Slightly different blog today, as this isn’t an extract from my (yet to be published) book, but a life update/ some fresh ramblings. In case you hadn’t guessed from the title, today is actually my birthday, today I am officially 36 years old; yay, well done me!
I’m not planning on doing anything productive today (other than writing this), no… today is reserved for contemplation and self-reflection; thinking about what I’ve achieved, what I’ve yet to achieve, and wondering where the hell the last 12 months have gone. I might even treat myself to a little cry and an afternoon nap, just because it’s my special day and I can.
They’ll be no partying or celebrating here, tonight I’ll be in my PJs by 6pm (assuming I get dressed at all), and in bed by 9pm with a book and a mug of hot chocolate; fuck it, I might even put my phone on airplane mode for a few hours. This may sound a bit tragic, but it’s my idea of heaven; and if you can’t do what you want on your birthday, then when can you….
Thankfully it’s just me and my daughter here today, so no-one has to witness my birthday induced anxiety. My daughter is celebrating her anniversary with her online boyfriend, which totally trumps her Mum having survived another year; so, she’ll be spending most of her evening on her laptop in her room anyway.
Don’t worry, I have just come back from a few nights in Dublin with my regular sugar daddy where we celebrated in style, and on Thursday I’m heading up to Birmingham for an afternoon of shopping with another sugar daddy, so my birthday is not going unobserved. I may not feel the need to celebrate, but apparently other people do…
Am I where I thought I’d be at the age of 36; no, of course not. I’m single, living on a tiny boat (I moved onto a narrowboat), without any real career prospects. I’m still figuring out who I am and what I want to do with my life (all be it whilst having a great time in the process). I seriously thought I’d have my life sorted by the age of 30 though, but that didn’t happen (not even close) so 40 is my new 30. I’ve got four years to get my shit together; maybe I’m a late bloomer… let’s hope so!
My main goal is to publish my book, however I’m yet to find a literary agent; I’ve had two agents requesting the full manuscript though, so hopefully it’s just a matter of time. Yes, I know I could self-publish, but that costs money and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, and I’d probably fuck it up; so, I wait, hoping that someone reads my book and thinks it’s worth a shot. In the meantime, book number two is being written, as I need something to do other than check my inbox every 5 minutes.
Obviously, I have my sugar daddies to keep me busy and pay my bills whilst I’m waiting, for which I’m eternally grateful; and I must say that I’m absolutely smashing it in terms of work/life balance at the moment.
What is my 37th year on this planet going to have in store for me, fuck knows…. Ideally a six-figure publishing deal, a best-selling book, and Netflix harassing me for movie rights… I’d also quite like to fall in love, ideally with someone who owns a nice house with a big comfy bed; we’ll rescue cats and possibly have a dog. I think that’s all, surely that’s not too much to ask…
I’m well aware that growing old is a privilege, not that I’m particularly old, but you know what I mean. I’m also lucky that all my bits work (most of the time anyway) and I’m in relatively good shape, although I do have to watch what I eat and exercise now, which sucks; you can’t have it all though…
Anyway, can’t sit here writing all day, I have an existential crisis to organise.
I’ll be back soon, when normal service will be resumed.
Emily-Rose xxx
*In case you’re interested in what I’m reading at the moment, I’m reading ‘In Pursuit of Happiness by Stacey Duguid’. It’s not a bad book, but not as good as mine; just saying…
Once I realised that I could make money from being a sugar baby and do so consistently, I also realised that I’d have to register as self-employed and declare my earnings to HMRC. I’m a good girl after all and believe in contributing to society and paying taxes, plus I had a lot of cash which I needed to pay into the bank. I put it off for as long as possible though, as I do with anything important; it was on my to-do list but never got done.
