Priveleged White Men

You’re not the first to make the mistake of thinking I’m more than I am. Even I believed it for a minute. I’m flattered, truly, but this was never gonna be personal. How did you miss my insistence on service, on being the one to do the work? A challenge! he thinks. An insurmountable one, I assert. This is my job. 

 But you push and push until I’m backed into a corner, and then what do you expect? If you’ve got the money and you say that what you want is me, I’m gonna give you a version of it, albeit watered-down and disengaged. That’s where you get all confused though, cuz what’s coming out of my mouth is, “I now happily commence dying alone,” and what’s coming off my lips is electric. Stick around, I’ll let you for a fee, and maybe you’ll get to see the raw parts of me, maybe I’ll stop diluting myself so much, and you’ll be satisfied. But baby, no matter how much of me you get, I will walk away the moment I am no longer served by your presence.

See, you’re experiencing this thing in a very different way than I am. You’re into me, and with some volition have chosen me as the one to be into. You think about me when you wake up, enough that you’d sincerely like, you say, to send me a Good Morning text and let me know it. You think about me when shit gets tough, all good and wise as you think I am; what would my glowing green eyes see? What would my vibrant red mouth say? Let me take a swing at it, bet you, “Haven’t met anyone like me in a while.” Or are you an “Ever,” kind of guy?

Flattered, truly, but then you do that thing that they all do right after. Cuz if I’m too good for this,  surely I don’t want your money, right? And if I do want your money, cuz you booked me and those were my fucking working hours, you’re gonna have to make me feel like I’m the “this” you just said I wasn’t. And then I’m gonna let you keep your money, because I’ve got too much pride to let you reduce me to “this,” no matter what I am.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: Every single woman in this industry is more than, “this.”

So you flatter me to rob me twice: First of the money that I need to pay my rent and raise my children, second of my self-respect. All cuz I’m too good.

Fuck you. Let me say this very clearly, so it’s not misunderstood again later. I am a whore. I am a shy whore, a hand whore that’s hard to fuck, but a fucking whore. That’s all I am. That’s all this is. Please, for both our sakes, don’t you forget it.

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