Sugar and Spice

Tag: Loneliness

  • The aftermath of sexual assault

    Throughout my years working as a sugar baby (/ glorified sex worker) I was never sexually assaulted or raped. Yes, I fucked guys I didn’t fancy because I was being paid to do so, there were guys I didn’t like that much and some that were frankly just gross; but I chose to see them and give them my body… 

    No, the great irony of the situation is that having worked in what some people consider a ‘dangerous’ or ‘unsafe’ profession for many years, my sexual assault was not at the hands (or penis) of a sugar daddy, but a group of complete strangers on a night out. 

    The incident happened just over a month ago. I wasn’t sure whether I’d write about it or not, and certainly wasn’t ready before, but now I am, so feel like I should. Afterall my whole ‘shtick’ is writing about sex, and being open about my experiences, so even though it’s not a ‘sugar baby experience’ per se, it’s been an experience for this sugar baby. 

    I won’t go into the gory details as I don’t remember a lot of what happened, plus there’s an ongoing investigation etc, so I’m not sure how much I can say anyway. I’m one of the lucky ones though as they’ve arrested and charged one of the men responsible; plus, two others who are currently MIA. The police have forensic evidence and hours of CCTV footage showing the ‘predatory’ behaviour of the men involved and are optimistic about getting a conviction; a rare outcome for sexual assault and rape which is either not reported, or doesn’t make it to court due to insufficient evidence or the victim dropping charges (it’s not an easy process for the victim to go through).  

    In my case I wasn’t the one who reported the assault. I was found in a state, lying half naked in a doorway, my knickers and tights round my ankles; the police were called and arrived within minutes. Would I have reported what happened? I don’t think so… I’d have felt disgusting and worthless, and like it was my fault; I’d have been too traumatised and ashamed by what had happened to have said anything. So I’m eternally grateful to the couple who found me and dialled 999, as although I’ve still experienced those feelings, I’ve been able to access to help and support. 

    I’m sure every woman feels differently after being raped, but no doubt many have felt some of the things I’ve felt and want to put into writing. These feelings come and go; it’s like grieving, you think you’re doing ok and then it hits you all over again. I have good and bad days, though thankfully more good than bad now.  

    These are just some of the things I’ve been feeling over the last month: 

