Author Archives: Kalika Gold: VirginWhore

About Kalika Gold: VirginWhore

I'm blogging to document my experience selling my virginity. The blog is also a liberal feminist blog for the promotion of sexual freedom. I'm currently working with author Ruth Jacobs and writer Slutocrat to get the Merseyside model implemented across all UK police forces. I'm also doing a postgrad and have a part-time job in a cafe.

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.


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:

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.


All My Loves: I get revenge on the boy I fancy with police, drugs & an anonymous note

So…this time we’re going back in time! This is because a true story about plotting revenge on your crush by getting the police on them through sending an anonymous note to the school admin with cannabis taped to it is interesting. Oh, and because I want to delay the Lynne blog. I do not want to blog about her. I’m worried she will see it, get pissed and block me on Twitter. Or see it, get pissed and internally combust from rage, explode and drift down all over Scotland in little Lynne-fragments. And then her partner and friends would kill me. Though the nasty horrible people would love me – I’d probs get some sweet, sweet action. I can imagine myself pumping away on their hateful ignorant arses while certain activists and bloggers duel to take Lynne’s place in a Highlander-style ‘There can be only one!’ epic battle. But I digress.

I was 14 and 8 months and had been trying to get a stunning, popular blonde guy at my new school. It’s always the same story of me trying to get a stunning blonde. He was called Billy. I also fancied his friend Leroy. Luckily for me, the popular clique  took a shine to me and came to my house once or twice. They had their own popular clique-slash-youth-gang website. My friend Lochlan, who I already knew at the time, also had a website which was basically WikiLeaks for our school. Think that episode of South Park where the rat has a gossip site. Lochlan’s website was more of a blog, though nobody knew what a blog was because this was 2004 or 2005.

Anyway I knew the clique (they were aged 13-16)and I liked one of the girls, Shirley who was in my year. I was friends with her. I thought another girl, Lena, was beautiful and I understand now that I must’ve fancied her in a vague way. She was blonde, which might explain that though in her case it was a dye job. 15 year old Lena was Billy’s ex but they were still friends. She usually only took older boys because they had bigger dicks but Billy was tall so she’d made an exception for him though he was in my year and a year younger than her. Billy did have a great dick and she’d tested all its capabilities, especially on holiday with Billy’s family when they were 13 and 14, where they’d had a room to themselves.Shirley stuck up for me when I got into a very short punching match with another girl. The girl left me alone after that cos the clique made sure everyone knew I had their protection.

One night the clique offered it to me – join them and be popular. I wanted popularity. I’ve always had instincts for getting ahead. And when I looked at Shirley I knew I wanted to go where she went. She had a way about her – she wasn’t conventionally pretty like Lena but – okay let’s just say I probably fancied 4 out of the 6 people in this gang, to varying degrees. Shirley gave me a wee bit of cannabis when I asked her. I wanted to keep it safe in case I needed it to use against anyone in the group. Yeah, I must’ve had a premonition.

But I had to choose. Their life – taking drugs (not just harmless ones like cannabis) or the life of mundaneity. I chose mundaneity.

We continued to contact though and I eventually managed to get a date with Kenny set up. The group came to my house. “What’s up, Monique?” said Shirley, quoting from I don’t know what and flipping out her hand. She had a bottle of vodka in her other hand and in the darkness she looked – somehow real. Not gorgeous but real. Her brown hair and dark eyes – she looked like a film star as she enunciated each syllable perfectly. Leroy was there and he was looking at me. His body was lean and looked good in that shirt. I thought, delicious. He would be mine. That hair, just waiting to be ruffled. Everything was going perfectly – except that my mum wouldn’t let me out cos we were having dinner. She wanted them to wait 20 minutes. I was filled with frustration at the idea of waiting even a second to hug Leroy, to feel his hair. I wanted to flirt with him right now. The delay didn’t sit well with my blonde Billy either. He smashed one of the garden ornaments and stuck a lit fag through our letterbox. My mum called the police.

I still fancied Billy. Leroy’s parents, who were reputedly rich, didn’t want him hanging around with Billy any more and my mum felt the same way. I’m not sure why I decided to take revenge on Billy. It could’ve been the incident I’ve just mentioned, or maybe because he threw eggs at our windows a few weeks later, or because he didn’t fancy me, or maybe all of these reasons. Anyway I asked Shirley for another wee bit of cannabis (having lost the first bit). Next day at lunchtime I headed to the library, where me and Lochlan often hung out.

