Okay, kids, here's the post-storm report from Matisse and Max. We're still without power - it went out at 2am Thursday. It's out at both my dungeon and our house, which is a bummer.

Friday morning I went to my gym to shower, and re-arranged my session for the day as an outcall, thinking power would surely be back on in one of the houses by nightfall.

Wrong. And of course every hotel in town was booked to the rafters, so we spent a cold Friday night sleeping on a mattress we dragged up close to the pretty but not-very-efficient gas fireplace, with my cat huddled up with us.

Tonight, though, rescue came in the form of Matt, who loaned us his beautiful and extremely comfortable studio to stay in. We had numerous offers from dear and kind friends to put us up, but frankly people, when I'm this cranky, I am no fit houseguest for anyone. And I am cranky.

But I'll live. There's a line I use when I'm pissy about something and trying to get over myself: "Oh, I hope it's the worst thing that ever happens to me." If this is the worst thing that ever happens to me, I'll be all right.

Thank you again to all the super-fabulous people who offered help of all kinds to us. Your thoughfulness is much appreciated. Everyone else, keep your fingers crossed that we get power back soon.

This week's column: wacky phone calls.

Also, there's just one more day to bid on the Strangercrombie auction package that wins you a session with me, some of Monk's rope, and various other kinky goodies. It's for charity, people, so feed the hungry and get your kink on.

Bye!

I seriously lack the time to write today. So – here’s a few more pictures! I got a spiffy new camera for an (early) Christmas gift, whee! I took some shots around the dungeon to test it out.

My trusty bondage chair, custom-made for me by Mr. Wood, my favorite carpenter. I have spent many happy hours standing in front of this piece of furniture.

A bin full of nasty spanky things. And some spreader bars.

One of my toy cabinets. I know exactly where everything is in there.

One corner of my dressing room. Once, a rather silly man asked me, in reverent tones, if he could see “my shoe closet”. He was imagining neat rows upon rows of carefully arranged fetish footwear. Whereas I was thinking, “You put shoes in a closet? Huh. Who knew?”

When I took the picture of my dressing room, I thought: someone is going to ask "Uh, Matisse, what’s that weird thing on the dresser?" The short answer is: Nerdy’s favorite toy. Really! Would I lie? She loves it. She just pretends to think it’s an abhorrent Teutonic crime against nature. Clicky here to see it up close and personal!

(Edit: I'm kidding - Nerdy has never used that toy, Roman and I just tease her about it for no reason - other than the fact that we're mean.)

I got a CD of pix from Malixe yesterday, yay! I need to go through them and pick out my faves. But for now, here’s a semi-candid shot of Jae and I horsing around.
Possible caption: “Why the hell didn’t I bring my strap-on?”

Edited: Clicky-click for the bigger version, so we don't mess with people's display...

Yesterday, as the final event of a jam-packed week, I did a photo shoot with my friend Malixe. I should get the raw images from him today or maybe tomorrow, so I hope to have some fun pictures to show you soon. Malixe isn’t a full-time professional shooter, but he does very good work and because he’s a pal, I’m very relaxed working with him, which is nice. It’s a pretty laid back situation compared to my other shoots – I do my own make-up, and I don’t do anything special to my hair, which means that while the results aren’t as polished and glam as, say, a Tommy Edwards shoot, in some ways they look more like my everyday self.

We had been doing some shots that centered around my feet and stockings, since I’ve had a lot of requests for those lately. I had just changed into my black mesh catsuit when Jae showed up to keep me company and participate in the shoot.

She also showed me some of her fun new make-up finds. As with music, I am not uber-hip when it comes to cosmetics, and I need people to tell me what to buy. Even when they do, I’m not all that skilled with it, so I tend not to bother. Some things I do wear all the time, like mascara and eyeliner. I understand how to do those, and they work. Eye shadow, on the other hand? I often get suckered into buying it, because the colors are pretty and those cunning little containers make it look like candy. But I wind up taking my index finger and rubbing a little of one color on my eyelid and that’s about it. And in an hour or so, it’s gone. Powder blush is the same deal, and I have never gotten the hang of cream blush, it always looks like clown paint on me. I cannot wear liquid/cream base because I always look like I’m wearing a mask, so I just wear pressed powder.

