The sugar bowl.

It’s been a year since I’ve last posted, and in this time, things have changed drastically for me. After becoming increasingly disillusioned with the lack of money I’m able to make within the constraints of my retail job whilst studying, I have become somewhat of an entrepreneur.

They say sugar makes you sweeter, I say sugar makes you richer.  I stumbled across a site called Seekingarrangements.com and my life instantly changed. They call me a sugar baby which in vanilla terms means that I seek out arrangements with wealthy men on this site. In this context, an arrangement refers to a mutually beneficial relationship between a young woman and an older man. Of course, the site insists that it does not promote sexual services or anything of an explicit nature but naturally this is not the case. Some girls on this site whom I’ve had interactions with explain naively that there is a huge difference between a sugar baby and a prostitute or an escort, but the reality of the situation is that i am a whore. I am paid for sex, and that is what being a ‘sugarbaby’ boils down to.

I am relatively new to this way of life, they call me Madison and the further i go down this rabbit hole the more she becomes a part of me. I’m still not entirely convinced of my emotional state regarding this whole affair, I swing between moods frequently half of me feeling empowered whilst the other part slut shames myself. I’ve never conformed to societal expectations and moralities however even for me, this is a beast of a different nature. I find that writing my feelings down helps me as it is a way to diffuse my emotional state into something far more logical, i would also intend a blog like this to be a useful tool to any other girls considering going down this path as I’ve found there is not a large conversation to draw knowledge and empathy from which can make you feel isolated and intimidated.

So far, I’ve been out with 6 different men and I’ve slept with two, one was a pleasant experience the other makes me want to crawl out of my skin. The biggest aspect I struggle to cope with is acting, I’m not myself during these dates nor do I want to be, I feel like I’m keeping the real part of me separate when i become Madison, she is the one that does her nails the way she is told too, she is the one who agrees to be blindfolded on all fours and be fucked from behind by a man 16 years older than her before walking away with a wad of cash. I’m growing to like Madison and beginning to accept her as part of me but the scary part is trying not to lose myself the closer i become to her. It’s almost as if I’m dissociating myself from the experience but i can’t see another way of continuing.

I have had a perfectly stable upbringing, i have everything going for me in life, with a large circle of friends and family. I’m studying whilst holding down a regular job, I’m not addicted to any substances and i don’t NEED this money. But i want it. I’ll write further in depth about my experiences throughout this process in the near future.

XOXO, Emeline.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Naw cheers guys!

Today is the one week anniversary of my scandalous affair with WordPress, the amount of followers i’ve gotten in such a short time has astounded me thanks heaps for reading my ramblings guys!

muchos loveos

Stripping. Who’s getting exploited anyway?

So i think i kinda maybe wanna take my clothes off for money.

Oh sweet taboo.

So as we’ve established i’m broke as all hell and i’m not too shy of the promiscuous side of life. Well good ole’ me and my solution focused thinking (ahem, cough, cough) have decided that it is absolutely a great idea to take my clothes off for money. And when i say that i’m not talking about providing extra special favours for gentleman callers, rather the softer side of literally just taking my clothes off for money.

I WANNA BE STRIPPER, STRIPPER I SAY. okay now that we’ve said the naughty word out loud, i feel like i need to talk through my reasoning. To cut a long story short, me and my bestie have been casing out the local sex holes to get a grasp on what the profession really entails. And by casing these joints out i mean we’ve been cornering working girls in the bathrooms and shaking them down for information. And i must say i am quite charmed by their interpretation of the job, i.e the money. First things first (i’m the realest) nah but actually, i’m not a naive little darling who has no greater understanding of the wider world that is sex and the selling of it. I am fully aware that their are risks to the game and that my self worth is at stake and yada, yada,yada. But to be perfectly honest i have a reasonably strong sense of self and i’ve avoided the drug scene for this long so hey i’m in with a shot right.

Another line of reasoning i have rested on is who’s really getting exploited in the strip clubs? I don’t believe it’s the girls, in my opinion it’s the lads. I justify this by saying that stripping is not like prostitution, you’re not selling sex, you’re selling the idea of sex. And if people want to pay me sums of money for an idea i”m totally down with that. The girls working the poles and suggesting private dancers emotionally switch off during the act (so i’m told) and just get on with it, same old, just like  flipping burgers. The blokes on the other hand are that desperate for either affection or arousal of just a distraction from pure boredom that they’re easy bait for the gorgeous young women preying on their pockets.

I’m not sure if i’ll go through with it, although i’ve already bought the shoes (and i don’t part with $100 that easily) so i suppose we’ll have to wait and see. But i am curious, i’ve always been inquisitive about sex and pushing boundaries and i suppose this idea goes hand in hand with that mentality. I don’t think what you do defines who you are but i know a lotta people do believe that saying to be true, which is a bit sad in my books. At least an open mind is open to experience.