By the time I got my act together I’d missed the deadline for one tax year and was worried about being fined. I’d put it off because I wanted to make sure I was claiming all the expenses I could; but weren’t exactly sure what these were and how to find out. Whilst I appreciate the need to pay taxes, I wasn’t going to pay more then needed; I work too hard to be fucked by the government, I may be a whore, but not for them…
Anyway, I had questions about ‘use of home’ etc, so reluctantly decided to seek professional advice. A friend recommended a local accountancy firm that could offer me some, so when I couldn’t put it off any longer, I picked up the phone to ask for help.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to say but decided that honesty was the best policy. Putting on my best phone voice, I explained to the receptionist that I was a newly registered sole-trader and needed some advice re my first year’s tax return. She asked the question I knew she would ask, but hadn’t prepared for, which was “what sort of business are you running”.
I wasn’t sure what to say, so mumbled something about being a sugar baby, and hoped she wouldn’t ask me to elaborate. Thankfully, she was very professional and didn’t skip a beat; as if what I’d said was perfectly normal, and something she came across all the time. She said she’d pass on my details to the partner who dealt with new businesses, who’d email to arrange a meeting. She mentioned that it wouldn’t be for a few days as he was quite busy; yet first thing the next morning I received an email inviting me in for a face-to-face consultation. Curiosity got the better of him I think; amazing how you can clear your diary when you want to…
Having experience in accountancy, I’d already itemised every business-related expense onto a spreadsheet, each entry cross-referenced to my bank statements; every sex toy, bottle of lube, STI test kit and item of sexy underwear. Anything I’d purchased over the previous 15 months that could be considered a business expense was included. I’d also listed all my income; everything made through OnlyFans, nude modelling and my sugar baby work. I sent over a copy for him to check out ahead of our meeting, hoping that he’d be impressed by my beautiful presentation and meticulous record keeping; which of course he was (I’m an accountant’s wet dream).
I also did my homework on him, checking out the firm’s website and doing some online investigating/ light stalking. Never one to miss an opportunity, I wanted to check whether he was my target demographic; you never know where you might find your next sugar daddy. Unfortunately, he was young, wearing a wedding ring, and far too attractive to need to pay for sex. I dressed up anyway, aiming for ‘successful businesswoman with her shit together, who’d hitch up her skirt and let you fuck her over the desk if you asked nicely’; a look I totally nailed.
He obviously knew very little about the world of sugar babies and escorts, so naturally had lots of questions. He was keen to find out what I meant by ‘services rendered’, and what exactly I did as a sugar baby. I was blunt (as always) and told him that the money I received was payment for my company and my body (sex); which made him look uncomfortable and prompted the question as to whether that was even legal. I assured him that it was, after all, I wouldn’t be seeking professional advice if what I was doing was illegal…
To clarify, prostitution is legal in the UK, it’s perfectly legal to pay someone for sexual services; what isn’t legal is running a brothel or soliciting on street corners, which I don’t do (well not intentionally anyway).
Once we cleared that up, he was actually very helpful and reassured me that I didn’t need an accountant, I was perfectly capable of doing it myself. Being a small business, I could claim a flat £1,000 in business expenses without needing to itemise or keep records of any of my outgoings. Claiming anything else would be more hassle than it was worth and could leave me open to some awkward questions from HMRC; and the last thing I needed was them sniffing around asking me to prove that my sex toys etc are used exclusively for the business, because obviously they’re not…
As promised, the process of filing my return was fairly straight forward, although I guess it has to be. The only difficult part was deciding what to state as my occupation, how to sum up what I did in one word. In the end, I went with ‘escort’, although I could have put something more ‘socially acceptable’. Putting escort seemed funny though, and a middle finger up to society; I’m not ashamed of what I do, so fuck it.
Over the last few years, I’ve discovered that I enjoy being self-employed. Yes, there are disadvantages; If I’m ill I can’t work and earn money, and if something happens then it’s up to me to deal with it etc. Some months can be unpredictable, but there’s something about living on the edge that appeals to me, knowing that whether I fail or succeed is down to me; being in control over where, when and how I work, and how much I feel like working that week. I get a thrill from chasing money and pushing myself to earn as much as I can; I find it exciting.
