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Monthly Archives: June 2013

The post where I tell you how I wank

As I prepare to go in a new direction (re finding/vetting clients) in this journey of mine, (and yes it is my journey, the only thing I have that is created by me, for me) it is time for some reflections. -Nah, screw it; let’s cut the excuses; I want to tell you how I masturbate. Just because. Because it turns me on; and that has always been reason enough for me to do anything.

I do it with gloves. You know those rubbery, slightly rough gardening gloves? Yeah, I do it with those. I’ve tried it with washing-up gloves – I prefer them pink – but they aren’t textured enough to produce enough sensation.

I get my gloves from Poundstretcher’s. I walk around looking at the gloves, and then I rub them lightly on my face to test the texture. My face is much more sensitive than my fingertips to texture. Some gloves are too harsh and some too smooth. (Though I had this great pair of smooth red gloves back in 2011; I think they worked because they were thick. They were a ride and a half, and I kept them for 2 or 3 months until my OCD-like tendencies got the better of me – no matter how much I wash my gloves, I can’t keep them for long without feeling like they’re dirty.) Then, after a while, I’ll buy the gloves. The pair I have now are purple. I’ve also tried wanking with face cloths of a texture that’s neither too smooth or too rough, but they’re just an emergency measure for when I’ve thrown out gloves without having bought a new pair. Back in ’10 I had a fab green pair, and I ‘used up’ one and threw it out before cutting the fingers off the other one and just wearing each finger as a sort of finger-cover. So the glove lasted much longer than usual. Not all gloves can fit snugly on your finger like that, not slipping but remaining faithfully bound to your skin as you bend, flick and manoeuvre. The green gloves had that. I bought them 3 times. I prefer gloves to be pink because that way I can pretend it’s, well, a cock. Or a finger.

When I wank, I do it on all fours. Roland once filmed me doing it. I once did lie on my back and do it, and it was successful; I used cream and a rough towel that time. But usually I get into the same position I’ve used since I was nine, my head resting on the bed. After a while I’ll let my thighs sink onto my calves. Wjen I was nine I didn’t masturbate; what I did was rub and stroke my bottom as I fantasised about boys being spanked, burned with fire, burnt with hot iron, caned, whipped, forced to wear nappies or girls’ pants. They were put in prams and dressed like babies. They were dressed as girls, or tortured by the cruel Authority and its Wardens. They were put in spanking machines or had hot forks stuck into their dicks and twisted in front of crowds. They wet and pooed their pants in public and were spanked for it. They were put in spanking machines and torture machines.

These days, my boys (aged 15-25 instead of 9-17 like when I was nine) also get publically gang-raped and filmed, given enemas and sodomised with all kinds of stuff. I’m a bit artistically inclined and created this blog’s logo and my ‘K’ Twitter avi. So it follows that I’m creative with my boys.

I do have girls. It started at nine but I quickly lost interest in my mousy-haired Alice’s spankings. At 17, though, Alice returned as the 14-year-old sister of my oft-spanked 18-year-old Alex and later on the redheaded 16-year-old  American Jilly moved in. Her devious friend, the black-haired Nadine, turned up later. So did Chastity White, unwilling heroine of The Seven Days, my fantasy based on The Ring movie. Roland is the hero of that fantasy (and subsequently the name given to my original client). If any of you ever leafed through my 5 notebooks in which all my wanking writing is kept, you’d be amazed that it took me until Lynne to figure out I am a bit bi. (Though I did wonder about it last year and I have said I’m not totally straight.) I  thought that what I was doing was roleplaying that I as one of these girls, though God knows how I justified all the F/F spanking scenes. (My favourite pairing is M/M, then F/M).

I’ve never allowed myself to orgasm, or should I say to complete an orgasm. I get to the stage where it’s like there’s electricity rippling through me and the contractions become powerful, then I stop. This keeps me in a near-constant state of sexual frustration, which focuses my mind. I was originally saving it for my first time and I must shamefully admit that I felt that it wasn’t ‘real’ masturbation if I didn’t orgasm. I did feel guilty about wanking when I started aged 19, whacking myself off to a fantasy of committing murder. I must also admit that I never wanked over She Who I Loved, i.e. Lynne, because it was disrespectful…despite the number of pics of her that must be available via Google Images. Well, I couldn’t even stalk her online or search for pics, so it’s no wonder I couldn’t flick myself off to her photos. Who I have wanked to include a neighbour, a school friend and, at age 13, a fantasy (though I didn’t masturbate then) of a female pupil who I despised.