I wrote a note after making one or two drafts. The note said that since I’d joined this school, the clique had been nice to me and helped me settle in and so I wanted to help them by getting them off the drugs. “Please help Shirley” I wrote, saying that she was nicest and I liked her the most. The note named them all, and though I didn’t write in everyone’s surnames, there was enough info for the school admin to know who they were. I knew that the clique was under incredible surveillance by school staff and the authorities. The note’s focus was on Shirley and Lena, so it wouldn’t look like I was taking revenge on Billy (the school admin knew about the incident). I wrote that I was sticking a bit of cannabis there as proof. I said I didn’t want to give out my name in case the group was told I’d written this and felt hurt, but that if the authorities wanted to find me I’d given enough info in this note for them to track me down.

I knew I had no hope of anonymity because of the admin staffs’ constant surveillance of both me and the clique. They would already know I was in contact with the clique. To appear as though I had honest intentions, I shouldn’t try too hard for anonymity . So just before writing the note I told the school librarian what I was doing and showed her the cannabis which she sniffed. I let her see the note and asked if it was clear. Of course, I knew she’d be reporting what I was doing to the school admin. I knew that once she told them, I wouldn’t have to wait until next time the bully box was emptied to get revenge. I knew the school would give me enough time to stick the note in, then read it as soon as possible.

Then off I went to put the note into the bully box (a box in a corridor where any pupil could anonymously put in the names of bullies). I planned to wait till home time to do it, though I dunno if I did. As I put in the note, (and as I’d been writing it) I whispered “I’m sorry I have to do this, Shirley, it’s not to put you in trouble. It’s not for you, Shirley. But sometimes things just have to be done. I’m sorry.”

I put it in, condemning 6 people to their fate as I did so, and all to get revenge on one of them.

Now, all I had to do was wait. Council policy meant that the school administration’s hand would be forced; they would have to call the police on Billy and the clique just for possessing the harmless drug.

Two days later I was sitting in Maths class and the door was open. The police and a school admin staff dragged Billy, Leroy and another boy out of their maths class across the corridor from mine. They were ordered to empty their bags and the police searched them. Everyone in my class was interested but only I knew what was going on. The teacher shut the door and told us to stop gawking and get on with our work. I successfully hid my grin.

Later I heard that drugs had been found in their bags. They all got suspended. A day after that I came across Shirley at lunch time, walking near the school grounds. She said she’d been excluded because drugs were found in her bag. Did she know how the police knew she had the grass, I wanted to know. She shrugged miserably. Dunno. Who knows how the polis work?

I felt sorry for Shirley and went away satisfied.

When I was 18 I was on MSN with Lochlan from my student flat and I told him. He had a good memory of all of it and was amazed. I asked who he thought had been responsible or how he thought the police knew about the drugs. “I thought it was just random,” he typed. But ain’t nothin’ random when Kalika’s around.

Though I’m glad to say that I’ve calmed down a lot and picked up some ethics and morality as I’ve got older, and I no longer think it’s acceptable to sacrifice innocents as collateral damage just to take revenge on your target.


All My Loves (3): Kane the poly Dom

So, we’re going to jump from when I was 13 to when I was 20 and just turning 21. Not that interesting stuff with boys didn’t happen in between – there’s a reason why Portishead’s song ‘Teardrop on the fire’ reminds me of sexual freedom. If only I’d gone home aged 19 with “The Toyboy” as I called him in my conversations with Lochlan, this blog wouldn’t exist. Or if, a few weeks later, I’d gone all the way with my gay friend in the bushes instead of just wanking him off. But anyway. This is about Kane or “American Guy” as I call him.

I was 20 and scouting the personal profiles of members on a BDSM website I’d joined aged 16. What was I looking for, people have tended to ask. Well, this was B.L. (Before Lynne) so the only thing I was ever looking for was to fuck, and right now, like yesterday.

Kane was a polyamorous dom and a quick message soon got us talking on a regular basis. We were always honest with each other. I felt we wanted different things, though – he was already thinking about me becoming one of his life partners. He was single at the time but had lived in poly households before. I could easily envision me with a couple of husbands living with Kane and with – or near – his other wives and their men. But the idea of commitment worried me. Actually, it terrified me. Going to the USA for the summer to be with him – that was what I wanted. But to live with him for months? For a year? Years?

Kane opened my eyes to politics. He’s a libertarian, which means he’s for no gun control and no drugs control as well as no welfare state. That’s not as evil as it sounds – he explained the complexities of the arguments to me and while I don’t yet know exactly where I stand (though I do support the NHS) it was very interesting to realise that people who seem completely opposed often have the same goal – the best for everyone. We just disagree on how to get there.

The guy supported the Iraq war, a position we remain opposed on. I’d told him we weren’t compatible early on (because of our political beliefs and he was, like, really controlling – probably too much for me.) But he refused to believe it.  I was also in regular contact with three other guys – one was my age, one a year younger and one a few years older. The youngest didn’t approve of my relationship with Kane. Although we’d never met, Kane and I considered ourselves in a relationship and had made plans for me to go to the USA in the summer. I believed that selling my virginity would help fund that. Kane was an older guy, the kind that my ex-flatmate would’ve gone for. I didn’t give two flying fucks about age, I just wanted ‘tae git ma cock’ as Irvine Welsh would probably say in that delightful way of his..

