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prettydysfunctional

The chaotic ramblings of a retired adult industry entertainer.

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daily prompt

Worm

One of the most common questions I get asked at work is “how do I keep my wife/husband from finding out about this bank account?”  Seriously.  It comes up all the time.

You know who visits escorts the very most?  Married men.  Not military guys.  Not widowers.  Not young or inexperienced dudes.  Ninety-plus percent of the time it is married men.  The majority of them who claim to be there because their wives recently had babies…and now they don’t want to fuck often enough.

Just some stuff that I notice and think about when I see my social media friends doing the marriage thing.  Many, for the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th time…

For some reason, I’m just not at all interested in getting married.

 

 

 

 

 

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/age/">Age</a>

Four

Tomorrow my son turns four years old.

At the time of his conception, I was living in a hostel (flophouse would be more accurate) in East Los Angeles.  Overwrought with grief.  I had basically settled into there with the intention of dying.

I was doing enough modeling and adult work to keep me housed and fed.  Went out dancing a lot.  Slept around.  Did far too much partying.  Fortunately, I never overdosed or developed a dependency.  Lord knows I deserved both.

It was a very bleak pregnancy.  And I can’t say that mothering him alone has been any easier.  Being a single mom is stressful, exhausting, and isolating.

My son saved my life.  Gave me a purpose that I never thought I’d have again.  Started my 30’s off on a preferable path.

The kid is intelligent and full of talents.  He is the very definition of an extrovert.  A little entertainer and everyone is his friend.  Can’t wait to see what the future holds for him.

Just praying that I can be the kind of mom he deserves.

Happy birthday to my little Sagittarius.  I love that little punk to pieces.

 

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/underdog/">Underdog</a>

Pause

Dancing is one of my most beloved things to do.  My preference is goth or industrial clubs.  I delight in dressing up, hitting the dance floor, and letting the music move me for hours.  No alcohol needed.  90% of the time I go alone.  Many nights I don’t speak to a single person.  Just slink in, dance, and exit once I’ve exhausted myself.  The dance floor is my happy place.

Recently I went to the Zelda symphony.  It was one of the most amazing experiences that I’ve ever had.  I’m not a gamer, but Zelda holds a very special place in my heart.  Some of my very first memories are of playing the original Zelda game.  I credit that game for developing my creativity and shaping my imagination.  The music was incredible.  Combined with the visuals and stories from Zelda…it all made for an unforgettable event.

 

Just wanted to take a break from gripping about the sex industry and how it’s impacted my life.  So there’s a little bit about me. 🙂

 

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/dancing/">Dancing</a>

Affectionate

I’ve been casually texting back and forth with some dude from the internet.  We haven’t met in person yet, and this is very new.  Tonight I see a message from him that says:

“Are you affectionate?”

My reply: “Gonna have to be more specific.”

Him: “If we were together and I couldn’t keep my hands and lips off you, would that be a problem for you?  Would you feel the need to reciprocate?”

There were 100 different ways I wanted to reply in a way that would be the equivalent of “you’re an idiot” or “go fuck yourself”.  But I couldn’t even bring myself to reply.  I’m just too over it.

Unfortunately, this is not an uncommon question for guys to ask (please don’t ever ask a woman that). So here are my words of wisdom to the menfolk.

Any woman can and will be “affectionate”.  But not if you work her nerves before you’ve even met in person.  Not if you’re going to kill a good conversation by trying to start a stupid sex talk through text.

I’m sure he’ll write me off as a “bitch” or a “prude” like all the internet morons do when I don’t entertain their nonsense.  Little do they know the kind of “porn star” sex that they could have had if they had just put on some patient pants and done some proper courting first.

 

Women are different than men when it comes to sex.  This is not fresh information.  I feel like the topic has been beaten to death.  Yet, clearly many aren’t grasping it.

If you want an “affectionate” woman and the benefits (good sex) that accompany that…then you’re gonna have to put in some work.  You know, treat her like a person first and all of that.

Otherwise, it’s going to continue to be a lot of rejection and mediocre one night stands for you.

 

 

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/loyal/">Loyal</a>

Instinct

Portion

So a little follow-up story to mister “send me a picture of your feet”.

Out of nowhere, he sends me an email with a picture of his dick (of course).  There was a message included about not letting me get away that easily.  I told him that it was crass and that I’m not interested.

That’s when I received back an email full of insults.  Everything from being ugly to a catfish to saying that I’m going to die alone.

The worst part is, that it’s not even surprising.  Happens all the time.

So I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and no, I don’t think porn made me jaded.  I don’t think that requesting a picture of someone’s feet right off the bat is an awkward way of flirting or whatever.  Nobody who legitimately wants to get to know me would be requesting any such thing.

Instead of the predictable “more pics!” requests, why don’t men ever want to know what I like to read?  How I like to spend my free time?  Favorite color.  Something.

No means no.

It doesn’t mean push harder, or badger, or attempt to argue your way into getting what you want out of a girl.  And it’s pathetic that the standard is to then turn around and verbally assault a lady because she had the audacity to tell you no.

Yes, I would rather be alone than be treated like crud by one of these bossy morons.

I guess that could mean that I’m jaded.  I prefer to think of it as just having some self-respect.

*shrug*

 

 

Maybe I’m just mean

Detonate

The story of my life.  Had been texting a bit with someone new for about a day.  He’s decent looking.  Seems nice.  Easy enough to talk to.

We’re a whopping 30 messages in overall when it starts.

“Send me a picture of your feet”.

I made it clear that I wasn’t going to do that.  He told me that it was a simple request and that we should start learning to please each other now.  I blocked him.

Every.flipping.time.

Where are the boundaries?!?  I talk to a LOT of guys.  And usually, it ends after about 10 messages because at that point they are already starting to make demands.

“Send me more pics”, “let’s facetime”, “drop everything and meet me at a bar right now”. Or God forbid I go and pee without my phone.  I always come back to the “did I scare you off?” I swear nothing turns me off faster than that last one.

Whatever happened to conversations?  Getting to know somebody?  Taking a minute to pursue them if you’re sincerely interested?

Am I expecting too much?  Am I just a bitch?  Did all the negative porn experiences make me too sensitive?

I have no idea.  And frankly, I’m not sure I care.

I’m at the point where I would rather die alone than put up with any of these weenies on a regular basis anyway.

My Granny has been single by choice for over 30 years now.  I used to think it was odd.

Now…I think it’s brilliant.

 

I have to

Survive

I saw this prompt this morning and thought that I would go to town with writing.  Now it’s the end of a long, exhausting day…and all I have going on is some insomnia and a case of writer’s block.

I miss my children.  I’ve cried so hard that I thought I would break.  I’ve wanted to die so badly that it hurt.

But (unfortunately for me), I have to keep going.

Otherwise, they’ll have no other options than to believe the lies that they’ve been told about me.

If I kill myself, I become the “crazy” that they grow up being told that I am.

So here I am.  Living.  Pursuing.  Succeeding.  Kicking life right in the ass.

Folks could say a lot of things about me.  But I’m not crazy, and I’m not a failure.

So every day I endure.  Because I have to.

Not for me.  For them.

 

 

 

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