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Coping with stress..

I once heard a joke that said, “How can you leave your house without being high and not cry??” Indeed, being ‘numb’ makes life easier. However, I don’t take drugs and I don’t drink alcohol. But…I do have weaknesses: tea and cigarettes.

Unfortunately….I have started smoking, again. Thank goodness it’s not that severe (yet)..but I’m worried these “puffs” here and there will evolve to being a full-time smoker, again. I’m so angry at myself.

I had successfully quit for over two years, on the advice of my ex-fiancee. My smoking life was short-lived back then, as I only smoked full-time for just over one year.

I blame my smoking on my own stupidity, and my travels through Europe, particularly the Eastern bloc, a few years ago.

So why did I start again? Well, I can blame it on the Saudi boys. I would say 98 percent of the Saudi students I’ve encounter are smokers, mostly chain-smokers.

I really do not want to pollute my lungs, yet the addiction is consuming me. This week I have my final exams for uni…so I’m turning to large amounts of tea and cigarettes for comfort (I would try orgasms, but they distract me from my studying).

I’m hoping I will kick this unhealthy habit by the weeks end. So smoking is quite icky in my view (for myself, that is).

My other addiction, which is only harmful for my mental state, is my mobile phone and laptop! I swear, my life was much better when I didn’t have people sms (texting) or emailing me at all hours of the day. Like the smoking, I’m hoping to cut out (or downsize) various technology from my life.

I can’t help but thinking of myself ending up like Samia Gamal’s character in “A Glass and a Cigarette.” It’s a very old Egyptian film starring the lovely Samia Gamal as a belly dancer (the equivalent to being a stripper among Egyptian society during that time) who’s life goes turmoil with her bad habits.

Anyway, I have to get back to studying. However, I have much to write about. I have been thinking of the Saudi male mentality and their ‘heavily disguised’ self-serving attitude towards their non-Saudi girlfriends….(more to come)..

*Oh and I want to touch bases one day on khaleeji’s and their frequent trips to neighbouring countries (Bahrain, UAE, Kuwait, Syria, Morocco) for the purpose of having sex with girls (mostly prostitutes).

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Loving a man who can’t promise me the world…….

So…I tried to end things with him (the Sheik, my Saudi client/lover) yesterday, for the second time. First I said we need to talk, and over the phone I explained to him why its better for us to separate now. But of course, it didn’t work. He loves me and I love him, which is our problem.

Instead, he rushed over to my apartment, because he said he needed to see me. We talked about “us”…but came to no conclusion. He said he can’t let me go, and how much he loves me. He playfully calls me his wife, and talks romantically about taking me back to SA. I hate it. It makes me angry…because it’s impossible. I was hoping he would give me comfort and talk about ‘a’ future together, but he didn’t.

He stayed over, and we woke up this morning together in loving embrace. I really don’t know what to do with him. We love each other, and there is no future for us. I ask myself what is the point of this relationship? He still pays me generously, but can money make up for the fact we have no future?

Ironically, the rest of the night was actually quite lovely with my Saudi love. We made love, and I felt at ease. I was so relaxed with him. I laid back and let him tease me until I felt ultimate pleasure. He ended up giving me the most intense pleasure as a result. I truly feel like we are just addicted to each other, even though we both know there is no future benefit.

After he left in the morning, my anger reemerged. Numerous questions floated in my mind. How can he really love me if he knows he can’t marry me? Doesn’t he think of how heart-broken I will be when he has to leave? Sometimes I am convinced that I’m just his foreign “Arab-like” whore, but then why is he is yearning to do everything that couples do?


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It’s out of my control..

I am in love. Yet I’m ill-prepared. My whole world is a mess….all because of these feelings. I wish I wasn’t in love, but I can’t control it. I fear the things that come along with it….I’m not ready.

My A-average will definitely take a plunge this semester…….because of this thing called love. I can’t concentrate on anything, but the moments…

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Rich and Broken-Hearted

December was a good month. Now it is the New Year 2011. The money was made (and a generous portion of it spent!) and I feel empty again.

After periods of breaks, I started working independently as an escort last month. My rates were slightly higher than the going rate for high-class companionship. My phone rang continuously after minimal advertising and continues to ring. I felt very thankful, because I was not sure what to expect. My rates were high, and my service was safe. In the escorting world, most girls who want to charge high rates have to include more ‘extras’ apart from just sex with a condom…..which I simply refuse to do. So I feel thankful. I had a handful of clients that I didn’t even have to sleep with. This is where escorting becomes addictive: when I have clients who pay lots of money for a relatively easy session (ex: minimal work for me).

Yet I sit here. Depressed. Lonely. Full of doubt and uncertainty.