Kane taught me so much stuff. We had a shared hate of Creationists (though he has near-Creationist friends and I have Creationist relatives.) I would tell him hot torture and spanking stories I made up. Through our talks, I came to appreciate the beauty of the Blood Eagle when performed on a hot man, and the exquisite aesthetic of government torture. (When it’s fictional.) Kane wanted to turn me into a kittygirl and had used Saran wrap to make wormgirls before. He also turned people into puppygirls. He critiqued my erotic fiction/porn fiction and I’d often stay up till 3am or even till 7am talking to him. Kane helped me see that I had bisexual tendencies. He believed that most people were bisexual to some degree but that after experimentation he’d determined that he was straight. That night I had a dream about snogging these two girls in a bar – a blonde and a redhead – and going to this flat and then they were topless and I touched their breasts. My dreams are vivid but they’re usually about my family, friends and acquaintances. It was one of the few dreams about women that I remember, though I do dream about men. He called me his bratling.

Kane pursued knowledge vociferously, reading books like ingesting knowledge was what kept him alive. He was a sciencey type and had a black belt in a martial art. He had information I very much wanted, such as how to make your own gunpowder and bullets, and how to drive someone to suicide. Kane was an executive and he had long hair. He was good looking. Like Leanne, he wasn’t surprised when I told him about selling virginity to Roland.

With all this talk of him maybe being my baby-daddy some day, the inevitable happened – I wanted to please him, wanted to try to commit to him in some way. I eventually believed I was in love with him because I thought of him every time I woke up and I would say his name before I slept. Sometimes I slept facing America. He was in my thoughts all the time. I’d never felt that way about a guy before; perhaps I was destined to marry Kane. I decided to tell him, and I logged on from one of the university computers, opened his last email to me, and it was really short. He said he was dumping me because I didn’t want stability and didn’t think that DNA testing my future kids to find out if he was their dad was important. It was a calm, measured, polite email – which sums up Kane perfectly. His last words to me were that I would become “a formidable person” which is his sincerest wish for me. I consider that the highest praise I’ve ever received.

I emailed back that I thought it was for the best, and that I’d never forget him. I also asked him if he’d tell me how to drive someone to suicide (not that I’d ever do it of course) and added that I knew he wouldn’t reply. Then I went on this blog to blog about it briefly. I felt no sadness – nothing. It seemed nothing more than an interesting experience in my life that would equip me for future challenges. I was delighted by my lack of emotion, believing that I had mastered my weakness and was in control of my emotions. I believed I could never be hurt by love and other barfingly mushy stuff like it.

I think the problem was that Kane had a specific goal of getting a wife in mind, so he ignored the warning signs and decided I was the one, before rejecting that decision. And that’s why I don’t think that trying to find husbands or wives by picking up people in bars really works.

But anyway. At the time I first wrote about Kane on this blog – immediately after he’d dumped me – I was flying high. I was selling virginity and had other shaggables on the internet, and no sad lovey-dovey crap was going to ruin my pursuit of pleasure. The future shone ahead, full of the kinky exploration of my sexual identity. As I sit here a year later, without a confirmed buyer yet (Roland moved to the USA before completion of the contract) and knowing that at any moment a Lynne-like episode might strike me again, and with only the experience of selling sexual services and the £2,150 it got me to show for the year, I feel kinda sad…




My first post on Harlots Parlour (the sex industry blog). It’s about the Merseyside model petition. Also, follow Harlots Parlour; it’s an interesting mix of sex work politics, musings, current events and what they call ‘citizen journalism’ by multiple authors.)

Harlots Parlour

Please welcome and support our new author Kalika Gold and support her petition to have the Merseyside model adopted by all British police forces.

The Petition

The petition aims to extend the Merseyside Police’s strategy (declaring all crimes against sex workers hate crimes and working in partnership with sex workers’ organisations to catch violent criminals) to all UK police forces.

You can sign it now:


The petition isn’t in my name because for Government petitions, a legal name and current address are required. All names and addresses are verified – which took a week- before petitions are made visible. The name is publically visible on the petition. Although I’m currently still studying, I’m worried that future employers might discriminate against me when I graduate and enter the job market. I could have done a petition, but a Government petition has more chance of success because if we…

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All My Loves (2) A bet, a murder fantasy and I tried to force a girl to wet herself

My diary entries from ages 9 to 10 are mostly in code – an earlier version of the code I use now. Some of it is undecipherable, but it’s clear that they’re about boys who I believe I’m “in love” with.

Well, I’ve told you how I accidentally evacuated a shopping centre while chasing this Sam guy when I’d just turned 13. The next guy I lusted after was the stunning blonde and popular Ricky. You might actually have heard of him.


