Sex work, Narcissists and Their Common Denominator: Me

Vna Hernandez
Nov 7 · 7 min read
Photo by ian dooley on Unsplash

When you’re young, life can be a struggle, like some tough math equation. For as long as I can remember, women in my friend group often thought this, and their solution? They’d throw out the classic line: “Fuck it! I’ll drop out and start stripping!”

Contrast that with what so many people think of stripping — that taking your clothes off for money is easy. But, it isn’t. It’s sex work. It’s underground labor with benefits, dangers and loopholes.

It’s a line of work that is ominous and obscure. Look at our society — the majority deems it as trashy and unworthy of respect. Yet, those who do it still capitalize. How? Off illusion and male-hyped fantasy. Think back on one of the catchiest songs that came out this year, My Type by Saweetie: You the type that’s fuckin’ for the rent.

Follow along as we analyze this lyric.

First, notice that it insinuates a superiority complex, that sex work doesn’t require much effort, nor being a sugar baby a tough lifestyle. For the most part, that’s accurate.

You might even say this line of work is full of lazies or people seeking convenience. What that line of logic fails to realize is sexworkers do their job out of necessity, not comfort.

Now, here’s my personal experience and what I learned during my time as a sexworker.

When I graduated college, I was hit with a wave of anxiety. I had no plan. No job offers. Panic set in.

My solution?

I moved back to where I came from — San Diego — as a last ditch effort, thinking that living in a big city meant greater odds for job hunting.

I was partially correct.

A big city did mean a larger job pool but it also meant a larger pool of applicants.

My search, thus, took serious rigor. I applied everywhere that asked for skills even somewhat similar to mine. That meant officework or saleswork.

I had success — sort of. The job I scored was only an unpaid internship.

(THESE ARE SCAMS. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A SIGN, AN UNPAID INTERNSHIP ISN’T IT.)

I also had luck with a part-time restaurant job, but minimum-wage labor isn’t where I wanted my life to head. Nonetheless I will recognize that working in the service industry taught me more about life and the importance of working well with others than four years of college/internships, so tip your fucking servers assholes.

So, like the persistent self-critic that I am, these what-I-considered setbacks began weighing me down. My self-confidence dropped, and I became complacent.

I took the restaurant job as a server, and at one point, stopped my passion altogether. That being writing.

What was my next move, then? Sex work.

Working as a server, I’d an endless amount of self-hatred and drank as well as went out constantly. Eventually, my situation changed and I found myself some luck. There was a sugar baby at the time, whom I became acquainted with. Then, when we became friends, she generously introduced me to her own contacts — those in “high society.”

Want to guess who these people were?

I’m talking top dealers, top lawyers and others — in other words, very wealthy, powerful men.

For any of you that are avid astrology people. My friend — like the true Pisces she was — was adamant about helping me get my life together. Simple enough, she did by finding me decent “sponsors,” who saved me stress and helped pay off my loans for a short period of time.

With the suitors I had to choose from, there were a few encounters, equipped with paying for trips to-and-from to see them as well as promises to pay bills I needed paid. Here are my conclusions about what these men were like.

1. THESE MEN CAN CARE LESS ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS.

Upon first encounters, they whisper sweet-nothings into your ear. They promise a solution to all your problems. They even put you on a pedestal, calling you sweet-little-princess baby and saying they will never desert you.

They’re lying.

The second you show emotion, rather it be you distraught or something else, you become an inconvenience. They mistake you for something less than a living, breathing person, thinking you are irrational when responding to their objectifying tactics. When they think this about you, they drop you and replace you.

For example, my first sugar daddy won me over with luxurious trips and a promising future. He ensured that for everything there was a solution. He swooped in like Hercules promising to pay off my loans and offered to put me through law school.

But, as soon as I had my first meltdown and panic attack, he revoked his offer. His tone changed and he stated he had a fear of commitment. Helping me with school was a part of that. Next, I had to be okay with the fact that he was married. He only answered emails, questions and phone calls, thus, when he had the time away from family. There was no respect for me, but I had to keep in-mind his busy schedule.

It was his world, and I was the sexy lamp living in it.

2. YOU NEED TO BE PERFECT. ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES.

Unfortunately, these are men paying for your company. They are extremely picky. They want you to not only be young (and hot) but to have somewhat of a brain. Although, that brain of yours shouldn’t be so big that they feel inferior.

Essentially, These men want to feel like a knight in shining armor, albeit they are bald and have a beer belly. Oh, they also couldn’t sprint up a hill if their life depended on it. You must accept that they can critique everything about you — from your body to your very existence. God forbid you make remarks about their receding hairline or dorky footwear.

So, I began my search on SeekingArrangements.com. Don’t go there. Men there are disgusting and picky and most of them are not even wealthy enough to be making these suggestions in the first place. Here are some of their qualifications. . . Can you match them?

  • Height: Not taller than them.
  • Weight: Preferably under 130 lbs.
  • Life-style: Not a huge party girl but a social drinker.
  • Body: No visible tattoos. Everything must be perky.
  • Relationship: No strings attached. No questions asked.

Why would they want you to meet all this criteria? In case you’d escort them to an important event, of course. The no strings attached requirement, however, is obvious. Your sugar daddy is almost always married or wants to use you as a living, breathing motel sexroom.

These men have horrible communication skills. Everything they say is vague, and they will only reach out when necessary.

As you saw before, by my own example, you need to be stable-minded. Or else your mental capacity will deplete due to their constant gaslighting. These men don’t want a “whiny” twenty-four year-old that overthinks the situation. They want a hot, submissive and non-challenging, naive trophy.

3. FUCK THEM IF THEY THINK OF IT AS A TRANSACTION.

Most men won’t want reminding that they’re paying for sex. They don’t talk about money upfront. They want to “get to know you” before that.

It’s basically an unpaid internship.

They will wait until you propose any type of consolation. If you’re not smart, they will get nudes, sex and whatever else for free and upfront.

However, even if you are smart and ask right away — BAM — you’re a golddigger. And, all you say is nothing — you only think, “What do you expect, old man?”

The start of the search for a sugar daddy was exciting. I was fresh and enthusiastic about it. It seemed simple, and I was on top of the world. Great offers sprouted up left-and-right. But, soon, I went on dates. I asked for adequate payment, and they refused.

Want to know their idea of a sugar baby?

They thought I’d be a hot young girl who they’d have sex with and spoil, like buying clothes or lingerie. I came to find out that these men don’t want to help you. Their bottom-line is wanting to sleep with you in exchange for meager negotiations.

One latest contender was a sixty year-old grandpa who sent sexually explicit videos off-the-bat. He expected immediate reciprocation and promised to mentor me through school. His offer, though, was $150 per week and nothing more, plus we had to be exclusive.

For me to speak out — to expect anything more — would have been “high-maintenance.”

Why?

It’s not even a living wage. He was repulsive.

Overall, my time as a sexworker was a learning experience. At times it was degrading but also taught me valuable life lessons.

I learned the value of my time. Most of those men were willing to drop a good amount for an evening of my presence.

It taught me to value and love myself while setting healthy boundaries in friendships and relationships.

Lastly, it taught me to analyze and adjust my approach on life — that is, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Vna Hernandez

Written by

Aspiring writer, house music enthusiast and devoted dog mom!

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