But hey, if i hate it at least i’ll have the cash to buy a ticket and vacate the country ASAP. And that my friends is how you find a silver lining in everything.

I shall see you all at our next rendezvous, xoxo Em.

*Disclaimer: I understand that not all girls have a say in doing this, as with cases of human trafficking, however in my city it’s above board, and this is my reference point for my thoughts.*

Future terrors

At the ripe old age of 20, i’ve realised that i’m fucking terrified about the future.

I mean i know i’ve got another decade or so before the real paralysis of fear kicks in, but right now i can already feel the goose bumps rising when i think about the dirtiest words in the English language; Commitment, stability and children.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when i realise that right now i’m in my 20’s i’m in the so – called prime of my life and the heavy weight of this makes me want to crawl under a rock for a few hours whenever i remember it. I mean what does the ‘prime of your life’ even mean? And what i am expected to do during this fabulous years? AM I WASTING MY 20’S!?!? is it wrong that my idea of a fun night is spooning my cat and watching documentaries about serial killers? The thought alone is exhausting my overloaded brain.

So far my experience of this (overrated) era in my life is shithouse, for lack of a better word. I’m constantly broke, drowning in uni assignments for a course i’m not even sure i really want to do. I’m unemployed and it’s near damn impossible to find work in this ‘delightful’ city of Melbourne if you don’t have prior experience. But how the hell do you get prior experience if nobody will give you initial experience? stupid vicious circle. Oh, and i’m painfully afraid of commitment, so of course the cause and affect of such fear is perpetual singledom.

Don’t get me wrong i’d give both my eyeballs to be able to travel more, do spontaneous road trips and frequent the best bars in the city. But slight hitch right here peoples, it all requires fucking cash. And thus lies my predicament; MUST-enjoy- 20’s – because-life-after-30-is-shit-but can’t-enjoy-20’s-because-so-very-broke.

But anyway to commitment. This is one hella scary concept folks, and i’m not just talking about committing to another human but committing to a job, to hobbies, to pretty much anything that requires anymore than my email address. I can probably trace this fear back to daddy issues and all that jaz, but i don’t want to exceed my cliche threshold at such a tender age. So we’re just gonna go with my brain is deformed and i was probably dropped on my head as a small child therefore i am incapable of experiencing true love! I do apologise i had to stifle my gag reflex re-reading that last sentence. But in all honestly even flirting with commitment makes me rather uncomfortable. *insert example*

Scenario: I’m with a super hot bloke, we’ve had a fantastic date i leave feeling elated and excited to see him again. He then proceeds to message me the next day and asks me if we can meet up again. My commitment alarm siren starts whirling in the background and i immediately commence operation ignore – quite simply i just never reply to him again and happily withdraw back into my bubble of self inflicted alone time.

So basically due to the fact that i can barely commit to a favourite pizza, i see a doubtful future laying ahead for me. Which kinda snowballs into the whole ‘children’ thing. I mean unless i just get knocked up by accident after a sleazy fumble between the sheets (likely) or the immaculate conception round 2 happens (not likely but man that would make a damn good blog post) i just can’t see myself procreating. And i’m okay with that i think.. oh fuck it i can’t even commit to the idea of committing to have kids. I’ll just have a farm instead i think with lots of fluffy animals with soft fur to absorb the tears of loneliness.

And as for stability, well hey we’ll just say thats one hell of a good subject to have a laugh about in your downtime.

Anyway, i hope you all have your shit together and your ducks in a much neater row than me. If not god bless, and you’re welcome to come live on the soft fluffy animal farm with me.

Farewell fellow spinsters and bachelors, Em.

How not to get laid: pt 2

So anyway, in my last post we had a good old chat about one of the major ways to ensure you never get your dick wet. But discussing this topic made me think of all the reasons i would never sleep with a guy/even have a conversation with him.

without further ado…. DA DUM CHA.. how not to get laid!

1) Holla at girls out of car windows. You know what i’m talking about the whole incessant beeping of the horn thing, yelling out ‘WOOOOO hey sexy’ out the window of your mates shitty old corolla. I’m sorry lads but i’ve never heard of a single instance when a guy has performed this particular party trick and a girl has stripped off instantly in the middle of a main road and jumped into the dudes car to bang his brains out. In fact all this does is, is strengthen our resolve to buy a new chastity belt and wear more layers.

2) Lingering around us and our friends at bars like a moth to a flame. Just stop this, if we haven’t given you the flirty eyes and started interacting with you in the first minute, we’re probably not interested.

