Not allowed to shame me.

It has taken a lot of courage for me to write this one.

As I’m typing it right now…still in edit mode, I’m thinking to myself “there is no going back if you publish this one, are you sure?

Think about the shame.

Am I oversharing?

Is there such a thing as over sharing if it’s my blog?

Am I going to regret exposing this side of myself?

On the other hand, didn’t this play a roll into who I am right now?

1 deep breathe.

2 deep breathes..

3 deep breathes…


When I was 18 I signed up on a sugar daddy website.

I was arrested a month before my 18th birthday for drinking and driving.

I totaled my car when it happened.

My grandparents kicked me out, which resulted in me dropping out of my second semester of college.

Their love for me is very conditional.

My mom was/is the black sheep of their children and I was very much put into that box as well.

Any fuck up was followed by me being kicked out of the house.

But why did they sue for full custody then?

It’s like they wanted me to be grateful for the fact that they saved me from the chaos, while unwilling to recognize that removing me from the environment, was only a small part of what should of been my healing.

I stayed in survival mode with Mimi and Pots the entirety of my time with them because of their ‘my way or the highway’ mentality.

Anyways, back to the story.

I had only been dating Joe for maybe 90 days when this happened.

My options were to stay with my aunt and uncle and abide by their rules.

*ahem*

I have a serious problem with authority.

I guess it comes from the men my mom would let into our lives- they would try to set rules, disciple, and overall ‘instill fear’ into Abbi and I.

OR move in with my boyfriend of 90 days.

YIKES.

Obviously I chose to stay with Joe.

I was having to pay on my bond every week, hiring a lawyer, so on and so forth.

There was no way minimum wage was going to cover my legal fees and there was no way I was making any more than that right out of high school.

So I signed up on a sugar daddy website.

I had no idea what I was doing or if I would even have the guts to actually follow through.

This was circa 2012- only fans wasn’t a thing yet.

At first it was just a bunch of nonsense perverts on the internet.

Men…or who you assume is a man behind the emails and texts, asking for nudes and promising to send money to your PayPal.

Lets be real- the majority of these men are never going to send you a dime.

You could be the baddest bitch in the sea, but unless you are exposing yourself in a way that they KNOW makes you uncomfortable, no money is coming out of their pockets.

The whole fantasy that some man is going to pay you big bucks for you to walk around with him like a show pony, is just that, a fantasy.

These men are paying for sex.

Eventually, I did find someone who was real and lived in town.

He was probably upper 30’s..maybe early 40’s.

Not good looking- they never are.

If they are- their dick is small.

I can promise you that.

He was divorced, had a nice house in Ransom Canyon and seemed normal enough to trust to go alone with.

It makes me feel uneasy to think about the first time I got into his truck

.No one knows better than myself, how much of a dangerous situation I put myself in.

No one else is responsible for my safety besides and I let myself down.

I was so young and dumb, ya know?

Sure, I was scared but I was too ashamed to even tell a friend where I was going.

Wait…what friends?

At this point in my life I didn’t have many.

I had fallen out of touch with my high school friends.

I spent all my time with Joe and his roommates.

Looking back now, I can see the spiral I was in.

Only trying to survive until the next day.

Snorting cocaine every night, living off McDonald’s, and binge drinking until 6 a.m.

I was always in a situation I never should of allowed myself to be in.

Whether it was going with a man I didn’t know or my ‘friends’ whom were stealing guns, selling drugs and physically assaulting people.

Without sounding dramatic, I’m lucky I was never harmed.


I can recall him pouring me a drink to lighten the tension.

So I would relax.

He took me to his bedroom, undressed me, we had sex for a very short amount of time.

He demanded I look at him while he fucked me.

I can still hear “I want you to see who’s fucking you”

*insert barf emoji*

Maybe that’s why I don’t like to open my eyes during sex anymore..

I always made sure I was paid beforehand.

He finished and took me home quickly after.

I just remember thinking “I survived”, followed by the immense amount of guilt.

Shame.

SO much shame.


There is a lot of negativity based around women being promiscuous.

Women choosing what they want to do with their bodies.

Women whom can handle casual sex.

Let me tell you who can’t handle it: Men.

Men won’t bat one eye if they fuck two girls in a week but if a woman does it- she’s sleeping around too much.

Nothing makes men feel more inferior than a woman who is in control of her sex life.

HOW DARE SHE enjoy dick!

HOW DARE SHE sleep around!

HOW DARE SHE choose!

HOW DARE SHE cum!

That’s right boys, cum.

Did you know women cum?

Because I can tell you from the extensive research of my own self being sexually promiscuous, that the MAJORITY of guys do not know what the fuck they are doing when it comes to sexually satisfying a woman.

Where is the clit, guys?

East?

West?

Why do you watch porn if you won’t take tips into the bedroom?

Not that tip either.

Penetration is cool but, have you heard of foreplay?

Twiddle my nipple.

Smack my ass.

Pull my hair.

Eat me out without asking for 69.

Go slow.

Go sweet.

Don’t forget about my earlobes or my thighs.

If you have to ask if she came, she didn’t. Idiot.

Stop hyping your sex game if you’re only going to 6 pump chump me and cum immediately.

And if that does happen, does that mean sex is over?

You get yours but I won’t get mine?

Selfish.

This is the instance where men should be shamed.

“Yeah that’s right.

He fucked me like a lazy piece of shit and then rolled over and went to sleep.”


I met a few men while doing sugar daddy.

I did it long enough to pay my legal bills and then deleted my profile.

Married men, single men, men who have micro penises, men with fetishes, men who simply want human interaction.

Humans are biologically meant for connection.

You have to consider how powerful sexual connection can be.

Sure, it isn’t anyone’s responsibility to be there for a human sexually.

There are plenty of people in this world who will have to jump through hoops for human interaction or simply, pay for it.

Our world has made us very shallow and unfortunately none of us can turn a blind eye to it.

With all that being said, I don’t disagree with humans having the option to pay for sex.

It’s only illegal because the government can’t tax it.

Once I watched a video about a high end escort- I can’t remember what country she was in.

She had a website you could go to to select what you wanted, time and date, etc.

She made her entire living doing this, not a bad one either.

One of the things that stuck in my mind was, there was the option to add more intimate stuff like being held or having your hair played with.

How powerful is being intimate without sex?

Some of us have been there. I would like to say it’s something money can’t buy but she made it very achievable for these men.

I kind of admire her for it.

You read that right.

All humans deserve connection.

I had one guy in particular that I got along with well.

We could have a conversation or just go for dinner.

He taught me a lot about myself sexually.

Do I regret certain things?

Yes.

I have spent the last 8 years carrying around the burden of shame because of these choices.

I wish I would of been more cautious with my safety, other than that I am at peace with myself.

I was young and I forgive myself. I did what I had to in order to survive the phase of life I was in.

I know there’s not one person in this world who hasn’t done something they are ashamed of.

Something out of desperation.

This use to be a secret only my best friend knew.

This was a secret, years ago, I thought I would take to my grave.

This isn’t my secret anymore. It’s my truth.

It’s part of my story.

It shaped my young adult life.

And I’m not ashamed.

You’re not allowed to shame me.