It’s been incredibly freeing to sit at a bus stop or in a cafe and allow myself to think ‘that girl is hot’ instead of pulling back the thought as I used to BL (Before Lynne). I allow myself these thoughts now because I understand that I can’t deny who I am, and my bisexuality can’t be suppressed; I spent so long denying it only to have it revenge itself on me by condemning me to have serious (non lust-based) feelings for Lynne, instead of someone who’d be receptive and who I could have fun sexytimes with. Back when I stopped pulling the thoughts, I still fancied Lynne and believed she was probably ignoring me (which she may or may not have been – it’s hard to tell, because I avoided her for a while). So I thought that if I’m in love (which I believed I was) with someone who is very annoyed about it, why not allow myself to have much healthier, lustful thoughts that make me happy instead of sad? The Lynne thing also taught me the futility of ignoring my bisexual thoughts. They’ll come and get you in the end.

Re her, I’ve looked into blocking all IP addresses from her region but you can only do that with countries, so I’m stuck. I can’t figure out all this PHP stuff anyway. And I’d really only block her from seeing the Lynne Post and not the entire blog, because she’ll probably figure out it’s her if she reads it. I’m just worried she’ll be annoyed that I’ve written about her without her permission, especially since I’m writing about something which pissed her off so much. Though it’s not like she hasn’t done the same thing. I don’t want her to know my private thoughts about her, though granted they were Disney-esque and Puritan in the extreme (except that I would’ve wanted her to spank me).

I love wanking to comics, cartoons and anime art of boys getting spanked or crying after a spanking. Ditto pissing or shitting themselves. Girls also work for me, too. I had a flash drive with 6 massive Word files of all these pics and I used to have loads of such files on my old laptop so I could scroll down while I was having a wank. Once, I left my flash drive at the uni library and someone found it, located my CV to find out who I was and texted me that she’d handed it in to Lost Property. I’ll always wonder if she found the porn. It was a good thing that happened, or I might keep my CV and backups of this blog and individual blog posts on the same flash drive now. I think if you’re a sex blogger or blog about sex work, it’s safer to have two flash drives for your different identities. Or your normal and secret life, whichever you’d choose to call it. My laptop has all my stuff, so I password-protect some files in case it gets stolen. Lochlan’s laptop got stolen. I’ll wipe the hard drive if I ever sell it (which I won’t; it wasn’t a very expensive one, so it wouldn’t fetch much).

I’ve also wanked to porn videos of people shitting or peeing themselves, but never to bloodplay, knifeplay, torture or scat/watersports videos. That’s a bitty too far for me. I am an innocent young virgin, remember?

 

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Non lust based crushes: degrading and not cost-effective

I was meant to be writing a post about wanking, but I find myself constantly exulting in the wonderful freedom from thoughts of Lynne, the blogger I had a crush on three months ago who I previously blogged about in the Lynne Blog.

Because Roland went AWOL, my journey was prolonged by months and I’ve done stuff I never thought I would do – blogging about sex workers’ rights, having a one night stand sexytime, the petition, and other stuff. I’ve met people – both online and  in real life- who I never thought I would. I have known something I thought I never would; if I don’t know what love is, then at least I know what more-than-lust is. I’ve known the pain of pseudo-loving someone I’ll never have. It was like a cage. The destroyer of all freedom, more degrading than anything; a debasement of my most precious and most private part, which is my mind.

And it is degrading and debasing to that public part of me: my vagina. The toxic cocktail of chemicals being fired off from my libido which concentrated my thoughts on Lynne when there is a world of worthy dick out there – it betrayed my body. It denied satisfaction and pleasure to the organ naturally designated to crave and find pleasure. I was born for sex, like all humans. Therefore, a blend of chemicals instructing the genitals to go out into the world, find another set which interlock, and conquer all such mates in the vicinity would be the blend that glorifies the temple of the body. That fixation on one person – Lynne- cannot be healthy or dignified (though thankfully I was never reduced to thoughts of monogamy). That, at least, I can say.

Let me expand on that: we eat food to get nutrients which we convert into energy to fuel our brains and bodies. So, energy is required to power the libido (fancy someone) and power cognitive functions (the decision to approach them). But my thoughts of Lynne were more numerous than would be necessary to incite me to pursue her. Therefore, they were a waste of energy, especially since I thought about her for a while before Alexis and Rachel suggested that I flirt with her. My thoughts therefore were not useful as a catalyst for me to act on my thoughts; Alexis and Rachel’s cognitive functions and successful communications to me were the catalyst. And all the energy spent thinking about Lynne could’ve been better spent on thoughts of several people, which could potentially have resulted in sexytimes with a few of them. Thinking solely of Lynne could only ever have resulted in sexytime with one person (unless Lynne has Multiple Personality Disorder or is possessed). Finally, thinking about other people could have been fun, but my thoughts of Lynne didn’t bring me pleasure because I wouldn’t allow myself to fantasise about her, as I felt it was disrespectful. I just thought about how well she writes and how it would feel to run my fingers through her hair (which I imagined would be kind of soft.) So it’s obvious that anything more than lust is not cost-effective in terms of biological economics.