I have been a high class prostitute for nearly five years now. However, I have never done this work full-time, and have had many breaks/vacations in these years. I started in my late teens and now am in my early-mid twenties.

My ex-fiance brought up a great point in a conversation the other day: “I have made a lot of money and it never made me happy.” This is also true for myself. In the five years I’ve been in the sex industry I have made quite a bit of money, traveled the world, owned most of the material possessions I’ve wanted (except the big one, purchasing a home)…and yet I’ve never been satisfied. And even worse, I have saved nothing. Money that comes easy goes very easily. The old cliché is something I truly believe: more money, more problems.

This blog is about the reality of getting into ‘high-class’ prostitution. I used quotations on ‘high-class’ because the term can often distort the reality. The elegance and glamor of escorting is mostly a facade. It really comes down to SEX — sadly, in most cases, the sex is meaningless between escorts and clients. Yes, sex can be the most spiritual, beautiful experience of two people, but only when true chemistry is established. The reality is that most escorts and clients are not having amazing chemistry. In my own experiences, I do establish chemistry with some of my clients indeed (I enjoy talented men), but my experiences of enjoying clients is certainty not the case for the majority of other escorts. In my blog, I will hopefully get to talk about things from ‘The Girlfriend Experience’ to the types of clients I encounter. I will also mention great books or films I watch that depict the lives/memoirs of other working girls.

Last time I re-read the last few chapters of a book called, “Disgraced” by Saira Ahmed. It’s about a Pakistani-Muslim girl who became a high-class escort. In the last few chapters she discusses her entering and leaving of the escort business. A few times her recollections have brought me to tears when she speaks about how it changed her view of men and her relationships. She was no longer able to see life with blissful ignorance…

At this moment, I am reminded of my ex and I. I still love him. I left him a few months ago….on my own selfish whim.

Being with him for 2.5 years made me realize that I can’t revert to the ‘normal’ life. Back then, however, I assumed that I could easily quit escorting and transition to live a ‘normal’ life when I was ready. In reality, however, it’s not easy to erase an entire lifestyle that has shaped me. It’s impossible to erase my unique ‘taboo’ experiences. It may seem silly to say that but the reality is I cannot quit the industry. Most working girls will understand what I am talking about, because many of them have also tried to leave only to find themselves coming back after ‘breaks.’

I have tried leaving the industry three times now. The last time I tried to leave is because I met the man of my dreams. He was a former client of mine. I thought I could give up my work for love, but I realized it’s not so easy (even when my lover is providing for me financially). Every time I had quit, I yearned to go back to escorting — I started to miss my independence and autonomy.

I met my ex fiance in a new context. I was living overseas in a new country and big city. At first I established myself with a new job that was what us girls call a ‘straight job’ (meaning it wasn’t in the sex industry).  It was in retail. I worked full-time for eight hours each day and made petty money. It didn’t matter because it was just part of the experience of living in a new country for a while. Part of the reason I moved overseas was to stop working in the sex-industry and change my lifestyle and habits. Back then, I gradually became aware that sex work was not good for my well-being. However, back, then, I was very much confused about many things. I did realize I needed to change my habits — I wanted to be less materialistic and more humble. In my early days, I was using escorting to fuel my ego and consumer habits, which was leaving me feeling empty and shallow. But otherwise, my experiences with clients was actually empowering, which I enjoyed.

Anyway, the retail job overseas only lasted a month until I started missing the easy-pace lifestyle of escorting. The money of escorting is addicting, yet one also becomes accustomed to the self-paced lifestyle and admiration from men. But living a double life made escorting hard. In my ‘normal’ job, I was working so hard, but kept reminding myself that a whole week’s worth of wages is something I could make in 1 hour with a client. Why was I slaving myself for petty pay when I could be paid to essentially get pleasure? That’s what I told myself. Indeed there were many clients I encountered who literally paid me to give me pleasure. With clients, there’s the good, and then there is the average. Most of the men are decent looking and polite. Over the last five years I can only recall maybe 2 or 3 clients that were problematic, but nothing life threatening. Again, I am thankful that I haven’t encountered a dangerous client yet, because I know there a predators out there.

Back to my venture overseas. I ended up going back to the industry. I looked at the local papers and saw hundreds of advertising for escorts, brothels, and massage parlors. I was in a country where prostitution was legal. I wasn’t keen on escorting (going to a client’s hotel), so I decided to try a high-end brothel establishment. I called up one that was located in a posh area, and the following Saturday I ended up working. I made a lot of money that night, and ended up working until the early morning. The following shifts followed the same pattern. I felt great again. Whenever I got back to the industry I felt like I was on top of the world, because the money seemed endless and my ego was inflated. A couple months after going back to the industry in this new country I met my boyfriend (fiance).

