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I've a new piece on Filthy Gorgeous Things, and in it I undress men with my eyes. And then I dress them with my words. And then I undress them just because I can. And then I hold outfits up and go, "hm," thoughtfully. And let them stand around naked, fidgeting.

It's a piece on male dressing for FGT's ornament issue and it begins thusly:

I once fucked a man solely because I saw him changing from his civvies into his bartending clothes and caught a quick and dashing sight of him in his purple low-rise bikini underwear. It was 1984, and at 21, I had never seen a man in anything but either my previous boyfriends’ white Jockeys or my dad’s frighteningly ugly flappy boxers. That bartender’s provocative grape bikini undies got him laid, if only that once.

And yet even as these grape bikini manties held a magical power over my jejune erotic imagination, they also neatly represent a paradox, and that is this: It’s simply easier to be half-naked and hot as a woman than it is to be half-naked and hot as a man.

If you want to read the rest--and I strongly suggest that you do--go here and continue. Then come back here and leave a comment because I care what you think. I also like it when you follow me on Twitter because sometimes all that stands between me and total meltdown is how many followers I have. 

(Photo is of Milan designer Isabel Mastache's now infamous penis pants. I found the photo here, but it's all over the Web.)

Specifically — other escorts. Not me. No, of course not me.

I wrote this several months ago, came across it again and decided to post it here. It’s me being curmudgeonly. I have less and less patience with certain aspects of my own industry. Familiarity breeding scorn? Possibly. Do I think perhaps the industry could move forward? Yes.

Ahem: I’m obviously writing this from the perspective of a female escort/male client relationship simply because it’s most typical and I’m most familiar with it.

I’m standing in front of the classroom, pointer in hand, frowning. Remedial detention is now in session. (Men can imagine me in my secretary/librarian look. Girls…probably aren’t interested in imagining me.)

I peruse new sites on a regular basis. I laugh at those who insist they aren’t high volume. In this economy, nearly everyone in the US is low-volume and exclusive! (If you consider “exclusive” synonymous with “low-volume.”)

Yeah, I know, it’s what they think passes for marketing. The obvious disconnect from reality is what tickles me. That someone who charges $2000 minimum or so for their time somehow feels the need to assure everyone they really don’t have clients lined up around the clock.

No shit.

What doesn’t make me laugh are the girls who think that by being “exclusive” they are somehow “better” (i.e. more special) than those who don’t do things exactly as they do. I’m getting quite sick of the rampant pretension with online escorts. There’s a serious need for some serious bitch-slapping out there. (One can easily separate one’s self from the herd without dissing the rest of the herd.)

Just be yourself. Your clients will figure it out all on their own. Really, they will. Especially if you appeal to men with intelligence. I find they truly are capable of independent thought and drawing their own conclusions. They exist all over the world too. It’s amazing!

I bought into the hierarchy thing when I was a newbie escort. I’ve since learned better. There are very different ways of approaching this business, but it does not make one sex worker somehow better, more valuable or worthier than another.

Your real competition isn’t the girl that you think is riding your coattails or the “cheaper”, “sluttier” girls in your city — it’s you.

I laugh at the high-end girls who claim they do this for the “adventure” of it. I’m sure I’ve said this before, but if they really wanted adventure, they’d be doing it in a back alley for $5/pop (or advertise on BackPage and don’t screen). Not saying well-screened, wealthy men can’t be fascinating, powerful and sexual in their own right but an evening with them would not be what I consider “adventurous.” Not at this point in my life. (For the record, I’m not opposed to the money or the men. Just to calling it an “adventure.”)

This could just be my perspective. While dinner at a 4-star restaurant and sex in a 4-star hotel is a great way to make a living, creates lovely memories and can introduce you to some very wonderful men you wouldn’t normally meet — it’s not an “adventure.” Not unless you lead a very, very sheltered life.

Maybe I just have a higher threshold for my kicks. Who knows?

I still think using the term “date” in regards to meeting a client sounds street. I don’t care if your minimum is $5000 for dinner. Calling it a date and charging money for it sounds street.

Maybe I’m just stuck with the image of a scantily-dressed woman in high heels leaning over a car window to inquire about “dates.” Guess I’m susceptible to media stereotypes after all.

Which is: get expensive hotel-room/expensive-lingerie photos done by one particular photographer and a website done by a particular web designer. Write text that sounds like every other escort you’re emulating. After a while, it gets difficult to find the real person behind the interchangeable everything. (Not saying these service-people aren’t good at their jobs. This is about the choices escorts make.)

For starters: would someone please get escorts the hell away from black, cookie-cutter sites? When will girls realize white is a perfectly acceptable, non-oppressive, elegant color? Few escorts seem that brave. Or how about using bright, non-garish, non-clashing colors on sites? At this point, even pastels seem daring. Any color at all! Please! Human beings really do like color, you know (men are humans too).