I still like her, but not like that; I don’t think I fancy her any more. It’s kind of hard to tell because I’m worried that if I declare myself free of her, it’ll all come back like the other 2 or 3 times. I’d like to say that if I had a time machine, I’d go back and change things. But I wouldn’t. It was an interesting experience, after all. And if we could shield ourselves from sadness, hurt and confusion, how would we know when we were happy, loved and confident?

It was my own fault really; not content with a prolonged flirtation, I acted to force a tweet from her from which I could easily tell ‘yes’ or ‘no’ from – and which I knew might possibly make her suspect what I was doing. In this, I was absolutely successful in getting an answer; so what am I doing whining just because it’s the one I didn’t hope for? While I was surprised she worked out what I was doing, now that I think about it, I intentionally made her at least suspect. (I’ve never been very patient and getting a quick yes/no seemed the least time-consuming way to go about it). When I think back, I wasn’t surprised that she’d found out I fancied her. I only felt surprised about it when I realised she was pissed off. Maybe my subconcious was protecting me from the realisation that I’d engineered my own failure by making me think that I had nothing to do with Lynne finding out.

I kinda miss being ‘in love’ with her, because now she appears much more normal and boring. Still an analytical and amazing writer, though. Not that I’d tell her; it’d just go to her head.

How wonderful it is to be free of her! To think about selling virginity and wanking instead of not allowing myself to fantasise about her because it’s disrespectful, so I’d have pathetically Puritan thoughts of her instead. (Ooh look, WordPress’ spellcheck system doesn’t recognise “wanking”. Or “WordPress”. Or “spellcheck.”)

Speaking of writers, I think now would be a good time to deploy a phrase in Alan Warner’s book ‘Morvern Callar’: “And now, to work!” (on the wanking post).

 

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Why sex worker activists should support the decriminalisation of street work

First published on Harlot’s Parlour.

(I’m not a sex worker activist and though I’ve been planning this post for months, I wasn’t sure if I should write it; if I’m not a sex worker activist, or even a representative sex worker, then how can I tell sex worker activists what to think? But after a  brief conversation on Twitter, I decided to finally post this. – K )

If you’re for sex workers’ rights then you have to be for street sex workers’ rights too. Otherwise you’re not standing for ALL sex workers. If you think that your brand of sex work, whatever it is, should be decriminalised and that you deserve rights but that street sex work should remain criminalised, then that’s elitism. You’re saying that you’re “better” than street workers, or that you’re different to them in a way that you aren’t different to other sex workers who work in different areas of the industry but not on the street.

And if you take the view that street sex work is dangerous and therefore should be criminalised – well. Doesn’t that sound familiar? It’s the antis’ argument against the entire sex industry (including the adult entertainment industry). So, basically, you’re an anti – just an anti who wants non-street work decriminalised but is still for the abolition of street work.

Finally, if you believed that street sex workers have agency and can choose to work, how could you deny them human and labour rights? So it’s clear that to be in support of criminalising street sex work, you have to see street workers as having no agency or in need of “rescuing” by sex worker activists. Again, this might sound all too familiar.

And let’s be practical – criminalising street sex work in the UK has been proven to create what academics call the “revolving door” effect: street workers are fined for soliciting and then have to do more sex work to pay off the fine. While working to pay off the fine, they’re arrested again and hit with another fine, and so on. Which actually stops them from “exiting” street work (oh, how I hate that phrase – for all other jobs we say “finding another job”.) So, if you’re eager to rescue street workers, criminalisation actually works against your objectives. Not to mention the fact that a woman or man with several soliciting offences on their criminal record is not going to find it easy to get employment in another industry.

The Merseyside model includes exiting strategies and only uses arrest as a last resort, though unfortunately the use of exiting strategies instead of fines is, in my view, just as intrusive and is also a harassment – not to mention insulting as it implies that street work is unacceptable and that the worker doesn’t have agency. (That’s the one bit of the Merseyside model that I would wish to see changed. I mean, if they’re so obsessed with rescuing, why not rescue street workers into another type of sex work, like indoor work or, if they fit agencies’ preferences (or there are ‘specialising’ agencies nearby), agency work?)) Not that I’m for rescuing anybody anywhere; it’s just an interesting question why the police feel that the entire sex industry is exploitative but other industries are totally fine.