I love lipstick, both because it’s pretty and because I feel so girly putting it on, but most of the time, it only stays on a short time before it, too, mysteriously vanishes. Maybe I’m kissing too many people. But I think there’s just a tom-boy streak in me that’s subtly fighting the makeup. I keep thinking perhaps I should take lessons or something, but then I don’t bother.

Plus, I don’t really want to, because something in me doesn’t trust make-up. I mean, it lets you down, doesn’t it? It smudges, it fades, it smears. It’s inherently untrustworthy. I’d rather spend my money on various facial treatments, so I look okay without much make-up. But Jae informed me that I need to stop being such a make-up Luddite and gave me a Sephora list.

So I went over to the Sephora website. And good lord, there’s a lot of stuff there. I mean, yes, obviously there is. But I’ve never really looked at it all before. I’ve been in the store, of course - but you know what Sephora is like. After about five minutes, I’m all overstimulated with the hundreds of thousands of brightly!colored!shiny! things to look at, and I just have to leave. It’s like an ADD attack or something. I can hardly even focus my eyes, let alone make crucial decisions about Urban Decay vs. Stila.

But online you can look at one thing at a time and I like that much better. So now I have a Sephora list to work on. I'm not sure whether to thank Jae or smack her. Perhaps I'll do both. She'd like that.

Books on the Nightstand

The Ghost Map, by Steven Johnson.

"On August 28, 1854, working-class Londoner Sarah Lewis tossed a bucket of soiled water into the cesspool of her squalid apartment building and triggered the deadliest outbreak of cholera in the city's history….Johnson builds the story around physician John Snow, (pioneering developer of surgical anesthesia) who posited the then radical theory that cholera was spread through contaminated water rather than through miasma, or smells in the air. Against considerable resistance from the medical and bureaucratic establishment, Snow persisted and, with hard work and groundbreaking research, helped to bring about a fundamental change in our understanding of disease and its spread.”

Max bought me this for my birthday and it’s great. Yes, I'm the kind of girl who gets excited about the history of cholera. Kinky, I know.

Sex with the Queen: 900 Years of Vile Kings, Virile Lovers, and Passionate Politics,
by Eleanor Herman.

“In this follow-up to her bestselling Sex with Kings, Eleanor Herman reveals the truth about what goes on behind the closed door of a queen's boudoir. Impeccably researched, filled with page-turning romance, passion, and scandal, Sex with the Queen explores the scintillating sexual lives of some of our most beloved and infamous female rulers."

The history of royal sex lives sounds juicier to you? It is. And now I know that Catherine The Great did not die while having sex with a horse. (She was apparently on the toilet, which you may or may not think is more dignified.) Anyway, it's fun to read.

Blowing My Cover: My Life as a CIA Spy, by Lindsay Moran.

"When Harvard grad Moran entered CIA training in her late 20s, her expectations had more to do with Harriet the Spy and James Bond than with drudge work or service; the reality, as she represents it in this memoir of her training and case work, was a sexist environment filled with career-oriented, shallow people….Though Moran is a likable spy, the wait for significant insights or breakthroughs goes mostly unrewarded for writer and reader alike.”

I don't recommend this - I was rather underwhelmed. The beginning is sort of interesting, as she describes the training, but it loses juice quickly and just sort trails off.


Books I want but haven't got yet...

The Family That Couldn't Sleep: A Medical Mystery, by D.T. Max
Being a chronic insomniac myself (Thank god for Ambien) I’m quite interested to read this. (Although no, I don't think I have prion disease.)

“In 1765, Venetian doctors were stumped by the death of a man who had suffered from insomnia for more than a year and spent his final months paralyzed by exhaustion. Over the next two centuries, many of his descendants would develop similarly fatal symptoms. Finally, in the early 1990s, their disease was recognized as a rare genetic form of prion disease... Looking at prion disease in general, Max doubles back to the English mad-cow epidemic of the 1990s, retracing established backstories among New Guinea aboriginals and European sheep herds. There's enough fascinating material—in particular, a theory suggesting that early humans were nearly wiped out by a plague spread by cannibalism—to keep readers engaged, but they're likely to want still more about the genuinely captivating family drama.”