    1. Guilt and shame, like it was somehow my fault; I’d been drinking, I’d lost my friend and my phone, I made myself vulnerable and therefore an easy target. I was wearing a short low-cut dress, showing off my curvy figure and had been dancing in a provocative manner (like there’s any other way to dance…). Had I been talking to these guys in the club? Had I been flirting with them? Had I given them the wrong idea? I don’t know… but I can’t help but feel like it’s somehow my fault. Of course, my rational brain knows it’s not. I may have been flirty and done all those things, but that doesn’t give anyone permission to take advantage of my situation and use my body the way they did. The police have made it very clear that it doesn’t matter how much you’ve had to drink, being drunk does not equal consent. I didn’t ask for or want to be raped, but as a woman I can’t help but feel guilty, like I somehow brought it upon myself. I know lots of women feel the same and it’s one of the many reasons why sexual assaults are not reported, which really sucks! 
    1. Embarrassed that I got myself into this situation (blaming myself again). I’m 36, for goodness sake, I know the world’s not a safe place; if I’m out by myself then I’m at risk of being attacked, so what was I thinking? For ages I was too embarrassed to tell people what happened because I thought they’d think I was stupid; and I felt stupid enough as it was. I was embarrassed about being labelled a ‘victim’, and that I created work for the police because I was unable to look after myself and keep myself safe. Surely this was something that happened to young naive girls, not ‘supposedly intelligent’ (older) women like me…  
    1. Weak and powerless. Before this happened, I thought I was invincible; a strong woman who could hold her own. If a man tried something on, I’d knee him in the balls and tell him to do one… yet I didn’t. I was unable to defend myself and realise I was an idiot to think I ever could. Obviously, you never know how you’re going to respond in these situations and sometimes people freeze, or just let things happen, which is what I must have done. There were no bruises on my body, no evidence of a fight, why didn’t I fight them off? Why did I let them do this horrible thing to me? The fact that there was several of them and only one of me makes me feel a bit better, I was clearly outnumbered. This experience has forced me to face reality and accept how weak and vulnerable I am though, which has really knocked my (somewhat misplaced) confidence. 
    1. Frustrated and confused. I don’t really remember what happened that night, I was either unconscious, or my brain has blocked it out (a common defence mechanism in traumatic situations). I remember a brief interlude between assaults, after one guy finished, and the next took his place. How can I remember this so clearly yet not what happened just before or after? I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve gone over the events of that evening, trying to remember something…anything that will help the police.  A week after the event I was required to do a recorded interview with the police which will act as my evidence in court. As helpful as I wanted to be, I felt like I let them down as I remember so little. I remember being picked up by the police and everything that happened to me at the station afterwards, but everything else is a blur. I knew at the time what had happened as I was crying and screaming hysterically about the fact that I‘d been raped. I was even able to give a vague description of the men involved, but now even that memory has faded. I remember that I remembered but that’s about it. 
    1. Anger… boy was I angry! I was angry at men and the whole fricking world for weeks afterwards. It was like everything every man had ever done to me; all the neglect, the abuse, every injustice and act of sexism I’d ever experienced had been brought to the surface and amplified. That night at the station I remember blurting out several times how horrible men were, how much I hated them, and repeatedly questioning how men were allowed to act this way; before apologising to the male police officer, who didn’t deserve a hard time. I knew this wasn’t how I really felt about men, but for ages afterwards I was just so angry. Angry that this had happened, angry that men could fuck up my life (again), angry that I’d been made to feel guilty and ashamed by what had happened, angry that men could go out by themselves and not worry about being raped,  angry that society was going to judge or blame me for what happened, angry at myself for making myself a victim, angry that I couldn’t turn to my family for support, angry that my daughter was having to deal with what was going on. The anger has faded over time, but my god was I angry! 
    1. Sad and depressed; I cried every day for the first few weeks after it happened. Whenever I was on my own I’d think about it and feel sad; at night I’d lie in bed sobbing. I couldn’t drink (alcohol that is) because I’d spiral into depression, when I wasn’t angry I was depressed. I had to resign from my job and spent days doing nothing but watch shit on Netflix, because I couldn’t cope with anything else. Thankfully me and depression are old friends, so I knew it would pass; I just needed to wallow in self-pity for a bit. I don’t feel so depressed now, but for a while it was really bad, and at times I didn’t know whether I could carry on; but I knew I had to, so I did. 
    1. Lonely and isolated. I didn’t know who to talk to, I couldn’t talk about it without crying anyway and didn’t want to burden my friends with something so heavy. How do you tell people that you were raped? It makes for an awkward conversation and puts the other person in the difficult position of having to respond appropriately. I didn’t want the guilt of making other people feel bad, I didn’t want kindness or sympathy as I didn’t feel like I deserved it, I didn’t want people to tell me how strong I was or how I was a ‘survivor’ because I felt anything but, and I couldn’t risk anyone saying anything negative or judgemental because I don’t think I would have coped (and may have punched them in the face).  I wasn’t sure what I wanted, other than for it to have not happened. There was nothing anyone could do or say to make me feel better, so what was the point. 
    1. Dirty, disgusting and disconnected from my body. I felt like my body had been violated and no longer belonged to me. I wanted to shower and scrub myself clean, to wash all traces of the evenings events off me but I wasn’t able to until I’d been examined and swabbed (not a pleasant experience). By the time I eventually got home I was exhausted so slept and when I woke no longer felt the urge to shower; I didn’t want to take my clothes off and deal with my body, it was bizarre. I was comfortable in the baggy grey joggers and jumper that the police had given me after taking my clothes as evidence; it’s like they’d become my safe place. When I did eventually shower, it was quick but thorough. When I had to venture out, I dressed down and tried to make myself small, I didn’t want any attention or for anyone to find me attractive, which is most unlike me. No, I wasn’t my usual confident sexy self at all; I lost my mojo, and I’m only just getting it back.     

    These are just some of the things I’ve been feeling, and it changes all the time. This week I’m feeling more hopeful and like there’s light at the end of the tunnel. It’s possible I may be able to get my job back, or if not then I’m sure something else will turn up. I’m going to get some therapy to help me deal with what’s happened and will be supported by my lovely ISVA (independent sexual violence adviser) when this thing eventually goes to court. Whilst I didn’t choose to be in this situation (what woman does), I feel like it’s important to speak out and get justice not only for me, but for all women who’ve experienced something similar.  

    No woman deserves to be sexually assaulted or raped, and there’s no excuse for men to treat women the way they treated me that night. The men involved in my case are young, not much older than my daughter. They showed a total disrespect towards women and are looking at custodial sentences as a result of their actions that night. Was it really worth it? The answer is and always will be no. 

    To any women reading this who have experienced sexual assault or rape, it’s ok not to feel like a survivor straight away, I think that comes in time, and I know I’m not quite there yet. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same person, but that’s ok; I’ll be a different (maybe even more awesome) me. 