The fact that street sex work is criminalised might be making it more dangerous. Since clients were criminalised for kerb-crawling, maybe the law looks more equal, but it might be having the effect of weeding out the clients who don’t want a criminal record, leaving only those who might already be known to the police. How are the workers and clients supposed to report any violence they witness or experience if they know they’ll get a court appearance and a criminal record? The clients know that the workers might not report violence so they might not be deterred by the possibility of police action. (This could also be true of the sex workers, who might be more prepared to perpetrate crimes against clients because they know the clients won’t report it.) I’m not just talking about violence here, but blackmail or theft as well.

Therefore, the more dangerous you think street sex work is, the more you should be in support of decriminalising it. While there is some evidence (in the Home Office report referred to below) that criminalising clients forces street workers to work indoors in relative safety, that was a small-scale study and it’s obvious that there are still street workers even though street work is criminalised in the UK.

References:

R. Matthews (1986) “Beyond Wolfenden? Prostitution, Politics and the Law” in R. Matthews and J. Young (eds) Confronting Crime, London: Sage

R. Matthews (2008) “Prostitution, vulnerability and victimisation” in Prostitution, Politics and Policy, Abingdon: Routledge-Cavendish

The Scottish Executive (2004) Being Outside: A Response to Street Prostitution (about exiting strategies and small red light zones in non-residential areas of cities. Proves that there’s only about 2,000 sex workers in all of Scotland who street walk OR work out of flats – meaning that less than 2,000 are street workers, as the number includes independent indoor workers.  Available at:http://www.scotland.gov.uk/Resource/Doc/30859/0024989.pdf)

J. Phoenix (2000) “Prostitute Identities: Men, Money and Violence” British Journal of Criminology 40 (1) 37-55  (There is violence, but it’s not as bad as some NGO’s make it seem, and it’s hard to see how criminalization would enable these sex workers to report violence to the police or leave violent boyfriends. Oh, and non-sexworkers also experience domestic abuse, even rape.)

R. Matthews (1993) Kerb-Crawling, Prostitution and Multi-Agency Policing”, Police Research Group Paper 43, London: Home Office

 
1 Comment

Posted by on June 18, 2013 in Sex work

 

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All My Loves (5) The Lynne Blog: Personal Designs

Finally – the Lynne blog. It is here. Delayed multiple times and delayed again because of the Rhoda Grant debate. I was originally going to make it password-protected so Lynne can’t see it, but I suspect that rumour might actually make her think it’s worse than it is. And password protection isn’t foolproof; anyone with the password could send her screenshots or show it to her in real life – something which might be possible, given the number of people I’d have to mass-DM or mass-email the password to. The other thing I was thinking of is asking people not to RT it in case she’s following them, but I don’t believe in such half-measures or requests to control others’ freedom of expression. I’m not sure if I agree with people like Slutocrat who’re all, ‘If you want anonymity or protection then don’t put it on the internet’ because I don’t see the internet as a contract where you agree to risk by engaging with it. But I do think that in this situation I’ve no right to ask for any special consideration, and neither would a half-arsed security measure like that protect me from Lynne reading my blog if she wants to. (Lynne isn’t her real name, of course – apart from protecting her privacy, a pseudonym is definetly needed for this post as it’s bound to be biased. I do not believe that anyone could write about this sort of thing without bias.)

So, what I’ll do is I’ll keep it vague so she won’t be sure it’s her. I know the juicy, juicy details are what you all love – and, in this instance, they’re hilarious. I think she’ll be pissed off if she figures out it’s her, though Leanne doesn’t think so. However, I guess that the worst thing that can happen is a) she blocks me on Twitter or b) gives me a restraining order. I’ve never had a restraining order before so I think it would be interesting to have one.But I do know that she isn’t going to engage in petty or dangerous forms of revenge like trolling or outing me, so the risk to me is low. (It’s good to be my old calculating self again.)

Anyway, why am I writing this if it entails some form of risk and no reward? It’s because I promised to write the truth. What I’m about to write is a portrayal of myself at my weakest, my most whimsical, and my most contemptible. I’m not in control of my emotions and am driven not by riding the waves of wild impulses – as I usually am – but by skewed and base feelings. I regret nothing, of course – I never regret anything I do, and anyway it would’ve happened some day. But I am ashamed of my depth of feeling.