The Secret Life of Houdini: The Making of America's First Superhero, by William Kalush, Larry Sloman.

“Kalush and Sloman appear to have raked through every known Houdini archive to produce the most comprehensive and controversial biography ever written about the man, with its contention that he was a spy who may have been murdered by a cult."

I can’t wait to get this one! Houdini was such a fascinating person, and I'm very interested in stuff about 18th and 19th century spiritualism.

The new column and calendar...

My eBay auctions continue, but now you can actually bid on time with me in person, in The Strangercrombie Gift Auction. It's for charity, baby, so buy me!

Bye!

A few thoughts from the weekend…

I went to see “Casino Royale”. My response: “What, James Bond thinks that is torture? The guy’s just barely tapping his balls with that piece of rope. They aren’t even tied up, there’s no weights on them, nothing. Man, 007 is a candy-ass compared to a lot of my guys, they’d just laugh if I did that to them.”

Monk: “Well, he actually did start laughing, but to me it looked like he was getting a little endorphin buzz.” Pause. “I liked the shot of the girl all tied up on the road. They should have showed more of that.”

But, other than that, it was a good Bond movie. Everyone pooh-poohed Daniel Craig when he got tapped for the role, but I thought he had a charmingly brutal energy that’s more reminiscent of Sean Connery than anyone else who’s had the job since. You can actually see him being a guy who kills people for a living.

I myself think I should get a job as sexy-torture consultant for movies. Or maybe I should work for the government training government agents to resist interrogation and CBT through a careful hardening process. Whoops, did I say hardening?

The Partial Suspension class yesterday rocked, thanks to all of you who attended that. And speaking of cocks in bondage, next month Max is doing a class that covers bondage for the head and hair, and also bondage for the genitals. Guess who's helping teach the genitals part? That would ME. Guess who's going to be graciously providing me with a stunt cock to demo said genital bondage on? I'll give you a hint: it ain't Max.

There will be female genital bondage demos also, and while I haven't actually asked her yet, I'm going to take a chance and say that I have a stunt model for that part too. She's never let me down so far...

In other news: Monk comes home from DC today, and I will be very happy to see him. My eBay auctions continue - I added some new items. And I’m writing up a weird phone call for the column next week. That’s the shape of my world today…

Hey, bargain-minded ladies! I’ve gotten a lot of new clothes lately – and that means I have to get rid of some older stuff. So, eBay, here it comes, and yes, I'm going to use my blogger fame to sell this stuff.

I’ve got about thirty items altogether, but I’m going to stagger the listings so I don’t wind up trying to box and ship all that stuff out at once. First round: coats and jackets. In a few days, I’ll list the pants, and after that, the dresses and tops.

So eBay is fine, but I wish I had a close girlfriend who was my size so could swap clothes. Miss K is six feet tall and the complete opposite of me in body-shape: very hour-glassy, with big boobs, this little tiny waist, and full feminine hips. She looks like she’s wearing a corset even when she’s not. (Bitch.) She has this long, thick, black, naturally curly hair, too. I often kid her that if we told a random person that one of us was a dominatrix, guess which one, they’d point to her every single time. She so looks the part.

Jae is shorter and slightly curvier than me, has totally different coloring, and a somewhat different fashion esthetic overall. We like the same kinds of boots - but she wears a size three. So that’s not much good.

I’ve given some stuff to Puck, but she’s taller than me, with a longer torso, and so a lot of it won’t fit her, either. What is a girl to do?

So, if you’re in a shopping mood, go check it out.

It better not snow today. Not very much, anyway. Or at least not where I am. I have been very patient about this weather for the last three days, but I have things to do and people to spank today!

While I watch the sky, read the new column...

Letters from readers…

Hi...I was wondering if you have any ideas or know of any websites on how role playing of this nature can be adapted to character playing in MMORPG games? I ask cause I play World of Warcraft and me and another person I play with have started a background game of sorts, she plays the dominant personality that demands to be respected and addressed as Mistress and I play the submissive role; But my limited experience in this makes it get repetitive way too quickly because I simply don’t know the types of things to say to advance it beyond basic stuff like "Yes, Mistress, as you command Mistress" & "How may I please you Mistress". I don’t know how familiar you are with MMO's if at all, but the basic thing we are looking for is mostly to adapt our regular communications needed to complete game objectives to this style of role playing and occasionally just do some text chat role playing of this nature. Also, not sure if it would make a difference but She is in real life female and I am male but in the game both our characters are female (I know, typical guy makes a female toon...what can I say, it's fun and unlike many guys I actually get into the roleplaying part and play as if I were female to the best of my ability) Any ideas you can share or websites you can point me too would be much appreciated.