Don’t be afraid to try different layouts/site designs. I’m sure a talented designer can come up with new solutions. Heck, popping out the same site over and over again probably gets very boring for them. Be unique and throw out a challenge. Sites that are unique (without being confusing) grab my jaded attention immediately. But then, I’m not a client — just someone who sees a lot of escort sites. (If your clients see a lot of escort sites too, you may want to think about yours.)

And girls so need to learn to choose photographers who know lighting, rather than those who know how to Photoshop (or worse — those who simply have Photoshop). I understand zapping zits but giving yourself a new body shape and new (very-fake) skin? Your clients are going to see you in real light anyway. Take care of yourself instead of relying on Photoshop. Learn posing, learn how to wear flattering clothes and lingerie. And realize your clients are generally pretty happy to just see you naked. Men are much more concerned if you like them than if you have a tummy (like most women do) or if your legs aren’t swizzle sticks. (If you have cankles, you’re out of luck, sorry to say.)

Spend your money on a good photographer instead. A handful of excellent, real photos will make such a difference in your business. Photographers who have bothered to learn their craft are capable of producing great shots that don’t require weeks of “editing.” Just download after the shoot and go!

If you’re truly worried about your real-life appearance, offer a discount for legally-blind clients. Otherwise, understand every woman has a laundry list of things she would change about herself. Do what you can, choose a good photographer with real skills and go with God.

Their personality. Because this business comes down to real-life human connections, it’s the most important tool escorts have and the one they consistently under-utilize. Read a lot of sites and every escort likes the same things, does the same things and has the same life-history (okay, not every single one but tons of them are oddly similar).

Are very similar women drawn to this business? Possibly. Another possibility is that relatively few are confident enough to really stand out. I feel very certain that there are actual, real, individual women behind each site — I just can’t tell because they all present themselves the same way.

A non-airbrushed personality is the best marketing tool ever. It goes with everything, never gains weight but does require keeping in shape. Sometimes it scares clients away — but most of the time, it intrigues. And why not? They’re looking for someone who intrigues them, someone who may match them in the way they want, someone who would really like them. That’s the point.

Even guys who are searching for quickies or just want to see how it feels to have sex with an American girl still want to know who she is. (No, I don’t know how it feels to have sex with an American girl .)

If you have a great personality but start off by hiding it underneath all the other typical crap, you’re probably missing out on some great clients.

Detention is now dismissed. Go make money.

PS: I expand on these ideas in a much more polite and helpful way in Book 2: Advertising and Marketing , in case you’re curious. This post was not written to sell the book, but yes, this is all stuff I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about. One day I’d like to focus on other aspects of life. Really truly.

PPS: The decision to post this formerly-private musing was probably inspired by Casey’s Coats for Cunts. Possibly.

So what did YOU do over the weekend? I posted a new video from one of my naughtier weekends recently, a wild party at my friend Oasis’s house! After the drinks were flowing, perhaps the sombero I was wearing was getting to me, but I had the overwhelming urge to slip my new strapon on and become part of the gangbang!

There’s a little screenshot from the video of us all drunk, giggly, and of course horny! Lots of licking and some great angles of me doing Oasis with my strapon on the video on my horny housewife porn site! Ahhh, I love to be a partygirl!

XOX, Audrey

From Feministe:
40 vs. 4000
“On February 17th, anti-choicers started the “40 Days for Life” campaign, where they show up at abortion clinics and harass patients and employees even more than usual. Now there’s a great (and informative) response: 4,000 Years for Choice. The conclusion: Women have, forever, been trying to control their reproductive capacities and determine for themselves the number and spacing of their children.”

From the site 4000 Years for Choice!:
“Ever wonder about the history of abortion and contraception? When did women first begin to desire control over their reproduction? Are these practices new? Or, in fact, quite old?

Despite the existence of much academic scholarship about this history, most people believe contraception and abortion methods are recent inventions that occurred as a result of the 20th century women’s liberation movement.

In addition, the polarized pro-choice/pro-life reproductive rights debate has been caught between two specific symbols; the hanger and the fetus. 4000 Years for Choice deconstructs these myths and invites viewers to discover a radically different history of the roots of reproductive choice.”

About the campaign:
“4000 Years for Choice is responding to the pro-life movement’s occupation of women’s reproductive health clinics through a national postcard campaign. Beginning on the 37th anniversary of Roe v Wade (January 22, 2010), one postcard a week has been sent to clinics across the country, specifically to those identified in the 40 Days for Life campaign, as well as women’s health clinics in my home state of Illinois and a couple of others that I am personally connected to and want to honor.”

