A Spot Of Me

Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, I left my job as a ‘happy ending’ masseuse, which basically entails getting undressed, giving a client a massage and then giving him a hand-job. Note that I was not a prostitute offering sex or blowjobs in exchange for money. I was a prostitute of a different kind, the kind who offered sexual services but never went all the way. You can learn more details about my job description here.

During this time I learned a lot from these men (mostly married men). In this vulnerable, naked environment, many of the guys would open up and talk about their lives, their marriages. They would talk about rejection from their wives, the lack of affection, the lack of sex. Some clients would request a hug from me because they weren’t getting it from their wives. Some clients offered me money to kiss them (I never took them up on that offer).

I learned quite a bit about men doing that job for about 3 years, having massaged close to a thousand unique clients. But the job became too much for me and I had to leave for my own sanity. It was a physically and emotionally taxing job, as I had to deal with a lot of needy men, some of whom were borderline psychotic. You either have to be on drugs, be extremely sexual, be insane yourself, or have a very strong constitution to do a job like that for very long. I’ve seen many penises on a very intimate, hands-on level, and it made me realize just how different each and every individual penis is (and the man behind it).

So jobless, and to fill the boredom, I started writing and writing. And writing. About men, women, relationships - whatever came to mind - I felt compelled to write it all down. It wasn’t a book per se, but rather a record of my observations. I look back on that and realize that my past job may have contributed to my inability to get hired, or to be employed in a normal job for long periods of time. There must’ve been something off about me, something that my interviewers could sense, that they wouldn’t hire me.They could probably smell my insecurity. Jobs in the sex industry can do that to some of us. We don’t know how to handle the normal world after that. My massage job changed me forever, perhaps for the worst. This partly explains why I’m currently unemployed and therefore have time to run this blog.

So now I’m here, damaged, jaded, and still trying to move on from the past. This blog is a collection of what I wrote in that difficult time, as well as my current musings. Due to the personal nature of this blog, names and specifying details will be changed. In all other cases, this blog is entirely truthful in accordance to the truth as I perceive it.

I’ve started to publish a few stories of my personal accounts as a masseuse on this blog, but in some cases I have found it to be very difficult. It washes memories ashore that I’d rather keep buried deeply. I will post these stories as I start feeling stronger and therefore have no concrete plans for this blog. I’ll simply take it as it comes, one entry at a time.

You can read my first blog entry here.

Where it all began...