Okay, I just ran out of geek credibility, because I actually do not play these games, and I have only a very vague idea of what this reader is even talking about. Anyone want to offer this guy suggestions? Because I got nothing.

***

I am 19 yr old girl looking to get into BDSM, I want to be a sub. I was wondering if you could either direct me to a website or had any advice about staying safe? I have concerns about (unasked for) violence or other problems.

I have read your blog a few times, and I love it and the Stranger.

Thanks for your time

Young lady, I’d like to help you, but I’m afraid this letter falls into the “intellectual laziness” category. Sure, I have advice for you about staying safe: don’t play with strangers. But I bet you could have figured that out for yourself. If you want more specific information, tell me what you’ve already done to educate yourself. Have you Googled “BDSM safety”? I bet not.

If you want more information from me, work harder at framing a specific question that’s easy for me to answer in three minutes or less, because that’s about all the time I can devote to each of the many individuals who want me to be their pro bono kink advisor.

***

My name is *** and I enjoy your column very much. Have only been reading for the last year, but I've gained a lot of insight, so thank you. :) Though I've no interest in the lifestyle, I do have a heavy interest in bondage and links for Japanese bondage have helped me immensely so thank you.

On the topic of BDSM, I'm trying to understand the lifestyle and the people who choose it without judgment or preconceived bullshit ideas. I think I've grasped the fundamentals, I hope, but I do have a serious problem with Doms who call their Submissives degrading names, such as, "Look at me when I'm talking to you, you stupid bitch!" or assaulting their Sub, i.e., punching/slapping the face, body.

I have not seen this in action, I've only "heard" about it and of course, seen the requisite silly examples from TV and film. The questions I have are these: Is this a condoned behavior from the Dom? If so, is this a behavior the Dom has either picked up or been told by the Submissive that it's what they want to hear/receive? And why would a Submissive tolerate this sort of abuse? Am I not nearly so enlightened as I think I am? ::cringes:: If this name-calling/hitting behavior isn't condoned, or something the Sub wants, could it be something only a wannabe or control freak thinks they should say?

First, a style note - it's not really customary to capitalize the word "submissive". It's not strictly necessary to capitalize the word dom, domme, or dominant, either, although some people do. (Also, the word "sub" is, in my opinion, a blot upon the face of the kink world, unless one is referring to an underwater boat or a sandwich. But I acknowledge that I'm in the minority here.)

Now, to the meat of your letter. There’s a saying in BDSM: Your Kink Is Okay, My Kink Is Okay. What I’m hearing is that you don’t want to get slapped, punched or verbally humiliated at this time. (Please refer to item number 11 here to learn why you shouldn’t say you never ever would, though.) But many other people actually like those things. Porn and popular media are the worst possible way to learn about what real BDSM looks like, so you shouldn't take them at face value. But as a player, I can tell you, yeah, I’ve slapped people’s faces, I’ve punched people’s bodies, I’ve said and done extremely mean and humiliating things to people. It was negotiated and consented to, and we both got off on it. That's why we did it.

So, no, you're not quite as enlightened as you think you are. But to give you credit: I think you’ve let go of judgment about the activities you like in BDSM. That’s a legitimate thing - lots of people never stop hating themselves for their desires.

Now, the next step is to let go of judgments about stuff that doesn’t turn you on. And you've definitely got some judgement going on, with words like "assault" and "abuse". It is harder to unlearn judgemental attitudes when there's no compelling reason to do so, like getting off. I’m not going to lie and say I myself have never turned up my nose at a scene that I wouldn't choose to participate in. But part of being a compassionate and mature member of the community is learning some acceptance of others. I don't like oysters, so I don't eat them. But it's fine that other people enjoy them. Right now, somewhere, someone is saying, “Ew, that Japanese bondage stuff is icky, why would anyone want to do that?” But you know that regardless of what it looks like to them, to you, it's a good thing. Try to remember that when you see someone doing a scene that wouldn’t trip your trigger.