I’m careful with my money though, and have some savings; so, if I’m tired and rundown, I can take some time off without worrying too much. Maybe if I didn’t, and I was living hand to mouth each month, I wouldn’t find it so exciting.
Anyway, having been self-employed for a while now, I struggle to imagine being employed; having to be at work at a certain time, and being told what to do etc, working my ass off to make someone else lots of money… (fuck that). Obviously, this may change, as I may go back into employment one day; but it would need to be somewhere flexible, doing something I believe in which benefits society. I’d also want to be work for a company that’s passionate about what they do, values their employees and isn’t just about making money; which let’s face it, narrows it down considerably.
I guess you might be wondering how much money I make; the answer to which is not as much as you might think, and not as much as many of you reading this. Having said that, I only work a few nights a week and the odd afternoon: eating, drinking, fucking, and generally having a good time, and am free to do whatever for the rest of the week; hence how I have time to write….
I earn more being self-employed then I did working for other people though, but then I never stuck at anything, so never made it up the ‘corporate ladder’ anywhere; I always got bored and restless.
Hopefully I can continue to work for myself for a while yet, as I much prefer working with people than for them.
I was rather late to the game (see what I did there) being 32 when I became a sugar baby. This is a bit old for many of the men on the site, and I knew that I’d be competing with younger, attractive women in their late teens and early 20s; nevertheless, there is a market for sugar babies in their 30s and older. A lot of sugar daddies preferring someone more mature with a bit of life experience; I guess it also looks less pervy too.
My first venture into the sex industry was on a sex chatline, which is when my sexy alter-ego Emily-Rose was created. I was 28 at the time, studying for a degree, trying to balance studying with work and parenthood, and struggling financially. I wanted an easy and flexible way to make money from home, and obviously the first thing you think about in that situation is phone sex, right…. No? Just me then…fine ok.
Working on a sex chatline is a job that’s both easy and hard, and interesting and boring at the same time; a real oxymoron of a job. It was an eye-opening experience though and I learnt a lot about the unusual sexual desires and fantasies that men keep hidden for fear of being judged (or arrested); as well as how to embrace my own sexuality and use my imagination to turn men on and get them excited.
At the end of the day, it’s just a game; keep the other person on the line as long as possible, to earn as much money as you can… simple. A balancing act, keeping them turned on and interested, without getting them so excited that they come, because the moment they do you’re no longer required, and they hang up; most of the time without even saying thank you, or goodbye… so rude!
Working on the chatline I learnt not only how to talk dirty and role-play, but also how to waffle on about random crap, as many of the guys calling just wanted someone to talk to. I’d say around 50% of the men I spoke to were using sex chatlines because they were lonely; they didn’t want phone sex, they just wanted company. For some men their conversations with me were more like therapy, I was just a random person on the end of the phone they could talk to; a safe place to say how they were feeling.
Whilst working on the chatline I did just about everything, including lots of things I shouldn’t have; I indulged every fantasy imaginable, and some you really wouldn’t want to imagine… Although as bizarre and niche as some of the requests are, it gets a bit repetitive after a while, and after about five months I decided I couldn’t hack it any longer. I think there’s only so long you can do this job for, and I‘d reached my limits. Hats off to the girls who do it full-time though, they’re not paid enough for what they do! It wears away at your soul, and if you’re not careful will destroy any positive feelings you have towards men; it’s very much a one-way process, you give and they take, and I’m just too selfish for that!
The sex chatline was a gateway drug though, I now identified as someone who’d worked in the ‘sex industry’ and had no issue doing so. I felt sexually deviant, and like nothing could shock me. I’d gone over to the dark side; my eyes had been opened, and I couldn’t unsee what I’d seen (or unheard what I’d heard I guess).
My next venture into the industry came a few years later when I joined OnlyFans. I’d heard about the site and was attracted by the idea of making some extra money (bit of a theme here). I’d taken a pay-cut to follow my passion and work in a secondary school supporting students with anxiety and other issues, and was worried about making ends meet.