    Apologies for being absent, I know this isn’t my usual style of blog, but this is life…. sometimes shit happens…  

    Take care and look after yourselves! 

    Emily-Rose xxx 

  • Sex and intimacy in older age

    Older people are often overlooked in terms of their need for sexual and physical intimacy. I certainly assumed that people of a certain age no longer desired a physical connection, but as I’ve discovered, that’s not the case. Even if full sex is off the table (or bed), the desire for some kind of ‘fun’ or physical intimacy is often still there; in men anyway (I can’t talk for women). 

    We’re all familiar with the ‘dirty old man’ trope though, and mock older men who lust after younger women; but maybe we’re being unfair. I don’t think these men mean to come across as ‘dirty’, most of them (in my experience anyway) are just sexually frustrated or craving a physical connection; trying to reconnect with something they’ve lost or aren’t ready to let go of yet. I swear that the older men I’m involved with still think they’re randy teenagers and often behave as such; maybe they should know better, but I don’t think they can help it. Men are biologically programmed to be attracted to (and want to reproduce with) young fertile women after all, regardless of their own age… damn evolution. 

    It’s unfortunate when older men are no longer able to access the physical intimacy they need, but sadly it happens all the time; it’s less a case of not being able to ‘get it up’ but having nowhere to put it when they do…. 

    Take one of my sugar daddies in his mid-seventies for example. Whilst he’s living independently, he’s free to see and fuck me whenever he wants, but he’s struggling with his health so moving in with his daughter; which will be the end of our arrangement and his sex life. He can hardly tell his daughter he’s paying me to spend the night with him, she’d be horrified…  which is a shame as although he’s struggling to walk, his penis works fine, and he loves it when I ride him cowgirl style. 

    Someone told me the other day that there was a huge increase in cases of STIs during/after the pandemic in care homes (nothing to do with me, I promise). I’ve no idea whether that’s true or not, but if it is, it highlights the sexual needs of older people; as well as how boring and unstimulating lockdown was.  

    The first question I had on hearing this was ‘who are these horny old people having sex with’? I’d maybe wrongly assumed that older women weren’t as up for it as men, but perhaps I’m wrong (it’s happened before). My second question was ‘how can I get in on the action’… 

    That to one side, if you’re stuck in a care home and want to get your leg over, your options are limited, and I’m guessing that for a lot of people that’s the end of their sex life, and the end of any kind of physical or sexual intimacy. What if you don’t want it to be though? What if you still want and need sex or some kind of sexual stimulation? Shouldn’t that be something you have the right to? Care homes are hardly set up to cater for these needs though.  

    I suspect some men are getting their needs met through their carers, in what is hopefully a consensual agreement, though in some cases possibly not. Maybe some come to an arrangement and provide a service for money; others ‘help out’ because they get pleasure out of it or are sexually attracted to older people. Whatever the case, it’s hardly ideal… but better then nothing.   

    People in care homes don’t have the freedom that comes with living independently but imagine for a moment that they could see a sex worker if they wanted to. That a professional like me could pop in once a month (or week even) to spend time with them and give them what they need, wouldn’t that be great; may not necessarily be something sexual, could just be lying naked together, or being held, whatever it is they need but aren’t getting. It would certainly give them something to look forward to, help reduce loneliness, and I’d even go so far as to say increase not just their quality of life but their life expectancy too. If done properly, it could also reduce the risk of sexual abuse, which is undoubtedly an issue in some care homes. 

    It must be particularly difficult for those who lose their partner late in life, especially if they’ve been together for many years; losing the person they’ve been relying on to provide that physical intimacy and closeness, it must be something they really miss.  

    It’s not ‘the done thing’ to move on too quickly though, it’s seen as somehow disrespectful to the memory of the departed, yet if you’ve been enjoying a physical relationship, why wouldn’t you want to recreate that with someone else? Why shouldn’t someone in their 70s or 80’s be looking for a physical connection? To get back in the saddle and fuck like a randy teen? Are they really expected to spend the rest of their lives in mourning, remaining faithful to the memory of the one they’ve lost, ignoring their own needs.  

    A widower I was involved with certainly experienced this complicated mix of emotions; guilt for wanting to have sex and be physically intimate with someone, whilst at the same time worrying about what people would think if they found out. Feeling ashamed and confused by his desire for physical intimacy, despite it being a natural and understandable reaction. Feeling like he was in some way cheating on his late wife and disrespecting her memory; concerned about what his children would think if they found out.  

