daily Sport was 3 years ago (it’s changed now, I hear, but not necessarily for the better) – it’s a highly unpleasant newspaper with about 400-500 ads for “services” all over the UK. An ad consists of a lady’s name, her location and her phone number – nothing else. This ad cost £30 a day (and this is when pimping is illegal in the UK). As you can guess, this newspaper does not provide you with upscale clientele. The average client it gives you is looking for a quick fix at 60 quid for 30 minutes. So this was what I offered.

If right now you’re thinking “why should I be paying her £200 for what other people get for £60!” – think again. Having been “on the game” for 6 years now, I worked in all possible modes and at all possible rates and believe me – there is a difference. Different rates provide you with different experiences. None of them is better or worse, it all depends on what you are looking for. From the point of view of a sex worker, what client are you more likely to give more attention to? The one who pays £60 or the one who pays £200? That’s right. One of them you will want to come back for more. The other one is easily expendable. One pays enough to make sure he’s the only one for the day. The other one has to queue. Here is how an ordinary £60 booking goes:

4pm. Will never skip lunch because of work again (promised religiously to self every day)! I really need to have something to eat when this one is gone. If he leaves by 4.15, I’ll have just enough time for a quick shower and a super quick snack before the next one at 4.30. Hope the next one is a little late – an apple is not going to be enough for me right now. I should have bought some chocolate last night. I wonder if this new bar I saw is as good as it looks! Jesus, will he finish at all today?! I should probably suggest changing the position. Sh!t, what did he say his name was?

– Honey, would you like to go on top now?

4.15 (smoothing out the bed sheets while the client is getting dressed) Was it Monday or Tuesday I changed the sheets last? Ah, who cares, it looks ok, I’ll give it another day.

4.20 (closing the door) Sod the shower, I MUST have something to eat NOW!

And pretty much any post on this blog tells you how an average £200+ date goes so I won’t repeat that but I’ll say this again – neither way is better or worse. It’s up to each sex worker what they feel comfortable providing (not everyone wants/ has the ability to connect with the client and not all sex workers want a long-term relationship with clients as it can be very demanding and difficult emotionally) and it’s up to each client what they want to pay for (good sex is different things to different people).

And now back to Colin. Daily Sport was how I saw him first and after several bookings I even started recognising him. Mentally I referred to him as “hairy bloke no 2” (mind you, it was 3 years ago and he has moved down to no 4 since. The first position is still occupied by the Geordie, the second place now belongs to the Italian virgin and the third is reserved for Mr French – not that there is a competition of any sorts going on) and had a lot of fun taunting him with it.

With Daily Sport days long gone as I settled in one place, you can imagine my surprise when the person who showed up at the time and location agreed for a date turned out to be my hairy bloke number 2! It is not too hard to find me if you want it – I’ve always worked with the same name and phone number, whatever city, rate or affiliation; but it’s the first time when someone I saw for £60 decided that the “new and improved” deal is worth it. Personally, I totally think it is, but of course I’m curious as to what made him think this way.

– Dunno. You were so sensual and intimidating. Remember the last time when…

Colin goes on to describe what I did last time I saw him and I nod like I remember. What I’m really thinking about is “intimidating”. It’s not the first time I’m told I am and for the life of me I don’t know what they mean or how I manage to give this impression. You’d think that people will want to avoid things that intimidate them but men keep coming back: I guess there’s intimidating and intimidating. So I take Colin to the bedroom and intimidate the hell out of him.

Part 2 to follow.

Farewell, February

Sorry about the break, I really am. I’ve been busy with the main site’s updates (if you haven’t seen it yet, go and have a look now! You may have to refresh your screen) but feel free to be upset anyway.

The results of the video survey

were very positive. 18 respondents altogether, of them at least 3 were female.

Question 1: Did you like the videos?

Needless to say, everyone said yes. 5 comments were added, mostly along the lines of “Great idea!”

Question 2: Which one do you prefer?