3) Assume all girls are one track minded beasts obsessed with entrapping you in a relationship and eating your freedom for lunch. Trust me half the girls i know just want casual sex and another friend, but if you instantly bring up ‘I hope you’re not looking for a relationship because xyz…’ you’ll turn her off instantly, because us chicks like the thrill of fantasy.

4) Send us dick pics. These are never good, ever, i’m sorry but please refrain. There’s no other way to put it but girls bodies are simply more photogenic than yours fellas. Trust me on this one: You send it -> She rolls around on the floor laughing -> Forwards it to all her friends so they can laugh too -> She meets up with those friends and they all laugh together -> The idea of shagging you makes her feel unwell -> You get blue balls… forever.

5) Just an add on to the above , DON’T ask her to send you pics. If it’s your girlfriend that’s cool but to some random girl you’re just having a cheeky flirt with that is a red light for her mojo. Her brain goes to a familiar land where you are a sex obsessed maniac who wants to wank off to her breasticles.

6) Talking about your gym routine and all of the protein shakes you’ve been chugging down. Okay, okay we get it. We all know ladies are not impartial to a bit of definition on the man she’s digging, but this quickly changes into boredom when he won’t stop talking about it. It’s much sexier to leave some things to the imagination.

7) Scooby doo bed covers nicely tucked into your single bed by mother dearest. Please gentlemen, if you’re old enough to shag my brains out you’re old enough to decorate your room on your own.

8) A forest down below. Us girls always put in the prep for a night with a guy, we get Brazilian waxes (more painful than childbirth btw) the least you can do is a basic bit of manscaping (trim, trim).

9) Play hard to get to the point where trying to get in touch with you is as difficult as reading a where’s wally book whilst tripping on acid. Just don’t leave us hanging if you’re keen and we’re keen, Make it easy or we’ll lose interest. Keep in mind girls can find roots as easy as they can find their phone when they want to send a drunk text.

10) Be too nice. I mean don’t be a dick but don’t treat the lady in question like she’s a delicate princess who needs her every desire met by you. Treat us with respect but don’t go all in 100% straight away. For some reason this is scary and a turn off, i can’t even explain why it’s a turn off but just trust me on this one.

If anyone else has a cringeworthy turn off please chuck it in the comments!

xoxo, Em

How not to get laid: pt 1

Saturday night: Me and my friends are prepping for a huge night out, keen to get out and socialise.

Reality: Me and the girls are sitting around on red wine stained carpet in our pjs drinking cheap sangria by the litre.

Even sadder reality: I’d much rather be doing this than the first option.

I wouldn’t say i’m reclusive, However the cheap thrills of the average night out have been soured as of late, in large part due to inappropriately placed hands on my ass. The question i’m asking is why do hoards of alcohol fuelled boys seem to come to the conclusion that every part of our bodies is up for grabs – literally? Now i’m not generalising and stereotyping to say that all men are like this and function on this delinquent wave length, but some (and not only a handful) are.

In essence i am just majorly annoyed that enjoyment of those wonderful nights out have been ruined for me! Again and again and again me and many other chikas have had the line stuffed down our throats that ‘if you don’t wanna attract that kind of attention don’t put yourselves in those situations.’  To this i say fuck that, and call bullshit. I resent the idea that if a girl can’t cop the idea of anonymous men in clubs grinding up on them without consent  or hovering sleezily over their shoulders that they should not participate in social activities. And the worst part is that i’ve personally found it’s not just the drunken punters that are out and about perpetrating this sort of behaviour, the security is just as bad. The general idea of security is that they are meant to make patrons feel secure and protect them from assaults and indecent actions, sadly this is not the case.

The first time i endured untoward advances from a bounder was when i was freshly 18, completely naive and a little bit scared of the whole clubbing situation. i remember walking back from the bar – vodka raspberry in hand (How predictable) when a heavy set security guard reached out for a cheeky feel. I recall turning in shock and seeing smirk on his stubbly face before he blended back into the crowd. I just don’t understand how this phenonomen is being ignored!! Sure there’s plenty of attention given to the rise of assaults against women on the street and in the home, but what about us gals who just wanna have fun? (Forgive me for the Cyndi Lauper reference).

I believe guys are not discouraged from touching girls without permission in licensed venues because society views the girls who enjoy clubbing and bar hopping as a lesser class. It’s just a ‘phase’ we’ll grow out of. I dispute this, We are not less meaningful human beings because we require the good old gin and tonic after a hard week at work! We are not ‘bad girls’ who are just waiting to grow up, settle down and have kids and come around to the good side. The desire to go out and have a good time with friends is universal and it does not have a gender.