Claim to fame: Gorgeous

Length of pursuit: 2 weeks

Conclusion: Lost interest

I betted one of my enemies who also fancied Ricky that I could get a date with the popular and absolutely luscious Ricky. This wasn’t the  smartest thing to do but I was a very confident 13 year old and I liked taking risks. So lots of people knew about the bet – I forget what the stakes were, or even if there were any.

Ricky had shown a wee bit of interest in me and I talked to him and somehow got him to ask me out to McDonald’s. I swear, I was much better at flirting in the old days. So I’m waiting outside McDonalds and people from school are walking past – more people up the town than usual, because everyone knows about the date. My enemy and her friends are hanging around nearby. Will Ricky show up? That’s what we’re all waiting on. That’s what my rep hangs on. I’ve got a sort of insurance in case Ricky doesn’t turn up, though. I’ll say I was waiting here for my friends. That’s what I’m telling all the acquaintances and randoms who stop by to talk to me or tell me to go while I can cos he’s not showing up, or silently rip the pish.

At this age, I’m a prude who thinks sex before you’re at university is wrong. But I’m wearing red underwear just in case, even though I have no intention of having sex with Ricky. Though I do fantasise it, and I do have wet dreams about him. (My libido has atrophied since).

I remember one of my friends, Kim, seeing Ricky’s mate pull down his trousers and I was so jel. I also heard about the time he stood on the roof of the slide in the park and peed into the air. One time me and my friends were all meant to be going somewhere (it was an isolated spot) and Kim’s mum kept ringing her to check she wasn’t being abducted by paedophiles. Then we saw Dylan, Kim’s boyfriend, and they disappeared into the bushes for 45 minutes while the rest of us chatted and I felt myself burn with jealousy; what would it be like to touch Dylan’s body, or Kim’s? When would I have my first kiss? When would it be my turn to have sex? The day culminated in us all getting lost and me deliberately sliding down a really big hill on my bum. Took me twenty minutes to slide and I came out in these fields. I’ve got a good sense of direction, so I made it home easily. My jeans were ruined though with all the mud. I felt happy as I floated through the fields, running free. I might not yet have had sex, but I could excel at wild stunts. They told that story of my slide for weeks.

Ricky didn’t turn up but my ‘insurance’ meant that my enemy had a hard time taking the pish. I fancied Ricky’s black-haired friend, Tom, at this time. Years later, about four months ago, Tom tracked me down and told me he’d fancied me back then. I was shocked cos I had lots of spots back then. Tom wanted to shag me but I already had the deal with Roland then. I thought about a spanking sesh but Tom’s not kinky and I don’t fancy him now.


On my first day at my new school I sat down beside Lochlan and we hit it off instantly. I decided I’d shag him once he grew taller than me. I didn’t put this plan into gear until I was 19 – I called him late at night. He was at a bus stop, having left a club. I was reading ‘Driver’s Ed’, a book about teens who steal a ‘stop’ sign, resulting in the death of a woman. Lochlan said having sex might muck up our friendship, and I definitely think he was right there. After I got off the phone I cried and then I masturbated for the first time ever. I did it for over six hours to that book, to the idea of committing murder. It was daylight when I fell asleep.


This next story I’ve got to tell is not something I am not proud of. I really wish we’d learned more about what counts as sexual at school. If I’d known about BDSM, or that you can be bisexual without knowing it yet, I would’ve known what I was doing was wrong.

I don’t remember the girl’s name. I didn’t realise what I’d done until I started thinking about writing the “All My Loves” posts. I was 14 at the time. Sheryl was one of three girls who came round to my house 2 or 3 times and one of them might have stolen my Gameboy Advance SP. Anyway, we were talking on the step and Sheryl said she was bursting for a pee and could she come in and use the toilet. I shut the door. “No way, I want to see you pish yourself,” I said, making Sheryl’s friends giggle. Sheryl continued to plead with me and I got my skipping rope and grabbed her, pulling her to a nearby tree. I was only a year older but I was always tall and strong for my age. I got her against the tree and tied the rope around the tree and around her. She struggled and her friends laughed. As far as they were concerned, I was playing – but I knew I wasn’t playing. I knew I wanted this although I didn’t know why.

I managed to keep Sheryl there for 2 or 3 minutes until she eventually struggled free and ran away. I made a couple of attempts at holding her still so she would pee herself, but each time Sheryl got free even when one of her friends tried to help me. Sheryl pleaded once more for me to let her in to use the toilet but I didn’t. She told me the next day that when she got home she was “leaking”. They all thought it was funny, as did I. I didn’t understand that I’d tried to force her to do something sexual or that I was kinky or bisexual.

Like with many sexual assaults or coercion, I was Sheryl’s acquaintance and not a stranger.