I was curious about the site, so set up a page reviving my alter-ego Emily-Rose. I didn’t think anything would come of it, yet gradually over time I managed to build up subscribers and make a bit of money. Nowhere near as much as I wanted, but then I was struggling to get decent photos and couldn’t promote my page anywhere because of my job. To make it work you need to be committed, posting every day, continuously making content; it’s not as easy as you think!
Whilst I enjoyed the creativity, I eventually got bored (…again) and started posting less. I don’t have the body of a model, and there’s only so many ways I can photograph myself. I mean, I got some nice pictures of my pussy, but once you’ve seen it, there isn’t much more to see….
Despite the negative discussions around social media and body image, I feel like OnlyFans helped boost my self-esteem; as despite all the stunning women on the site, I still received my fair share of compliments and admirers. I knew I couldn’t compete directly with the surgically enhanced models whose bodies hadn’t been through the ordeal of childbirth, so I embraced this and marketed myself as a ‘yummy mummy’ with a real body; natural and flawed, but still sexy. A lot of the men on the site appreciated the unfiltered realness that I was giving them, and I loved the comments and attention, and the buzz I got every time someone paid for a message or post; or sent me a tip.
I was still working as a student support worker when curiosity (and alcohol) got the better of me, and I signed up to my first sugar daddy site. I had my day job (which I loved) and would see men on the weekends and during the holidays; occasionally posting the odd photo or video onto my OnlyFans page. It worked well and everything was fine. until the school found out about my OnlyFans account, when I was forced to out myself by an ex-boyfriend. I was immediately suspended and eventually forced to resign for apparently breaking my contract, which wasn’t true (but that’s another story). Thankfully the school gave me a good reference, so I was able to get a job in another school; but it wasn’t the same. I was miserable and couldn’t get over what I’d lost, and the feeling that I’d let my students down.
The police had to get involved due to the threatening nature of my ex’s messages, and I wasn’t in a great place, so starting again was really the last thing I needed. A few months into my new job, my ex-boyfriend, who’d taken so much away from me, sadly took his own life; it was absolutely devastating! I was signed off work as was in no fit state to help anyone, and whilst I tried going back, every time I did, I just started crying; it was all too much. By this time, I’d built up enough business that I didn’t need a day job, so thought ‘fuck it’. I’d lost the only other job I’d really enjoyed, but to be honest, I’d had enough of working for other people for peanuts anyway, so decided to leave my job and go it alone. I initially thought it would just be for a few months, until I got myself back on my feet; yet now years later here I am, working full-time as a sugar baby and very happy to be doing so.
Hopefully this gives you a bit of an idea as to ‘my journey’ (blah), and how I ended up doing what I’m doing; in many ways it was just the next step on the path I’d been exploring. Yes, some shit things happened along the way, and maybe if it hadn’t been for my ex I’d still be working in schools and doing this on the side, but that obviously wasn’t meant to be. I still think about the kids I used to work with, but I don’t think I’d want to go back now, not whilst I’m having so much fun.
I realise that this blog took a dark turn, so apologies for that, especially if you’ve found it upsetting, or been personally affected by its contents. I thought very carefully about whether to share what happened with my ex, and whether it was respectful to do so; however, it was such a big part of my story and had such a big impact on my journey to becoming a sugar baby, that I felt I should.
I can’t begin to express the devastation that losing someone to suicide has, and I don’t think it’s something you ever truly get over. It’s really driven home the importance of being happy, and how fragile life can be; life’s too short to be doing something you don’t enjoy.
For a long time, I was very angry at my ex, and blamed him for lots of things, but I’ve been able to forgive him now; he was ill, and didn’t know what he was doing. Desperate people do desperate things, and he was clearly a very desperate man. It was my choice to do OnlyFans, and my choice to tell the school about it when he laid down the ultimatum, so I must take responsibility for my actions.
If you are suffering from depression, please don’t suffer in silence, please reach out and get the support you need. There is so much help out there, don’t be afraid to ask for it.
Sugar and Spice 