It was the middle of the night in March that I first told someone I fancied Lynne.  – The 13th, according to my handwritten diary:

“[Alexis] is such a reasonable person and I’d screw her given half a chance, though I don’t fancy her at all. I have though told her that I have a crush on Lynne [weirdly enough, it’s actually written as “Lynne” in my diary!] and that it’s much stronger than any crush I’ve had on boys, which is weird. [Alexis] says to find out if Lynne is mono […]I dunno why I’m even attracted to her – I mean yeah she’s pretty but then I’m prettier (I think) and so are lots of other people […] it’s her writing and who she is that I love. […] [Alexis] doesn’t think my feelings are silly even though there’s like a […] year age gap (I mean she’s older than me, not that I’m a paedophile).”

It was Lynne’s politics and writing – on multiple subjects – that made me fancy her. I guess that’s why she’s the only non-lust-based crush I’ve ever had in my life. But only lust is pure. Anything deeper pollutes the soul and stains you; anything deeper is an affront to your dignity and a perversion of your identity. I knew that, but romance was tempting, and I was weak.

Alexis actually had to prise the identity of the mystery person out of me, for two hours. She kept guessing – everybody from Maggie McNeill to Jemima, before concluding “Well I don’t know who it is – not unless you’ve got a crush on Stella Marr!” and we laughed like loons. I eventually admitted that she’d already guessed correctly, and she started guessing again. “I’m sticking with [Lynne],” she said. “I want the truth about [Lynne].”. I kind of wanted to tell someone, actually – another weakness of mine – so after a decent show of evasion, I admitted it.

Alexis almost seemed to feel sorry for me that I believed my feelings to be destructive and wrong. “I don’t see why you’re so embarrassed about it. It’s normal,” she kept saying. Instead of telling me how to stop thinking of Lynne – I resented the power she had over me without even trying or knowing – Alexis brought me round to the idea that it was okay. The idea that it wasn’t a bad thing was not an idea that I had hitherto entertained. I pointed out that Lynne wasn’t single and Alexis countered that she might not be monogamous. I pretty much think that my fate was sealed. Alexis’ idea was to see if there’s reciprocity but not to let Lynne know I fancy her. “Just act flirty,” she said. I wasn’t looking forward to this because the boys at my uni are THE WORST for picking up when a girl is flirting with them. I hit on Jay for months and emailed my BDSM porn fiction to him and he still didn’t get it until I told him directly on Skype. By then, he was seeing someone – a medical student at our university, I believe. “But I don’t think there’s much chance of anything happening, because of who she is,” Alexis added. I wrote in my diary “But now that I think about it, her [partner] is probably nobody special either. And she’s a very down to earth sort of person, not all snobby and glamorous like you’d expect. Nobody is the way they are portrayed”.

The next day I told someone else on Twitter. This was a risk – Lynne wouldn’t have believed Alexis over me if Alexis had gone to her with it. But Rachel would’ve been believed. Rachel shared Alexis’ view that this was perfectly normal and told me Lynne wasn’t mono – a piece of info which I believe made all the following events inevitable. Rachel also said that there’s no point trying not to think about it and the best thing to do is see if she feels the same way, but not tell her how I feel. Rachel also listed out everyone on Twitter she had a crush on, which is loads. “For some of them, I dunno if I’d even want to snog them in real life,” she DM’d. “For others I’d do top BDSM but I can’t imagine doing much more with a woman.” Neither can I -though I have no preference re top or bottom for BDSM, and even with boys BDSM is my first preference. The only time I did anal it hurt.

I knew I’d have to act quickly, because thinking about her was incredibly annoying to me. It was being dominated by another person, dominated mentally – the worst way possible. The fact that Lynne was able to wield such power over me, not only remotely but also without even trying, terrified me. Like Basil Hallward in ‘The Portrait of Dorian Gray’, I delighted in tweeting stuff about Lynne (using the name “Lynne”) that were exaggerations of how I felt. Just for kicks.

My personality is the thing that matters most to me and I felt that my identity was under threat from these uncontrollable emotions and constant intrusions. Blogging what I do, I sometimes feel like I blog under her shadow, that what I write is compared to hers and will never measure up in terms of success (which is mostly the fault of my friends making references or jokes). This tension over my blog’s originality and how I got the idea to blog was hardly conducive to making me indifferent or welcoming to Lynne’s intrusion into my brain as well as my blogging. I was determined to get her out of my mind. Yet, at the same time, Rachel and Alexis’ advice made sense – if I’m condemned by my libido to fancy Lynne- of all people- then why not get something good out of it?

