The online diary of a gay courtesan.

I have been blogging consistently now for almost two years – next month will be my “cotton” anniversary… Somehow that seems a bit underwhelming, but what can you do? But third years are evidently celebrated with leather, so here’s hoping I get that far with this site.

In all this time I have been very open about the challenges, pleasures, obstacles, advantages, and other facets of doing what I do. And I don’t have any regrets about that at all. I wouldn’t change any of it (and I don’t, even when I write something that I later feel embarrassed about on some level). It’s all right here. That is part and parcel with the whole reason I blog.

I have generally embraced wholeheartedly the scenario that is being single. I love it. I do. Tremendously! I even plan to marry myself on my birthday in 2012. I have the ring from Tiffany’s picked out, I will have a tux tailor made, and I will have a ceremony with friends and family present. I truly enjoy singledom. In all of 2008 I think my only lapse was Kenny. In 2009 I met Allen and Steve. But I have grown to appreciate them as people, even though they weren’t what I thought they were supposed to be. They are their own men, and they have to be accepted as they are (just as I ask people to do of me). But both of them were easy to discount as potential partners, because they live far from me.

But what to do… There’s the potential to know someone better right here where I live. This is a first in three years. Since I left my last boyfriend I have not run into the possibility of a partner right in my own back yard. He has very reasonable expectations about a standard relationship. He desires monogamy, and doesn’t understand how a person cheats if he’s in love.

Sigh.

But that template works in a world that doesn’t exist!! I would just leave him as a fuckbuddy who could’ve been more, but I get the distinct impression that this is a scenario that won’t stay as it is (because he won’t let it). In the interest of preserving friendship if the potential romance sours, of defining boundaries in case a relationship develops despite my career, and of being upfront about the various pitfalls that may be waiting… I have to tell him what I do.

I’m not ashamed of my life or of my career. I do fear that he won’t understand. And there is some nervousness on my part that he will reject me out of hand (but then that won’t be a bad situation if I get out of a relationship with someone who won’t accept all of me). However, he will eventually find out, and I would much prefer to be the one to tell him. I think I will watch “Dangerous Beauty” with him, and then ask him his thoughts about this achingly beautiful movie.

I just want to be left in peace with my cat, my blog, and my short-lived trysts. Oh hell… I’m actually hoping he can handle the truth. People say they want honesty, but it seems that relationships last based on what you DON’T tell people.

EDIT: See part 2 of this story… See part 3 of this story…

Well, boys and girls… how about that rant yesterday? Whew. Well, I feel better…

But now I need to take a moment to come back to center and recognize that although there are people who (without necessarily planning it) frustrate, anger, and hurt me, there are so many others who soothe me and make me feel loved. Thank you for your many kindnesses…

Before I got sidetracked by a thoroughly discouraging week in Atlanta, I was sharing excerpts of my favorite novel, “The Last of the Wine” by Mary Renault. Here we see Alexias (the narrator) with his lover/friend Lysis preparing for the battle that would ultimately dislodge the The Thirty (a group of tyrants who were put in control by the Spartans after Athens was defeated in the Pelopennesian War). This selection is relevant to me just now, because it offers a nice prayer that reminds me (in a way) of the Serenity Prayer:

Just before the trumpet, Lysis and I stood on the walls, and looked down the Cleft of the Chriot, to see Athens shine, clear gold picked out with shadows, in the slanting winter sun. I turned to him and said, “You look sad, Lysis. It has been good here, but we are going to be better.”

He smiled at me and said, “Amen, and so be it.” The he was silent for a time, looking out at the High City, and leaning on his spear.

“What is it?” I said; for my mind was full of memories, which I felt he shared.

“I was thinking,” he said, “of the sacrifice just now, and of how one ought to pray. It is right for men setting out on a just enterprise to commend it to heaven. But for oneself… We have entreated many things of the gods, Alexias. Sometimes they gave, and sometimes they saw it otherwise. So today I petitioned them as Sokrates once taught us:

‘All-Knowing Zeus, give me what is best for me. Avert evil from me, though it be the thing I prayed for; and give me the good which from ignorance I do not ask.’”

Before I could reply to him, the trumpet sounded, and we went down to the gate…

Mary Renault is, along with Isabel Vandervelde, my favorite writer of historical fiction. Renault wrote her books based in Ancient/Classical Greece during the 1950′s, so although her work is already amazing enough for its literary value, it becomes even more impressive because of how she treated Pederasty and Pedagogy (the training of young men by older men to be honorable citizens). It was an important matter, and a father wanted a good friend (erastes) for his son (eromenos) as much as he wanted a good suitor for his daughter.