I don’t want to rant on for eternity, But all i’m saying is guys, please consider your actions and the fact that they are affecting another person and their experience. If you want a girl’s attention on a night out, great! woo, you go Glen Coco, but for the love of cheese please retain your dignity and go up to the lass and strike up a conversation. Catcalling at girls for the sake of impressing your mates is never gonna get you far and most importantly it is certainly not gonna get you laid. I reckon the best rule of thumb in these occasions is to imagine your mother is watching you at all times through a secret camera hidden at the bottom of your beer, so act accordingly.

And just one last reminder, if the girl in question is shifting away from you, making crazy eyes at her friend across the table and hiding behind her hair/drink well then, she is politely telling you to fuck off. So pick yourself up, dust yourself off and go fondle your privates in the bathroom if you’re really desperate to cop a feel and are too broke to pay for it.

Love, Emeline.

Sexting revised #no.6 W

Okay so just now i’m texting this dude who’s supposedly into me, i cop ‘if you can’t sleep you should come get in bed with me’ to which i replied ‘Ahah you wish ;p’ He retaliated with ‘I Never said we would be doing anything sexual…’

WOW, left feeling like someone just threw me out cold on my ass, wow wow wow.

In case you wondering the last W now that i have taken the liberty to add is ‘Wrong’ as in, what you sent me was wrong, killed the mood, i think you suck and i am now blogging angrily about you to cyber space at 5.17am.

farewell for now (again), i swear i’m going, okay bye. YOU HANG UP, no you, Oh okay fine i’ll hang up.

bye guys, Em.

beeeeeeeep

Awkward social habits

So I’m sitting in my car on a Friday night near my favourite burger place. I need this burger NEED it, but here I am sitting in my fucking car.

I’m not crazy, well at least not completely but the guy I’m somewhat seeing works not far up, and he might possibly be on this street.

I’m hiding because if we bump into each other he will assume I’m stalking him because he knows full well that I know full well he worked tonight.

So I’m having a bit of a dilemma.. Stay and wait it out or initiate stealthy operation burger asap…

Oh god I’m pathetic, this is not normal I’m not normal, apologies.

Wish me luck (and sanity)
Love,  Em.

Gotta love the chase.

So, it’s 5.35am, yet again and i’m sitting here attempting to put my words in print. i feel like i should start at the beginning, but right now i just need to rant. To put it simply, i hate it when a guy likes me, to the point where i feel physically repulsed. The chase gets me going, makes me feel wanted and desirable, i fall in love fast and frequently. I stay up late staring at the chat bar on Facebook begging the powers to be to get them to message me. They do, i feel elated, dizzy even and then all of a sudden they’ll say something sweet like ‘I love talking to you, when can i see you again’ and its ruined. i feel the bile rising in my throat and the familiar tingling sensation of disgust emanates through my body and i need them to be as physically and mentally far away from as possible.

I hate this, i hate that the more right a guy is for me, the better he treats me and the little details about me he remembers the more wrong my twisted brain decides he is for me. the resentment i have toward my own feelings is eating me up. i keep pestering my friends for explanations, and of course they are none the wiser. How can i expect them to interpret my thoughts and actions when my minds such a confusing place that even i’m scared to explore.

Self sabotage is nothing new to me. But now i feel like the resentment i feel toward my ex and the blame that i have put on him for the past year is imploding in my own brain, and i can’t stop myself over thinking and finding non existent faults in the guys who are just trying to treat me well.

An example of this stupid trait of mine; i met this guy we’ll know as Joe a while a go at a club in Melbourne we’ll call XYZ. He was hot, had good banter and was interested in everything i had to say. However i blew him off for an old ‘friend with benefits’ guy named Max for these purposes. The problem with Max is that essentially he has the same qualities that Joe has, sexy, charismatic and extremely charming however he never has time for me. I have had mind blowing sex with Max on multiple occasions and have convinced myself i’m in love with him. But my older wiser self knows that this is only because he’s emotionally unavailable, therefore safe. Joe on the other hand would rather do nothing but make time for me, take me out for drinks and remembers little details like my friends names. So i hate him.

i’ve been driving my poor friends mad, the nicer Joe is to me the more faults i invent to sabotage our chances. to sabotage myself. He’ll message me ‘i’m so glad to have met you’ and instantly i message ‘laura’ saying ‘What if he’s religious, it would never work out’ to which she replies ‘Do you have any reason to think that’. Me: ‘no i dont, but he might be so i need to end this’. and on and on and on and on.

these crazy irrational circles are driving me insane.

i’m trying to talk myself out of this stupidness, but it is proving difficult, maybe writing all this down will help.

maybe.

Anyway, that’s all for now.

Love, Emeline.