  • The long one – 11 votes
  • The short one – 2 votes
  • Both are ok – 5 votes

6 comments here: 2 in favour of subtitles, 2 almost identical (longer video = more Jewel), 1 respondent said that the length was irrelevant as long as he could see me there as this brings back the memories, and 1 respondent mentioned that being a female, she did not appreciate the dressing scenes that much and this defined her preference for the shorter video (which I agree with. The stockings scene makes me think of grocery shopping, partly because this is what I usually think of when putting on stockings).

Question 3: Videos or photos? (one respondent skipped this question)

  • A video is more informative – 14 votes
  • Either is fine – 1 vote
  • Photos, please – 0 votes
  • Other options – 2 (both saying that these are different things and there’s no general answer to this question, one of the respondents further stating that what really worked for him was the blog – Aww! Now I feel so bad about taking a break!)

5 comments here: almost every comment says that there’s more personality in a video, one going further to note that unlike with photos, in a video you can’t alter the image or show the object only from an angle that gives a better impression. The same respondent finished his comment with “more people should follow in your footsteps”.

EDINBURGH HOOKER – MODERN TIME ROLE MODEL

I always knew I’d make the headlines. While personally I agree that if there were more people like me around, the world would be a much better place, I also keep it in mind that the competition would skyrocket.

Question 4: Suggestions for the next film.

  • Show how sex workers operate – 10 votes (I’m sure some respondents just mistook this option for a polite way of saying “where’s the action???”)
  • Make it longer with more details – 5 votes (this must be just my dirty mind but details of what? Of the action? I should have had better phrased options – these are notes to self, by the way)
  • Provide more wanking material – 3 votes. Now this is unmistakable. The only consolation is that, judging by the comments, the respondents were not serious about it.
  • Choose better music/ Make it 3D/ Keep it short – 2 votes each
  • Lose the subtitles – 0 votes!
  • Other options – 2. Comments – 9.

Here it’s hard to come up with a system as all comments are so diverse and often completely opposite. Some say that it’s possible to show more without it becoming sordid (as the director put it, an average 12-rated movie is daring in comparison to my videos), others say it’s just fine the way it is, and yet others actually criticize the video for showing too much and remind me that “less is more”. Seriously, what’s a girl to do in a situation like this? That’s right – do as you always did: sod the public and please yourself (again, it’s a note to self, not a call for action to the reader. I’d be out of work if all readers here started pleasing themselves).

Some comments do deserve a little attention though.

“Sit back, let this ride for a while, and then get Almodovar to do your next film”. I can totally see myself in the role of a nun who solicits matadors right outside the nunnery and, once the victim is in my cell, I knock them out with the help of spiked gazpacho and stab them (the bodies are then kept in the fridge in the closed down restaurant next door) – all this is to relieve the pain and grief I’m in ever since my matador lover (played, of course, by Antonio Banderas) left me for a transvestite actor. At the same time, I am haunted by the ghost of my mother (either Carmen Maura or Marisa Paredes, I haven’t made up my mind yet) who is not happy because Banderas was her lover first. Hopefully, Penelope Cruz agrees to take on the role of a street walker who I have to fight for the spot outside the nunnery but eventually we fall in love and leave for El Salvador. X-rated. How can one not love Almodovar!

Another comment: “Show more romance… Have Jewel serve the gentleman the wine (Jewel does not serve gentlemen. It’s the gentleman’s responsibility… to pour wine. And do the rest) by candle light. Perhaps flirt… show Jewel sipping wine (Jewel does not do wine), showing some “leg”, undressing slowly (Jewel does not undress herself unless she’s by herself). Perhaps the more upscale the video than the better clientele?”

The last sentence is completely true and this comment really made me think hard. The idea is tempting, but here are my conclusions:

  1. Scotland and Upscale being on the opposite end of the scale, I’ll have to look for another job.
  2. Showing an upscale client in my video could potentially scare off all my farmers and virgins and I don’t want this to happen! Not only because I’ll be missing them, but also because I believe that
  3. everyone has the right of access to good sex, not just the upscale clients.

And the king of comments (unfortunately, you’ll only see the end of it): “give us (men) more cheek and hard time, we like it really”. He totally nailed it. Forget Mars and Venus. Give a man a hard time and he’ll be yours forever. Took me a few years to figure this out. Where was this respondent in 2006???