At any rate, I bring this up, because I reread “The Last of the Wine” every year or two. During my flight out to San Diego and back I had alot of time. I read the book again, getting ever more from it than I did before (but that is almost always the case with art: there are layers upon layers to sift). The nuances that I was too young or too inexperienced to understand before become clearer, and I fell in love with the characters all over again. The portion that I want to discuss focuses on the dialogue between Alexias (the main character and narrator) and Sokrates (yes, THE Sokrates): What is the price of finding and keeping a true and honourable lover?

I spoke in anger, for my heart was sore. The truth is that I was getting to an age when one wishes for love, and has one’s own ideas of what it ought to be; and I was ceasing to believe that what I sought was anywhere to be found.

“By the way,” Sokrates said, “what do you dislike so much about Polymedes? He looks undistinguished, of course, compared with a man like Charmides, and his father made his money in leather. Is it his vulgarity, or what?”

“No, Sokrates. That too I daresay; but in himself he is base. He tried first to buy me with gifts; not flowers or a hare, but the kind of thing we can’t afford at home. Then he sent word that he was dying, to make me take him out of pity; and now, what is surely as low as a man can go, he is willing I should do it simply to keep him quiet. If I were to lose my father and mother and all I have, if I were disgraced even before the City so that people turned from me in the street, he would be glad of it, if it put me within his reach. And this he calls love.” I had spoken too vehemently, but Sokrates still looked at me kindly; so coming at last to what had been behind the rest, I said, “I shall always think worse of myself for having been his choice.”

He shook his head. “You are wrong, my boy, if you think he is seeking a kindred spirit. He is looking for what he lacks, being limp of soul, and not wishing to know that the good must first be wrought with toil out of a man’s own self, like the statue from the block. So now I think you need the advice of someone who understands these questions.”

I was about to say, “Whose, Sokrates?” when a great noise of hammering reminded us that we were approaching the Street of the Armourers. Since the news from Sicily, they were busy again. We turned aside, to be heard without shouting. “I suppose,” Sokrates said, “you will be ordering armour for yourself before another year is up, so fast time flies. Where will you go for it?”

“To Pistias, if I can afford his price. He’s very dear; nine or ten minas for a horseman’s suit.”

“So much? I suppose you will get a gold device on the breastbone for that?”

“From Pistias? Not if you gave him twelve; he won’t touch them.”

“Kephalos would make you something to catch the eye.”

“Well, but Sokrates, I might need to fight in it.” He laughed, and paused.

“I see,” he said, “that you are a judge of value, though so young. Perhaps you can tell me, then, who am getting too old to know much of such matters, what price one ought to pay for a true and honourable lover?” I wondered what he could take me for, and answered at once that one ought to pay anything.

He looked at me searchingly, and nodded his head. “An answer worthy, Alexias, of your father’s son. Yet many things have their price which are not upon the market. Let us see if this is one of them. If we come into the company of such a lover, it seems to me that one of three things will happen. Either he will succeeed in making us his equal in honor; or, if he fails both to do this and to free himself from love, seeking to please us he will become less good than he was; or, if he is of stronger mind, remembering what is due to the gods and to his own soul, he will be master of himself, and go away. Or can you see some other conclusion than these?

“I don’t think, Sokrates,” I said, “that there can be another.”

“So, then, it now appears, does it not, that the price of an honourable lover is to be honourable ourselves, and that we shall neither get him nor keep him, if we offer anything less?”

“It seems so, certainly,” said I, thinking it kind of him to be at so much pains to keep my mind from my troubles.

“And thus,” he said, “we find that what we thought was to be had for love turns out the costliest of all. You are fortunate, Alexias; for I think it is still within your means. But see, we are walking past our destination.”

We had just passed the portico of the Archon King, and were outside Tuareas’ palaestra. Not wishing to trouble him with my company out of season, I asked if he was meeting a friend. “Yes, if I can find him. But don’t go, Alexias. I am only looking for him to put your case before him. He happens to be much better qualified than I to help you.”

I knew his modesty; but having resolved to deal with Polymedes at once, I did not feel eager to spend the rest of the morning being improved by Protagoras or some other venerable Sophist; so I assured Sokrates that he himself had done me as much good as anyone could, except a god. “Oh?” he said. “Yet I believe you don’t consider me infallible; I noticed just now that you thought more of Pistias’ opinion than mine.”