This is where it gets hilarious – it’s almost like I was being set up to fail. You see, I’m used to getting whoever I want online. I found Kane by trawling a BDSM site and sent him a message because he seemed well educated and was poly. I also had others – American Guy, Florida Guy, and that other one who’s name for him I can’t say. Oh, and the Student Guy. And Scientist Guy. The only thing that saved my virginity and enabled this ill-conceived blogging adventure was the distance involved – London, South East England, the USA, and elsewhere.

So I didn’t dream that I wouldn’t succeed with someone who I considered a sort of online ‘friend’ because that’s got to be easier than trawling the net for strangers, right? And doing all the initial message-sending? I mean, right?

You could say I was arrogant. My online successes had been followed by getting spanked by a photographer after knowing him for 45 minutes. You can’t say I don’t work fast. I thought he looked good and I liked him so I started being a bit flirty and 5 minutes later he was spanking me. Maybe I thought I could get whoever I wanted. Especially since Lynne’s seen me in real life and knows I’m pretty (albeit with uncontrollable hair, like Ana in Fifty Shades.)

And as I’ve already mentioned, I was used to boys being thick when it comes to flirting so I wasn’t really expecting anything much different from Lynne.

The most hilarious bit of all is that I never googled Lynne (except in conjunction with her blog’s name because her blog is so hard to get to). I just couldn’t- it felt like invading her privacy. Only I could fall for someone who probably has loads of photos on the web and lots of hits to her name and not take advantage of that! And I couldn’t fantasise about her because, as I said to Alexis and Leanne, it’s disrespectful. They thought it was funny and so do I; I don’t have a problem fantasising about men, though admittedly most of my fantasies are about fictitious people.

I can’t report what exactly happened, in case she reads this. But suffice it to say that she worked out what I was doing after about 2 days and 2 or 3 tweets (1 or 2 during private messaging with her, 1 not) and was really pissed off. As I said to Leanne later, I wonder if she knew almost instantly; she said “sometimes caution is a good thing” or something like that, and added a wink sign. Was that her trying to tell me, or just a typo of a smiley sign? I’ll never know.

Anyway, I was unsure whether she was pissed off because of me flirting with her or because of  what Ruth had tweeted from the No One Unrapable account the previous night. So I asked her and she made it clear it was the flirting thing and said I have “personal designs” on her, which is a lovely quaint way to put it, though it does make me sound a bit predatory. If I’d had the wherewithal to reply, I’d probably have said “I assure you my heart is pure” or whatever  they would’ve said in the 17th century, which is obviously the era Lynne gets her tweeting inspiration from. Not that I’m knocking the period; it’d be so cool if we said “I find you aesthetically pleasing. I have personal designs on you. Let us return to my abode and engage in lewd activities” instead of “You’re stunning. I really like you. Let’s go back to mine and fuck.”

At the time I was pretty shocked and I didn’t see why she couldn’t just say ‘I’m not interested’, which would’ve only taken like a line to type, instead of making a big deal out of it and unfollowing me. I was certain she was about to block me – I mistakenly believed you have to unfollow someone before you block them. I used my last tweets to her to try to get something for the Merseyside petition – I forget the details. I don’t know what that says about me, that I “wasted” what I believed to be my last communication with her.

I said I was sorry at the time – right after she accused me of having personal designs – but I don’t think she really cared. I’ve no idea what she wants from me; I don’t have a time machine.

My reaction was my go-to strategy: denial. (Which kinda negates the apology, I’ll admit.) (I’d set it up so I could easily deny it – I had a feeling she’d be annoyed if she found out how I felt, though Alexis didn’t think she’d be annoyed.) I was sure she was gonna block me, I was scared because this was all new territory and I’d never thought she’d know I was coming on to her, never mind that she’d be annoyed about it. Lynne didn’t believe my denial for a single second, though she chose not to argue the point.

When I told Rachel about Lynne’s initial reaction, she went “Yikes” and I said I didn’t actually feel anything because I hadn’t worked out that she was serious. I went to type “I’m sorry, okay that was inappropriate” and Twitter told me I couldn’t DM because she’d unfollowed (this was from my Rhoda Grant parody account). So I went onto my main account but she’d unfollowed that too (which I really should’ve been expecting – Lynne isn’t stupid). It was only then that I realised it’d backfired spectacularly and I lay still and cast around in my brain for a suitable course of action to present itself. But none was forthcoming, because this had never happened before. I’d have to figure this one out manually. I wanted to retreat, but a dignified retreat was impossible as she’d cut the lines of private communication. I couldn’t just change the subject. (Though maybe whatever I was saying to her about Merseyside was some sort of subconcious attempt at that?)

