Sex sweat equity

Like many other horny young women who grow up in Vegas, I’ve, at several points throughout my life, had the idea that sex work might be a great career to pursue. Like, wow I get to take my clothes off, get dicked down, AND make a bunch of money?

Reader, sex work did not feel like getting off and having the money rain down. It felt like work. The sort of johns I could attract weren’t ugly or anything, but, to put it bluntly, I definitely wanted money in exchange for touching them. Once I started having sex for money, it felt like my shifts at Halal Guys. I’d pour in my time and my sweat, and these customers would get what they wanted. In the end, I was always left feeling like a hollow husk. Blowjobs were truly like any other job.

Here’s everything that sucks about prostitutin’:

1. It’s, like, actually a lot of administrative work.
2. You have to explore  a lot of internet forums and backpages to find work.
3. Certain advertising forums require you to verify your identity, which requires photo identification and a webcam shot to prove you’re the real deal.
4. Screening clients to make sure they’ll pay up + not kill you requires you to have the right combination of internet savvy and emotional intuition.
5. Even if you’re a total sex pig, the sex isn’t always fun.
6. Sometimes clients, like, stink.
7. Commuting. (I’m a remote work-from-homer for a reason!)

And  those are just the low-lights. Really, I hate all work, though, not just sex work. This may be surprising, coming from a Capricorn rising, Virgo sun, but I hate doing things I don’t want to do, even if it’s for money which can be exchanged for goods and services I DO want. I’ve flunked out of college and burned out at every random job I’ve had because they’re so boring and pointless it hurts my body. Plus, giving 8 hours a day to ensure a millionaire becomes a billionaire does not sit right with my soul.

My trick as a severe Earth sign is that I love working if it feels like playing around.. Nowadays I make money a few ways: Editing podcasts, which feels like I’m playing tetris with the audio files and writing a collaged found-word poem. Writing, which is just a combination of reading (which is fun), gossiping, and remembering everything I’ve read/everything someone has told me. I can trick my body into working if it’s a little game for myself. I’m a silly hedonist to a fault.

Recently, I helped my friend move, and even though it forced me to do hard labor for 12 hours, I had a lot of fun. Lifting heavy objects, puzzling things together into the back of a U-Haul, and trying to lift couches and desks up three flights of stairs with my friends hardly felt like work. It was like we were in a game of Physical:100 or Survivor or something. Plus it wasn’t useless like doing busy work in school, or unfolding and refolding perfectly fine stacks of clothing at Tommy Hilfiger. We were securing my best friends’ new home! This would directly and immediately benefit someone I care about!

I was  surprised by how much energy I had and by my ability to lift heavy boxes and climb dozens of flights of stairs over the course of the day. I’ve never been athletic or really drawn to physical activity at all. I like reading books and playing video games. Sure, I briefly went through a jogging phase when I was 17-20 years old and have on-and-off committed to (and fallen off of) a daily yoga practice over the last decade, but that hardly qualifies as jock behavior.

I realized that most work can be fun under the right circumstances. And even when it isn’t fun, I’m able to commit myself to it without much resistance if I know it’s going to benefit my community - my friends, family, even strangers who fall under this big vague umbrella of “people of color” and “queers”. I’m a commie through and through!

While my friends and I heaved-and-ho’ed and counted our timing to make sure we could lift and push a heavy ass couch up a steep flight of stairs, I wondered why I could do this grueling work and have fun, but not keep a job as a retail worker, line cook, janitor, or desk monkey. Then, I had a realization. I can keep a job if it’s at least kinda fun. And then, lightbulb: Good sex is a combination of work and play, too! Duh!

During sex, all present parties have to kind of be invested in the others’ enjoyment. It’s no fun to be the only barista pulling their weight during rush hour at a cafe, it’s not fun to be the only one trying in a pick up game of soccer. And fucking’s only fun if everyone’s on the same page! Put in the effort and at least try to make the other person feel good. Sex is fun, you guys, it feels good. Buuuut sometimes you’re only 80% in the mood to do something, or maybe you wanted to stop sucking 2 minutes ago, or maybe you were kind of done with the thrusting a couple of pumps back. And like, listen, consent is an emphatic yes, I know, but sometimes you’re like yes to sex but “eh” on oral. Or you’re like “let’s do a little impact play but only for a little bit because my arm is tired.” And like, “yes I want to cum but I also want the other parties to cum so I’m going to see what the optimal way to play with their junk is.” You can’t just like, lay there (unless you’re playing out a sleep-fuck kink or something, in which case it probably requires work to stay as still as possible). My point is that if everyone’s willing to put in a little sweat equity, then everyone can have as much fun as possible.

This, along with a multitude of other reasons, was why I was not a good sex worker. For a while, being handed a wad of cash felt like enough to even out the scales in terms of sex sweat equity. But eventually I was like, hey, a couple of 20s is not worth how long I have to put up with this dick (literally). I really couldn’t do any job that I didn’t like, no matter how high the pay was. If I could, I probably would have tried to be an electrician or a lawyer. No, instead, I became a weird creative slut for money.

This is my case for communism, in the bedroom and outside of it. If we all put in a little extra work then everyone can have an orgasm. And better infrastructure. Maybe a high speed interstate railroad.