People assume its just so easy to exit from the sex industry, but like any addiction there are severe withdrawals. There are no real alternatives to exit the sex industry. There are no social support networks that eliminate the FACTORS that placed women in prostitution — how can we eliminate the ills of society? There will always be inequality in a capitalistist system — it’s comprised of the “haves” and the “have nots.”
Most escorts, including myself, fall in love and hope their lover will ‘protect’ them, but that’s not addressing our problem. The problem is multiple: the addiction to money, the stigma, and lack of social acceptance. There are services for various addictions, but where is the help for women addicted to selling their bodies?
Another problem is denial. For years, I felt there was nothing wrong with me. I was in denial of my pain. Even worse, I gained so much pride (ego) from making fast-money. I felt having money and autonomy would override my pain. Clients further gave me the impression I was in “good shape” because they always compliment on how I was so ‘normal.’ Many clients enjoyed me because they thought the industry didn’t affect me. Yet it’s all fake, and lies. My ego was a mask, hiding the polluted soul inside. I made sure that people saw I was confident, while on the inside I felt misery, insecurity and hopeless. What causes this pain is the stigma, because we are marginalized for not conforming to the norms.
I am accustomed to tuning out my emotions because of this job. I am a master at being fake — faking a smile, faking happiness – it’s become normal to me. I hide my pain, but sometimes its unbearable that I just retreat from everything and everyone. We cannot run away from our emotions…they will never go away unless we deal with them.
Children who experience disruption in childhood (with their parents) are likely to suffer with ‘trust’ in adulthood. I am scared to trust. I constantly fear abandonment, rejection. I retreat before I can be neglected. I use my work (prostitution) as a method that allows me to ‘profit’ from being neglected. Men can use my body at their advantage and neglect me at the same time. Yet somehow, the money is supposed to compensate for this act of neglect. Basically, prostitution is saying it is OKAY to neglect someone if you pay them off. I make a lot of money to be used. I mean, it isn’t as terrible as I am making it seem….I am treated respectfully, thankfully. Clients do not hurt me physically, and in reality my clients are extremely polite and respectful of my rules as a courtesan. I do not blame clients either, because not all clients have the intention of neglecting me. Many men tip generously, and feel their money will ‘help’ me get away from the business. The sad reality which they, and most people, don’t realize is: giving a prostitute money is like giving drugs to a drug addict. The money doesn’t pay emotional turmoil of being hated by mainstream society.
My ex was my client, and he wanted to protect me. As mention, there is a minority of clients who are fearful of rejection themselves: These clients are looking for acceptance and THEY are rejected by prostitutes. I also have to reject men. I encounter clients who have feelings for me, yet I am not interested at all. They want love and companionship, not just sex. And of course, I just want their money. The only exceptions has been my ex, the Sheik, and a few young Saudis whom I felt a connection too.
Yet for the Sheik, I am just a woman on lease — a temporary wife. Saudis hire maids, cleaners, driver, and temporary ‘pleasure’ women like myself. I am his worker too; his lover on lease. Yet he claims to love me more than his own life, swears by god and his mother’s life. He loves me, but his version of love is conditional. Saudis have this mentality: that money buy can anything. Money buys maids, drivers, and sex….and its ”okay.” But how many Saudis feel empathy for the lives of their workers ? Do they feel guilt or remorse? I hardly doubt it. They far too “Arab-centric”….what doesn’t concern them is not important.
The irony of it all is that he, my love, treats me better than himself. He buys whatever I want, and doesn’t buy for himself. He does whatever I want, and all he wants in return is my love. He has designated me as the Queen…and he even loves if I refer to him as my “slave.” Yet I must always remind myself: this is love on a lease. He may treat me like his goddess now, but the reality is he does not think about my future. In his mentality, he thinks giving me lots of money is helping me, but it doesn’t. Giving a prostitute money is enhancing her addiction, not helping it. Is giving alcohol to an alcoholic a benevolent act?? Of course not. Saudi men believe in temporary love, because temporary love is legitimized in their culture. It is sanctioned in their culture/religion by way of Misyaar and Muta (temporary) marriages.
I hide my pain. It’s the fault of the ego I developed from making fast money .. Yet it’s all a facade. I am happy with him, yet it’s followed by unhappiness when I am alone and reflect on everything. I go out and put on my ‘happy face” but when I retreat I feel the wound . I am a deep wound concealed by layers of superficial bliss.
Sometimes the pain unbearable. No one can understand because I portray myself as strong and wise. But the truth is I’m so damaged inside . I don’t pity myself … But sometimes I feel envious of those who had easy lives. Nobody would care even if I did pity. They will say I choose to sell myself and that I could have made better choices.
The Saudi double standard. A stab to my heart… That it’s okay to use me….how does he feel about it all?! A man who claims to love me yet has no intention to marry. It’s selfish.
Do Escorts Enjoy their Lives? Maybe on the outside. We portray our lives as great, luxurious, perfect , but it’s concealing the pain that brought us to serving men we don’t love. Our pride forces us to hide the pain. We are forced to defend our ‘choices’….and defend the lives we made for ourselves…and deny the truth to ourselves. Short term happiness, and long-term depression. Bouts of happiness, followed by retreats of deep thinking and questioning. What sort of happiness did this bring me?