The arts of buying a dream and having sex

This is another virgin post. This virgin is a difficult client.

It’s hard to define a difficult client. To begin with, it’s different things for different sex workers. It’s important to remember that a difficult client is not a bad client. It’s a good client. Just difficult. For me, it’s a client who thinks too much. As you can guess, they are rare. Not because I’m so good, but because men who are in bed with a naked woman (who is not their wife) and still able to think are few and far between. And by the way – no, it’s not good for the man. What’s wrong with thinking? In short – the obvious: a bed is not the right place for it. But there is also the long answer.

My job is to sell you a dream. Once you pay for it, you might as well buy it. It’ll make your experience far more pleasant and my work much less difficult.

Romantic and passionate atmosphere is very easy to cook. You will need:

  • a little knowledge about the client,
  • basic analytical abilities,
  • a handful of right moves and gestures,
  • a set of nice teeth to spice up your smile,
  • at least a pinch of charm and
  • a whole lot of self-control pre-mixed with determination.

Just mix and match these according to situation. A little more of this and a little less of that and your client is done! However, nothing will work if the client is difficult and doesn’t want to be done. Like me, for example, – if you know how to sell a dream, you’ll never buy one. This is why I sometimes think that I was born a prostitute. I’ve never been in love. Every (unpaid) date I ever had was just a succession of predictable moves, smiles and words from the seller. I could play along or I could yawn and go home. But I couldn’t buy it.

The difference between sex work and unpaid dating is that my clients KNOW it’s a dream and are prepared to buy it. Except for the diffficult ones. These don’t buy the dream because

  • they don’t want one (some clients don’t care for the dream, they want to buy sex only)
  • I don’t sell the dream they want to buy (I’m a bad actress, I can only play myself)
  • they don’t even see the merchandise

which was the case of the virgin that this entry is about. He was so engrossed in whatever was going on in his mind that I soon gave up on selling the dream and tried to sell at least sex but even that didn’t work. The first time we started, he stopped mid-action to discuss his questions of pleasuring a woman. I initiate sex again but this time he stops to talk about his worries of doing the right things in the right order. We start again and have to stop because he asks to explain a few things about sex trade. This time I wait until he initiates it, and sure enough, he does, which is a good sign – as I think up to the moment when he stops again to talk about something else.

He stops talking and his hand glides down by back. Yeah, right. I’m not falling for this five times in a row! Here I forget about being a professional and turn into an annoyed woman who’s trying to get just one thing across and fails miserably every single time: good sex involves at least two people. I’m paid, but even I tolerate this behaviour only because I know it’s his first experience. If you do this to an average woman, you’ll be virgin for a very long time.

Sex is not the sort of action where, if you are not sure about what to do, you just follow a well-made plan step by step. In a lot of situations – yes, this is how it works. But not in sex. Sex only ever goes up to your plan in one case – when you’re having it with yourself. If there is at least one other person present with you, it’s not about your plan anymore. Besides, there is no perfect plan. Good sex isn’t about starting with A and going all the way to Z. You can start with Q, throw in a little H, a little V, glide through D and spend 10 minutes doing Z until you return to Q because your partner thinks that it’s the best thing to do before L. Then, of course, there will be some T, and all this may lead to O. Or may not lead to O. It may also finish with O. Or it may go on after that. There are numerous possibilies and neither or them is wrong (except, of course, things like biting off your partner’s nipple). Unfortunately, improvising and listening to the other person is not everyone’s forte. Because neither is done with your mind unless you’re a sex worker. That’s why, as I said in the very beginning, thinking is not good for a man. So stop thinking and just do it. Practice makes perfect.