I remember the night vividly. I wasn’t even supposed to work that night, but I came into work. Before I even got dressed in my lingerie, the receptionist asked me if I wanted to meet a client in the waiting room. She told me that I was exactly his type: busty, exotic and very attractive. So I went to say hi to him in my normal clothes and he was besotted by my presence. He made an expensive 3 hour booking with me. During those hours, I came to realize that he wasn’t looking solely for sex. From the very beginning, I could see he respected me so much, and he only wanted to do whatever I wanted. He told me about his life: he works all the time, Muslim, alone, doesn’t drink, doesn’t go out too much. Yet he was interested in all the things I liked, such as poetry and cultural traditions (we were from similar origins). From the first meeting, I felt very comfortable with him. The fact he wasn’t touching me, or making a grab for my breasts (like most men do) made me feel I could trust him. I was quite horny that night. Since he was exceptionally polite and refraining from touching me, I felt eager to give him my body. He wanted to see my pleasure first, and kissed my whole body, licking between my legs so lovingly. I crossed my limit and kissed him passionately, as I felt he was special. It was a beautiful first impression. He asked for my number. I told him bluntly that I don’t go out with clients outside of work, but I still gave him my number. Many men ask to take me out, and a few times in the past I had gone with them only to regret it later. But for some reason I trusted him.

I told him I was craving a specific ethnic cuisine, so on our first meeting he took me to a beautiful restaurant overlooking the city. He retained his immense hospitality, respect and generousity. He bombarded me with gifts that night. Not only gifts, but he wrote me beautiful poetry. I did not know how to react. He made me feel like a princess, and his gifts were specially tailored to my personality. My mind always assumed anyone giving me something always had a catch. But I could tell his gifts were from his heart and genuine. He said very honestly that he didn’t expect anything in return. He said, “What makes me happy is seeing you smile.” And his words were legitimate. He wasn’t trying to sleep with me. I had already set my mind that I would not have sex with a client for free. If he were to try to touch me or act sexual I would leave immediately. But he treated me with paramount comfort. The fact that he did not touch me or make a move drove my hormones wild. Instead I gave him a small kiss. But the kiss made both of us melt. That one small kiss ended up into us kissing for hours, literally. Even after kissing he still respectfully kept his hands off my body. Again, most men can’t keep their hands off me, so his patience made me more attracted to him. Finally I motioned him to do something (anything) to my deeply aroused body. So he decided we lay in his bed and cuddle. First he started by softly caressing my body, as if I was a Queen Goddess being served by her humble servant. He kissed my entire body for another 2 hours (literally), teasing me respectfully on literally every inch of my body. His touch was pure admiration, because he went very slowly, enjoying each area with detailed care. This is the ultimate teasing, and his touch was a manifestation of his philosophy. As he used to say, “the best things must occur very slowly and with care. There is no true beauty when things are rushed.” This made me even more aroused, yet I let him continue his magic.  Then he kissed my thighs and slowly started to kiss between my extremely aroused pussy. He did it for over an hour, teasing me and breaking my climaxes — he purposely was edging me. I had the most intense orgasm ever, and the whole time he was brimming hard. He loved to drive me crazy, to the point where I’m shaking.

After that, he still continued to amaze me. After I had orgasm, he just laid back and cuddled me. He was brimming hard, so I thought he would have expected something in return, but he didn’t. He was humble and said he enjoyed giving me pleasure. That made me want to give him pleasure too. So of course, we had to make love. I adore reciprocating pleasure to very talented lovers.

After that first date, I thought of him as a great person and new friend. But, ironically, I did not want to date him and didn’t even think about it. We continued seeing each other and he eventually asked me, “So, are you my girlfriend?” I wasn’t sure what to say because I had not even considered it. I said yes…hesitantly.  We stayed together from then on and he continued to give me the best orgasms every day of our relationship. My ex loved to give me pleasure, whether it was in sex or cooking for me, or writing love poems. 2.5  years later we moved across the world together, got engaged, and then turmoil began. Now, we are living on opposite sides of the world. I left him. I wanted to leave him many times, despite loving him. I realize, now, how accustom I am to my escorting job. I thought I wanted to leave escorting for the ‘perfect’ man, yet I realized (at that moment) that I preferred taking care of myself and having my own autonomy.

And now I love him. And now I need him. But in my own selfishness, I chose my independence over him. In particular, I chose escorting over him. Isn’t it ironic, now, that I have all that I want, and yet I’m unhappy.

I think I see the reality now: a life pursuing only money is worthless.


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