Weekend Activities

I should really be writing a column. But here are some highlights from my weekend.

Friday night I had pizza at Bill’s Off Broadway with Roman, and we discussed the odd coincidence that two of our three favorite pizza places (Stellars, Bill's and Madam K's) are staffed entirely by heavily tattooed young punks, with safety-pinned clothes and hair that's either flat black or primary colors, and who, as a condition of their hiring, seem required to be disaffected and somewhat surly. (Although in a general rather than an I-hate-you-in-particular kind of way.) I myself am always struck by the fact that punk fashion has remained so remarkably unchanged since I moved to Seattle in 1992. I mean, young punks now dress, do their hair, and in general look exactly like young punks did then. It’s almost spooky, like a wrinkle in time or something. Or maybe they're vampires. (Wouldn't that piss off the goths, to find out it's really the punks who are the undead.)

Saturday Max took me shopping for a birthday gift. We went and looked at red leather jackets, but none of them were quite perfect. So he bought me a new black leather jacket, which I needed, and a short, racer-style white leather jacket, which I definitely did not need, but we both thought I looked awfully cute in it, so he got it for me. Yay Max.

I also bought these shoes, which are completely ridiculous and not at all like me. I don’t like frouffy, busy stuff. I like clean, minimalist lines and styles. But…But…They were just so cute, I couldn’t help myself.

Then we went to a party at a pal’s house, where we chatted and hung out with friends, and Max did very mean things with a single-tail to a very cute girl. I didn’t do a scene exactly, but Jae was there and she goaded me a bit, so I had to pin her down on the kitchen floor and smack her around for a little while – much to the amusement of the people standing around us.

Sunday we spent quietly at home, although Max had kindly allowed a certain young lady to borrow our dungeon for the afternoon, as she had a scene planned with a curious-about-bottoming female friend. So occasionally a muffled yelp would float up the stairs to our ears. Charming.

Client update: Looking at my calendar, I’ve still got some time available this week…but that probably won’t last long, so carpe diem. Guys I’ve met before can email me for an appointment, new people must call me on the phone…

General information: if it snows, and it accumulates at all, and you have an appointment with me that day, you should check in with me a couple of hours before your appointment time. This southern girl does not drive in snow, so if it’s bad, we’ll have to reschedule.

I'm thinking I'm going to get some blowback on this one: the new column.

Call I got yesterday…

Ring Ring!

Me: Hello?

Caller: Yes, hello, I want to see you today.

This caller has a very strong foreign accent, and since he hasn’t identified himself as someone I know, I’m going to assume he’s a stranger to me, and quite possibly to this country.

Me: No, I’m all booked today, sorry. You usually have to call me at least three days in advance to get time with me.

Caller: Not today? You have no time today?

Me: No, sorry.

Caller: How about tomorrow?

Me: No, I’m not seeing anyone tomorrow.

Caller: You have no time tomorrow either?

He’s speaking in this totally dumbfounded voice, like he just can’t believe I’m for real.

Me: No, I’m not seeing anyone tomorrow. Perhaps you’ve heard that tomorrow’s a major holiday here in America?

Caller: Even for you?

I roll my eyes. Yes, rude boy, even the likes of me observes the major holidays. I’m sure you’d like me to spend my Thanksgiving stuffing you like a turkey and whipping you like cream, but I have other plans.

And I am accordingly grateful to be spending the day with friends and loved ones. I hope you are too. Happy Thanksgiving.

Good lord, I’m busy - there is truly no rest for the wicked this week. Especially when Max and I are having eighteen people over for dinner tomorrow. Max is the cook in the family, in case you were wondering. I just set the table, chop things up, and stir the gravy. But I’m looking forward to seeing some of my friends, and eating (a lot of) Tambo’s yummy homemade bread.

Meanwhile, I have seventeen million things to do to prepare for that. So perhaps you can amuse yourself with this little NWS video clip, which uses a naked, wet model in rope bondage to sell… something. I’m not sure what. Clothes, perhaps? Hard to say. But maybe if we all watch it very closely, several times, we’ll be able to figure it out. Tough work, I know...