So I was upset for a while and Rachel helped me a lot, just by listening. I was so pissed after she unfollowed me that I  reckoned I was over her, but then the feelings returned. Twice more I believed I had finally won over my emotions, only to have them return. So I started looking into controlling my emotions by limiting my body’s production of oxytocin and serontonin. I was absolutely determined that this should never happen again as long as I live.

By the way, you should’ve seen me at this time. I wasn’t eating much so I lost weight and looked ABSOLUTELY STUNNING. I’ve since piled it back on. What really got to me was the humiliation of failure and, especially, the fact that she’d worked out what I was doing almost before I’d started – another thing that’d never happened before. Of course, being humiliated by Lynne turned me on a bit – you can’t suppress your libido, after all – but it irritated me, too. Lynne didn’t tell anyone – she’s not that kind of person. Though if she had gone public with it on Twitter, that would’ve been pretty hot. I was kind of worried about her next move and that she might publicise it as a sort of revenge for my ambitiousness; but she’s a calm, measured sort of person.

“Time heals all wounds,” Leanne said; and I’ve found that to be true, but I’m not subjecting myself to that ever again.  My research indicates that it was serotonin and not oxytocin that was responsible. Oxytocin is produced after orgasm and while bonding, but me and Lynne had never bonded in real life.Serotonin, however, controls attraction and is necessary for the production of oxytocin after you’ve shagged them. Unfortunately, cutting down on serotonin would also make me depressed and not alert so it looks like I’m stuck and it might happen again with someone else.

I think what upset me most was that I’d done something to make her uncomfortable. I felt that she’d made a big deal out of it to punish me for my ambitiousness – Alexis’ words about her being out of my league (this isn’t what Alexis said but it’s sort of what she meant, I think) were still with me. And I felt that she didn’t care about how I felt at all because she knew I fancied her so she had all the power; she could do anything to me she liked and I’d still come running back to her. Of course, when I calmed down I realised that Lynne probably didn’t see herself as being in the position of power; for all I know, she was wary of a backlash from me after rejecting and unfollowing me. Maybe that’s why she unfollowed me – not to punish me by cutting me off from her or to send me the message that she was pissed off, but so I couldn’t keep DM’ing her. I’d thought that her experience of social interaction, which is far broader than mine, meant that she knew she had the upper hand. And I believed that it was this experience/abilities which had led her to make a calculated decision to unfollow me as a sort of message to me that she was really pissed.(I have a lot of problems trusting older women due to childhood experiences; I’m fine with men and younger women.)

But you could equally look at it the other way; that because I’m young I’m actually more of a threat because of having less social skills, instead of being at a disadvantage. Like, I could do anything; keep tweeting at her or harassing her, or anything. (But I have way too much pride to do that.)

At the time I thought she hated me but Rachel said she was just setting boundaries. And Lynne does care about me and has helped me in the past and with finding new potential buyers – I wouldn’t want you guys to get the wrong impression of her. She’s one of the few people online who gets me and I feel like I can tell her anything. I certainly don’t regret telling her my identity and I’m sure it’s safer with her than it is with me! (I’m so impulsive).

I thought of deleting this blog and Twitter because everything was going wrong – Roland was AWOL, I didn’t have any potential buyers, the controversy over Ruth’s tweets was at its height that day and now Lynne. I regarded selling virginity and bloggng as a failed experiment; I would go back to my normal life and resume it; forget about all this. I just didn’t want to interact with Lynne ever again at that point. It was No One Unrapable that kept me around. Having taken sole control of the account the previous night after the controversy, I had a responsibility. And if I was going to be tweeting from that account, why not keep my personal Twitter? I decided to delete this blog after the petition closed. Of course I calmed down soon after that and realised that deleting the blog or simply not logging into Twitter again wouldn’t solve my problem, which was basically that I believed myself to be in love – or close to it – with someone who was utterly repelled by the thought of any kind of sexytime- no matter how casual, I guess- with me. But what I was most upset about was how easily and coldly she’d unfollowed me.

Aaaaaand…like all good news articles, the reactions from around the world:

Lochlan said I was “unprofessional” and Lynne was annoyed because she might get objectified by people sometimes so I should apologise and “reconcile with her”. [Which was my view too, but by that time a lot of time had gone by so it was kinda too late to apologise.- what if Lynne’s totally forgot about it? And anyway I did apologise at the time].

Leanne said I wasn’t in love with her (as I’d increasingly worried I was, and wondered if it’s possible to be in love without having had sexytime). She said that nothing about this incident surprised her at all because she thinks that very few people are completely straight or gay – a view similar to Kane’s. She thinks that Lynne overreacted.