“Only about armour, Sokrates. Pistias is an armourer, after all.”

“Just so. Wait, then, while I fetch my friend. He is usually wrestling here about this time.”

“Wrestling?” I said staring; Protagoras was reckoned to be at least eighty years old. “Who is this friend, Sokrates? I thought…”

“Wait in the garden,” he said; and then just as he was turning to go, “We will try Lysis, son of Demokrates.”

I believe that I gasped aloud, as if he had emptied a water-jar over me…

Someone, I believe it was Curt, asked me how honest I am on my blog: Pretty damn honest. I have friends worry that I tell too much. But how else am I to fulfill the mission of this blog? What would be the point of undermining one series of misconceptions by creating new ones?

I treat this writing space the same way I treat a dance studio and a theater stage: It is a space for me to share myself with people who are interested in what I have to say. I create performance art based on autobiographical material. Intimates in my audiences will shake their heads at the details I reveal in my work. But I am accustomed to being naked in front of audiences. I don’t have anything to lose or to hide. I’m not running for public office (I’ve been far too forthright about my life to ever be able to do that in the United States… a pity, since transparency would be a welcome change in our politicians).

So, to put this issue to rest: The only agenda I have on this website is to encourage patrons to see adult entertainers as people. I am faulted. I have talents. I am strong in some ways, but weak in others. I like people, even though many of them hurt me, and if I tell you what I’ve experienced, then you can bank on its being real. One of the observations I ran into at UCLA: The same professor who said I was “begrudgingly brilliant” also noted that my stories sound like fairy tales, not only because I’ve had an interesting life, but because I enjoy the telling as much as the living.

There comes a time in any career when you have to start considering how you will make your exit (Here are some ideas for careers that you can consider after leaving performance). I’m not talking about my own situation (although I’ll address that in a moment), but of a friend’s. He’s been doing adult entertainment for about two years now, and, honestly, that’s about as long as most people do it. I’d be willing to wager that if I did a survey, there would be a bell curve showing that the greatest number of people in the biz stay in it for two-three years. So, there’s nothing abnormal in having this conversation with someone.

What was interesting is that this person had forgotten about life’s options. He sat in silence for a moment when I said, “The career won’t change. Either you have to change your expectations, or you have to find new work.” I was a tad surprised when he responded with, “Wow. I mean… wow.”

He is the type of person who is happiest in a relationship, and has been dissatisfied since breaking up with his last partner. Relationships are more important to him than staying in his current work situation – he wasn’t able to connect with people, because of his career. People are willing to fuck strippers, but not willing to date us (which says more about them than us, to be frank).

And so, it is time for this person to transition out, so that he can find someone to date. That is his priority. He is going to save up his tips, go to school, start a new career, and look for a woman to bear him children. Such is the heterosexual’s world. It makes little sense to me, but it’s his life, not mine. We have to be happy in this world. That is paramount.

As for my own situation: My application to go back to school to become a Physical Therapy Assistant was rejected, because I “failed to meet minimum requirements.” Uh huh… Six months of jumping through flaming hoops for people who couldn’t read the lists of requirements in front of their faces, and it is I who fail to meet minimum requirements? I have to say I’m not all that put out – it was more rigmarole trying to get into this community college than getting into UCLA. I’d actually been figuring out how to get out of going back now, because I have a plan for getting out of debt that would have been completely undermined by being in classes.

So, it’s time for a different strategy. Both of my female roommates are moving in with their boyfriends when the current lease expires in September. I’ve not had my own place since 2003. I’ve lived with roommates for a long time now. I’m excited. Being in school would have complicated a move, so it’s another reason to be glad that this plan didn’t work. I’m happy that I’ll be free to do all of these life tasks without having to worry about missing a class session.

Also, I’ve decided to experiment with other modalities of adult entertainment. I’m exhausted of all the driving from club to club. I’m not interested in leaving the career, however. I am not done. I am still needed in the field, which probably sounds like an odd sentiment, but I have a carefully honed plan that I will share in about a year or so, when everything comes into fruition. It’s time to work smarter, not harder. I do not think I’m interested in becoming a sex worker. I wouldn’t want to do that unless I could successfully navigate being a gay courtesan of sorts. However, there are other options, and I will be flying to San Diego on May 6 in order to explore some opportunities there.