Thank you to everyone who expressed sweet birthday wishes to me. I’ll be posting some more detailed thank-you notes later this week, but for now, I’m off into my natal day…

I’m writing this Sunday night, while I’m rather pleasantly worn out from spending a really lovely weekend with Roman.

My actual birthday is tomorrow, but this was our observation of my birthday, and Roman informed me he was going to spoil me rotten all weekend long.

And thus he proceeded to do just that. Friday night, he took me to one of my favorite restaurants: The Frontier Room. Because you can take the girl out of Georgia, but…she’s still going to love barbeque. And for Yankee barbeque, The Frontier Room is pretty damn good. Plus, the bacon-wrapped-shrimp appetizer is pure sin on a skewer.

Then he took me to see “Stranger Than Fiction”, which was, without a doubt, one of the most subtly brilliant movies I’ve seen in a while. The writing is great, the camerawork is great, the use of visual imagery is perfect, and the performances are stellar. I mean, sure, you can always count on Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson to turn in good work, but I think Will Farrell should get an Oscar nomination for his performance in this film. I had no idea he could do anything other than broad comedy - but he can, and well. I think I particularly enjoyed STF since I myself am a writer and I come from a family thickly populated with writers, but it’s just an excellent movie overall.

Saturday we stayed in bed until, oh, about 1pm. Then we went downtown, had a little early dinner, window-shopped a bit, and then came home to prepare to go out clubbing. Roman had actually never been out dancing at a gay bar until I took him earlier this year, and we had great fun, so off we went to do it again. It was a blast, we danced our little butts off, and Roman was so my big gay boyfriend. A very nice man who works out at my gym was also there, and he told me several times how fabulous I was. I’m unclear if he was telling me that because he recognized me as Mistress Matisse, or if he recognized me me from the gym. (Although when I’m at the gym, what I mainly am is just sweaty.) Or maybe he didn’t recognize me at all, but was just spontaneously acknowledging my intrinsic fabulousness? Hard to say. But whatever it was, it was sweet and I felt very complimented.

And then we stayed in bed again very late Sunday. Mmmmnnn…

The Roman-spoiling-Matisse weekend also included: foot massages, gummi bears, opening cars doors for me, face massages, chocolate doughnuts, and a lot of really amazing conversation about life, love, being outlaws, ambitions, and our relationship.

Of course, he isn't even giving me my actual official birthday present until Tuesday. At least, that’s what he thinks. Me, I think I got the gift this weekend.

Shopping for kinky holiday gifts by local businesses? I gotcha covered in this week's column. Also in The Stranger, an interesting piece by a swinger. Wonder if it's anyone I know?

One more thing: according to blogger Joe. My. God., Mike Jones, the male escort who outed Reverend Ted Haggard, is catching some heat about that. I think that's a shame. Now, don't get me wrong - I think a client's privacy is a extremely important thing, and I would never, ever violate that.

Unless.

Unless you're the politically active fundamentalist minster of a large church with the stated goal of repressing my sexuality and driving me back in the closet and just generally messing with my life. That's the one exception to the "my lips are sealed" rule. Do not stand in a pulpit on Sunday preaching against me and then show up in my dungeon on Monday and expect me to protect you while you attack me.

So if you're the kinky counterpart to the (former) Reverend Ted Haggard, you best not come see me. Everyone else, your secrets are quite safe. And I'm going to go give Mike Jones some money, because I agree that the Haggard scandal played a part in the Blue Wave on Nov 7th.

I'm in the mood to rant.

So there was a whole thread about strippers and the Seattle 4-foot law over on The Stranger Slog earlier this week. Actually it began over on Seattlest, bounced over a blog called “I Blame The Patriarchy”, (I’m not linking to that one, click through The Slog if you want to read it) and then wound up on The Slog.

You can go read all the various opinions if you want to, but I can sum up a big chunk of it for you right here: Strippers – and sex workers in general – are helpless victims who need to be saved from themselves, because they are too damaged by society to make the right choices. Sex work is, forever and always, a form of socially-tolerated rape and no woman really consents to doing it, she just thinks she does. Or she’s lying. Because all clients treat sex workers like shit and they really just want to degrade and humiliate them, since that’s just how men are.