—

This was timely for me. Mr Radical and I were recently driving on a highway when I say a pro-life billboard. It said “Pray to end abortion so more [big city] babies can live.” I read the billboard and then commented to Mr. Radical-”yeah, so there can be even more cars clogging up traffic, just what this city needs”.

I’m reminded of a Doug Stanhope line “I’m pro-abortion. Talk someone into it.” I know I’m veering from politics into comedians again but man, Stanhope is one of my faves. His political, overpopulation, religious bits are full of truth and laughs. I had the pleasure of seeing him in person last year and he was amazing. Drunk as a skunk, as my parents used to say, but still amazing. His Fetus Photo bit is appropriate for this post.

Where was I? Right, abortion history. I studied it a bit in college and it’s pretty interesting. Personally, I think modern women should learn some herbal abortion techniques since controlling what goes in and out of our vaginas is considered controversial.

The site also has a contraceptive/abortion timeline which is informative. Here’s some snippets:
“1000s – In the Middle Ages, artemisia was known as the “mother of all herbs” and used to cure female ailments. The Bishop of Rennes in France wrote, “it stimulates menstra, and whether drunk or applied, stimulates an abortion.”

300s BCE – A colony in northern Africa called Cyrenne became rich from exports of silphium, a plant well-known for its abortive and contraceptive qualities. It was said to be a gift from Apollo. After six-hundred years, overharvesting drove it to extinction.

1850s BCE – The Petri Papyrus, a medical text from Ancient Egypt, listed three different vaginal contraceptive methods; gummy substances made from honey, sodium carbonate, and crocodile dung.”

Below I’ve included a comment I threw together on the Feminist Review’s post on The Little Black Book of Grisélidis Réal, a newly released translation of Réal’s work log and interviews with journalist Jean-Luc Hennig, translated by Ariana Reines. I would suggest reading FR’s “review.”

The Little Black Book is just what the title says: a compendium of Réal’s experiences with her clients. What Réal accomplished in choosing to compile her work log before her death (I know the word “choice” in this case disturbs you) is to showcase the “humanist science” she practiced. The Little Black Book, thankfully without the typically tedious frills and diatribes of political ideology, is a testament to Réal’s immense capability, her meticulous and inspiring attention, the lonely commitment of our profession: “We know them like the back of our hand. As soon as they get in the door, it’s like we’d made them ourselves.”

Your review bemoans the lack of “arguments about prostitution,” but have you considered that Réal’s whole life was an argument? That every client was a case in point? Or that she was tired of fighting so-called feminists demanding a rebuttal? You say “who cares about the client wanting a finger up his ass,” but who cares about your silly, uninformed, and uncomplicated judgments? As if you can simply allude to the complexities of the sex industry, voice your amorphous “support for sex workers,” and call it a day. Réal took notes on her clients in order to document their incredible and secret idiosyncrasies, to become a better and more skilled worker, to keep a record for her own safety, and to provide a unique and lasting testament to the intricacies, and even mundanities, of working in the sex trade. In the future, please consider asking a sex worker to review a book documenting their profession. With that choice, the Review (which is generally a wonderful resource and publication), would avoid mistakes like this in the future.

Comment on the Feminist Review Post on The Little Black Book of Grisélidis Réal, a newly released translation of Réal’s work log and interviews with journalist Jean-Luc Hennig, translated by Ariana Reines.

The Little Black Book is just what the title says: a compendium of Réal’s experiences with her clients. What Réal accomplished in choosing to compile her work log before her death (I know the word “choice” in this case disturbs you) is to showcase the “humanist science” she practiced. The Little Black Book, thankfully without the typically tedious frills and diatribes of political ideology, is a testament to Réal’s immense capability, her meticulous and inspiring attention, the lonely commitment of our profession: “We know them like the back of our hand. As soon as they get in the door, it’s like we’d made them ourselves.”

Your review bemoans the lack of “arguments about prostitution,” but have you considered that Réal’s whole life was an argument? That every client was a case in point? Or that she was tired of fighting so-called feminists demanding a rebuttal? You say “who cares about the client wanting a finger up his ass,” but who cares about your silly, uninformed, and uncomplicated judgments? As if you can simply allude to the complexities of the sex industry, voice your amorphous “support for sex workers,” and call it a day. Réal took notes on her clients in order to document their incredible and secret idiosyncrasies, to become a better and more skilled worker, to keep a record for her own safety, and to provide a unique and lasting testament to the intricacies, and even mundanities, of working in the sex trade. In the future, please consider asking a sex worker to review a book documenting their profession. With that choice, the Review (which is a wonderful resource), would avoid mistakes like this in the future.