Farewell, June

First of all, there are 2 new pages here. The Quotes page is self-explanatory, as for Jewel’s Own page (filed under Tours and Offers), here’s  the explanation: a client on his second visit remarked that it’s a pity us ladies don’t have loyalty cards as coffee shops do: buy nine drinks and the tenth one is on the house. It was a joke, but hey, it makes sense! We all like regular clients and I firmly believe that loyalty should be rewarded. And so, from now on this lady does. Issue loyalty cards that is, not give away free drinks. I appreciate the fact that not every loyal client will want to carry a Jewel’s Own card in his wallet, but I’m more than happy to keep a track of your comings and goings (which I do anyway, but so far the purpose was different). And for those who’ve been to see me a few times already, I’m happy to go through my notes to see exactly how many fun times we’ve had. And for terms and conditions, please go here.

The rest of the business news is my London tour 20-23 July and the current offer. See relevant pages for details.

I’m almost up to date with my blog, the only missing entries are the April virgin story (I’m doing my best, but it’s tricky to make public something that might be so personal for the other party) and an odd post about an average day in a life of an average lady of an average-rate virtue.

Farewell, April

I’ve been very quiet in April, as you noticed, but at last! At last! At last, my refurbished site is online. I feel like I deserve a holiday. Funny, because it was my webmistress, who did most of the work (putting the site together), and Walter, who got most of the pleasure (working on the background image). All I had to do was to co-ordinate their efforts. Well, let me tell you, managing people is hard work, and it’s very lonely there at the top.

I’ve already had some feedback, which was very positive and very pleasant to receive, especially when in person and unexpected (thank you, Neil), but if you have any comments or suggestions, please let me know (either e-mail or a comment here is fine. I’ll ignore either if it doesn’t contain words “Wow!” and “Blimey!”). My webmistress and Walter (aka PEC – photoshop-endowed client) will be informed of all the positive things you have to say, I owe it to them.

The content of the site is still the same except the index page where I changed a few words. Index page, being one of those pages people only click ENTER on but never read, could display an assortment of Bible quotes and no-one would notice. Pity.

I’ll catch up on the blog content as soon as I can, inserting posts here and there on relevant dates. I’ve another virgin story to tell! Meanwhile, you can have a look at May offers. Also note that I’ll be in London 12-15 May, so get in touch if you’d like to catch me there.

A Complex Post, Part 2

Continued from Part 1.

Where was I? Oh yes, virginity. Way overrated. As a present to your loved one. I’m not even going to mention a test drive which is usually used as an example. No, I’m not even going to reduce it to a pair of shoes which you will most likely try on before buying. Because in both examples you can still return the item if it doesn’t meet your needs after all. You can’t do this with a person, so I’ll use other words, like “life is too long to spend it being unhappy and unsatisfied. We all deserve better”.

I might be wrong, of course, but the way I see it, if one day I decided to give up my life as it is now in exchange for spending the rest of it with just one man, that would be the measure of how important that man was for me. Because on my part it would be a sacrifice. A big one. But if I’d never had sex before, I’d have simply been giving away something that I don’t have. Virginity is an empty gift box. It wouldn’t show my love for the person (mind you, it doesn’t mean that the love is not there). It would only show my naivete, my lack of experience (not necessarily sexual) and self-knowledge. At best. At worst, it would show my lack of respect for my partner as I’m expecting him to commit to a lifetime with someone who might not be able to satisfy him sexually.

And the other way round. I don’t mind a man giving me his virginity, not because I see it as yet another trophy, but because I know that I’m a far better teacher than some others out there. However, I wouldn’t want to jump into a relationship with him. I’d rather he went and met other women/ men and saw how it works for him. This form of interaction with other people would give him some practice and invaluable experience, all this leading to a better understanding of who he really is and what he really wants. If after that he wants to come back – great: he saw what’s out there and still wants to be with me, it would mean a lot to me. If he finds someone else – great: he was able to compare me with others and made an informed decision based on his experience and preferences; if we’d stayed together, we’d have split up over this later so in effect he saved me a lot of time which I can dedicate to looking for someone who suits me better. But I wouldn’t want him to stay with me simply because I was his first woman: I’d prefer being his choice over others any day of the week to being his sole option. Not only does it have a sad ring to it, it also puts needlessly more pressure on me to keep this person happy (yep, I’m scared of commitment as much as the next guy, if not more).