You can just imagine what I think about this kind of attitude. I mean, hey, I didn’t much like being a stripper here in Seattle, either. So I quit. That's how that works, in my mind. But some of those people have got a major victim-glorification thing going on. Sex workers apparently bear no personal responsibility for what we do, we’re just slaves, and men are filthy ravenous beasts who assault us.

What a flock of crap. But okay, fine - let’s put aside my very lengthy sex work experience and the experience of lots of other women I have known personally that says the direct opposite of all that, because while I like my job and have fabulous clients, I have indeed known women who disliked being sex workers. Most women, in fact, are not cut out for it, and they should not be doing it. I have a lot of sympathy for sex workers who decided, say, four months ago, that they hated the job. I’d like to help women like that quit and get other jobs.

But if you decided, like, five years ago that you hated the sex industry, and that it was fucking with your head, and ruining your relationships, and making you frigid, and just generally chewing your soul into tiny little pieces on a nightly basis, and you’re still here, then my sympathy for you is pretty limited.

Let’s get real: the sex industry is not going to change. It is what it is, and you can moan and bitch about how the world should be, and you can get all Marxist and talk about the oppression of the working class, and yeah, that’s terribly high-minded, but it doesn’t pay your rent, okay? So the day you decide that you hate the sex industry, that's the day you need to start making a plan to get out.

I hear that you can’t quit today because of your financial obligations. Golden handcuffs are a thing, it’s true. But a vast number of women in the world seem to be making a living without working in the sex industry, so we know this is do-able. It’s probably going to take a little time, but you have the luxury of keeping your highly-paid, flexible-hours job while you ramp up to whatever is next. Most people don’t get that. And I find that tough situations often get more tolerable if you’re actually taking steps to remedy the problem.

If you have a degree and a career in mind, then okay, what the hell are you waiting for? You have no college degree, you say you’re not qualified for anything that pays a living wage? That’s not uncommon. Get your ass over to the community college and get registered for a two-year technical degree in something. Oh, you don’t want to be a dental hygienist? Well, you don’t want to be a sex worker, either, and dental hygienists keep their clothes on and get healthcare benefits. You don’t have to stay in this career for the rest of your life, you’re just picking a job that you’ll like better than the one you’ve got now. Or save up and buy a carpet-cleaning franchise, or study to become a real estate broker, or whatever. But pick something and move towards it.

(There’s a gray area here, and that is women who are artists/musicians/actresses/writers. Sex work can be a great way to support a low-paying but highly fulfilling career in the arts. But at a certain point, one has to be brutally honest with oneself and decide, “What evidence do I have that I will ever be able to totally support myself doing this?” And “Well, other people do!” is not evidence. Look at it this way: you need your soul to be an artist of any kind. If sex work destroys your soul, then your art will suck ass. You may have to back-burner the muse until you get a day job you can live with.)

Next, start downsizing. Whatever you’re spending your money on – big apartment, fancy car, designer clothes, whatever – stop that. Move to a smaller apartment, get a roommate, live with your family, move further out from the city, whatever you have to do. Get a cheaper car. Stick your credit cards in the freezer. Start living like you make much less money than you do and save as much as you can.

None of this is rocket science, but oddly, most of the women I have known who said they hated the sex industry weren’t doing these things. But just hanging around in the dressing room, smoking and endlessly whining about much you hate this job, is stupid. It’s like standing on the deck of the sinking Titantic, talking about how much you hate the ocean. The water is only going to get higher, baby, so get into a lifeboat already! Yeah, it might be a rough ride for a while, but a careful examination of the alternative should indicate that it’s the best option.

I have lately had the pleasure of seeing a good exit plan put into action. My dear friend Miss K, after eight years as an escort, decided she was done with it. Like the smart girl that she is, she’d cleared all her student loans and credit card debt and had saved up a large sum of money in that eight years. Now she’s going to graduate school and living, quite frugally, on her savings and some money she inherited from a relative. She plans on getting a part-time job in her field of interest while she's in school. She wishes her old clients well, but it was time for her to go do something else.

So go is the operative word here. Hate the job? Go. Go towards something that makes you happier. I’ll give you a boost, if I can. I’ll at least cheer for you. You will not change the nature of the sex industry. But you can change whether you’re in it or not.