Kathryn said I should be honest with Lynne, find her on Facebook and message her that I like her, if she’s still annoyed then “she’s not even worth knowing”. [I said I couldn’t see Lynne having Facebook unless it’s private].

Alexis said she was “being ridiculous” and joked “I think she’s jealous, she’s jealous that you might have a crush on me” but also that “maybe she’s been stalked before and it might have made her more anxious about something like this”.

Lynne’s name is more of a code word than a pseudonym; like much of my code, it’s based on meanings and phonetics (related to her real first name), and nobody is going to get it.

It was really confusing for me, as I told Leanne on Facebook: “Re: [Lynne] it was…complex. I dunno why it’s so confusing for me because it must happen to lots of other people too. I think it’s explaining it all at once that’s hard; I’ll copy/paste from another convo (cos that took place over weeks so I could say it then). [..] Well she found out, I don’t know how […] So I was really pissed off and sad but then I figured, that’s life, and it’s going to happen to me lots more times in my life as I’m still only […].”

And: “Then I thought maybe she was annoyed with one of the tweets from the petition account and not the crush thing, so I said it was Ruth who tweeted that, and she DM’d me that it was the crush thing and said “I do not interact professionally with people who have personal designs on me” which I think is a hilarious way to put it.”

Leanne said “[…] it sounds complicated but from what I gather [Lynne] was a little petty about it.”

Me: ” Thanks for not saying that it was a really stupid thing to do. Cos I know it was stupid; some lads I know wouldn’t even have got it but I should’ve realised she’s older and more experienced than everyone else, even Kathryn [..]. I spent months trying to get rid of it cos I thought it was a bad thing till a friend of Lochlan’s (the guy I was talking to in the copy/paste) told me [Lynne] isn’t monogamous (she also talks to her online). I think it upset me cos I thought it was a bad thing from the outset and was really embarassed about it and her reaction only confirmed it.”

“I know this whole thing is farcical anyway – it’s the stupidest thing I ever did. All the guys my own age in real life and online who I might actually have a chance with and I choose [Lynne’s pseudonym] of all people. […] I mean seriously, if its so hard to get through to people how does she figure it out in a second?”

I can’t really think of an ending for this, except that life is so shit sometimes and I’m glad I had this experience as a young adult instead of as a teen or when I’m older and looking for meaningful relationships. I’m happy that this has happened because it’s reminded me to beware of love and to focus on casual, meaningless sex instead of adulterating lust with deeper feelings. Last year when Kane first opened my eyes to the idea that I’m not entirely straight, I thought my discovery of my bi nature would be exciting and thrilling, not all horrible like it was with Lynne. But hopefully the weak, needy part of me has been culled by this. The whole Lynne thing delayed my search for a buyer for over a month, but I’m back on track now and negotiating with a couple and two men.

The third-last time I saw Leanne, we were in a Japanese restaurant in Edinburgh. “I hope you find someone it works out with,” she said, and added “If that’s what you want,” which was quite perceptive of her really. Because the Lynne thing has refocused me and I know what I want for the rest of my life – no entanglements, no complications, no barfingly mushy shit that interferes with your cerebral processes – just good old-fashioned pork. And for my first time, I’m getting paid for it.

*This blog was written to fulfil the function of Diary of A Virgin Whore, which is to document my experiences, and I wouldn’t suggest that anyone tries experiencing deeper feelings or acting on them like I did.*

It obviously works for some people but it’s best not to risk it.

 

UPDATE 04/8/13: I just re-watched the movie Ted and apparently Lynne DIDN’T create the “personal designs” phrase out of her own creativity- it is how Americans talk! A character says in the movie “I don’t have any designs on your girlfriend” WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, I thought Americans speak practically ghetto language. What’s with the overly-literate discourse?! So all Lynne did (yep, she hails from the McDonalds Nation) was put “personal” in it. I literally WASTED HOURS OF MY LIFE trying to figure out what exactly she meant by “personal designs”…to me it sounded as if she was saying I’m creepy, wrong, dirty or predatory in some way. But it turns out she wasn’t accusing me of anything at all, other than fancying her (which was true). So she was never as pissed off with me as I believed.If only I’d known, I wouldn’t have been that pissed that she unfollowed, or initially a bit irritated when she asked me stuff about the dickhead guy a couple of months later (cos I felt she was ‘using’ me after treating me like crap. But later I realised I should’ve told her the info without her having to ask me. Yes, I can be a bitch). I also probably wouldn’t have ignored or avoided her for that long, if at all. And I wouldn’t have worried that she might tell people what I’d done. Literally. Hours. Of. My. Life. Goddamn cross-cultural slang differences.