What seems to happen rather often is that, as years go by and one of the ex-virgin parties gains some sexual experience from lovemaking with their spouse, they realise what it is that really works for them and the potential joy that sex can bring to their life, and then they discover that their partner is not remotely interested in this. At first, of course, it feels all right, as they still love each other, but more years go by, and the concentrated desire for self-expression through sex starts looking for a vent. Which is when my phone rings.

If you do believe that virginity is the way to go (and again, there is nothing wrong with it), then at least discuss it with your future partner. Tell them what you expect from your sex life together and ask about their expectations. It’s rather difficult if you haven’t had sex before and in reality you have no clue what you’re talking about, but at least you tried. When I raised this issue with D who decided to keep his virginity after all (more here), the conversation went like this:

– Love is important [blah-blah] and virginity is so touching, so romantic, so 16o3. But at least discuss sex with your future wife, make sure she doesn’t mind kissing and whatever else you think you might want to do once you have a chance.

– But I couldn’t! It’s so tactless! She might think I’m only after sex.

– (eyes roll) Right. I’ll see you in twenty years’ time then (and for those who are wondering, I have good reasons to believe that I will still be in business).

Seriously, if you made a choice, be responsible enough to follow it through in such a way that others involved didn’t have to suffer.

A Complex Post, Part 1

This post is about maturity, responsibility, making informed decisions and getting to know oneself through gaining experience, in short – boring, so feel free to skip it. It’s been forming for years now, but inexplicably April was rich in clients who could be a perfect illustration for this post.

The first time I consciously thought of it was 4 years ago in London, chatting with a regular client. He frequented me (and a lot of other ladies) because he wasn’t getting what he wanted out of his marriage. No, he wasn’t after some exotic practices. He enjoyed kissing, cuddling and pleasuring women orally – an average man, if you please. His wife, however, was a Catholic, and a good one at that. For her sex was means of procreation, not a source of pleasure. She didn’t want to be pleasured or kissed, as both were dirty (involving saliva and germs) and useless (not leading to conception) practices.

No matter what woman you complain to me about, be it your wife or another sex worker, I will always take her side, even if I disagree with her. In this particular case it wasn’t hard. Was the woman a Catholic when my client proposed to her? Yes, she was. Was he aware of it? Yes, he was. Did she have the right to be Catholic/ Rastafarian/ Alien if she wished so, and in the fashion that suited her? She sure did (in fact, it’s great to see that she stuck by her principles and didn’t go along with his desires just because he was a man and thus more important than her, as some women believe). They didn’t have sex before marriage (I told you she was a good Catholic) and didn’t talk about it either.  So he made an informed but irresponsible decision to marry her in the hope that she would change, which she, being a good Catholic, didn’t do. 30 years down the line he was busy with his face between every single pair of woman’s legs that he could persuade to open, and she, knowing this, wouldn’t divorce him to find another man to be happy with because she was a good Catholic. Two people hating each other for the miserable unfulfilled lives they’ve had – a true marriage blessed by the church (sorry, but I had to do it at least once).

This was an extreme case. Most other clients with similar issues are happy with their marriages. But the issue is still there. The issue, as I see it, is that they committed to a life with another person, not knowing if this person is right for them. In other words, they haven’t had sex before marriage.

I’m not saying all the virgins are bound to get disappointed in their marriages. I’m sure there are lots of successful marriages where either one or both partners were virgins. But I obviously don’t get to meet these people, so I’m concentrating on the ones that I do come across. The post itself is for those who are still virgin; let’s face it, it’s no help to ex-virgins unless they want to find more reasons to kick their own butt.

Virginity is way overrated from my point of view. For the record, I don’t think there is anything wrong with it: I kept mine till a month before my 22nd birthday (and to be honest, I now think I should have waited a little longer). I am not promoting promiscuity here either. And I believe that the first time is better with someone whom you trust (emotional attachment and physical attraction are optional), regardless of the sex, sexual experience and need for payment. But I do think that it should be done before Mendelssohn is played and not after.

My reasoning to follow in Part 2 as this one is long enough already.