    It’s silly to think that you can’t be grieving, whilst also in need of physical intimacy, especially if that’s the very thing you’ve just lost. His involvement with me in no way diminished the love and commitment he had for his wife of 35 years (how could it); it helped him to process his loss though, and showed him that there is life after death (bad choice of words, but you know what I mean). 

    Whilst we talk about loneliness and lack of connection, especially in older people, we don’t discuss the importance of sex and physical intimacy, which are very much connected. Just think of all the endorphins that are released when we’re physically intimate with someone, it doesn’t even have to be a sexual thing; it can just be being held or having skin to skin contact with another human being, these are things we all crave no matter our age.  

    I’ve seen several men in their 70s and would never discriminate based on age. We all deserve to feel wanted and desired, and to feel the warmth of another human being, even if that’s just a hug.  

    I’m doing my bit anyway, one old man at a time…  

    Emily-Rose xxx 

  • Are men being used or taken advantage of by women like me who charge for sex?  

    I know that women are sometimes accused of using their sexuality to manipulate men to get what they want; I myself have certainly been accused of using my feminine charms to get my way, and don’t mind admitting that I will flirt with men and get my tits out if it makes life easier, because why not… I don’t agree that by being sexual, flirtatious or available, I’m taking advantage of men though; I think that’s just a convenient narrative to resolve men of responsibility.  

    The whole idea that men are driven by their cocks and can’t help succumbing to an attractive woman is bollocks, and ultimately just a way to excuse and justify bad behaviour and lack of self-control. I’ve heard the same logic used by women to excuse unfaithful partners though, it’s always the other woman’s fault for leading her man astray, far easier to make her the villain then address the real issues in the relationship. 

    Have you ever heard a women blame her pussy for her behaviour? No of course not, most women are able to take responsibility for their actions. Unless sex is non-consensual, it takes two to tango; and in my experience, it’s normally the men asking the women to dance…  

    As a woman I may be making the most of what nature has given me (my natural resources so to speak) and I’m not afraid to play the game in order to get what I want, but I don’t feel like I’m using or taking advantage of men in a harmful or manipulative way in order to make money. I’m upfront and honest about what I do, and what the arrangement is. My job is to provide what my sugar daddies need (which varies from guy to guy) for an agreed upon price, I could just as easily be providing house cleaning services, or doing their accounts; it just so happens that I’d rather be having sex then cleaning or studying bank statements… wouldn’t most people? 

    I provide a service for men seeking the kind of service I provide. If I was out randomly luring in wealthy men, trying to convince them to sleep with me, that would be different. Even then, they could just say no; a strange concept I know, but I believe it’s possible.  

    I could of course, if I wanted to, take advantage of the generous nature of some of my sugar daddies; but I don’t. I’ve never asked my sugar daddies for anything extra, above or beyond what has been agreed. I don’t expect something for nothing and like to think that I’m fair and business-like in the way I conduct myself.  

    Having been doing this for a while, and having spoken to hundreds of sugar daddies, there are unfortunately a lot of vulnerable men using sugaring sites. Men who aren’t that successful, and don’t have much money, but have been driven to join through loneliness, isolation, or sheer necessity; and men who are unable to pick up women and access sex the ‘normal way’ because they lack the confidence, opportunity or skills to approach women in person. I’ve been involved with several guys who are clearly on the spectrum, and whilst I know they’re safe with me, I can see how susceptible they’d be to being manipulated or taken advantage of if approached by the wrong person. 

    A lack of transparency on sugaring sites can further exasperate the situation. Often, these sites presenting as a more traditional online dating site, in order to appear more ‘respectable’ or socially acceptable, meaning that innocent men who’ve lost their way, and are looking for a genuine relationship, will get more then they bargain for, or caught up in something they don’t know how to handle.  

    I’ve certainly spoken to and met up with men who’ve been looking for an actual relationship, and not really wanted an arrangement with a financial element, which is frustrating because it’s a waste of my time, and of theirs.  

    There are lots of lonely men on these sites who would benefit from professional help and support, but don’t know how or where to find it, so find us instead. Loneliness and social isolation are a real issue though and a factor which makes people incredibly vulnerable. Just as a starving person will take scraps of food to survive, a person starved of love and affection will also take whatever they can, because it’s better than nothing; and women looking for an easy target will play on this. It’s not even just women, there are plenty of fake profiles on sugaring sites, men pretending to be young attractive women in order to take advantage of vulnerable men and scam them out of money.     

    I’ve lost count of the number of horror stories I’ve heard from my sugar daddies; nearly all the men I’ve been involved with have had at least one bad experience with a sugar baby. Many have been conned out of, or blackmailed for money, but felt unable to do anything about it.  

    If society was more open to the fact that this sort of thing went on, and we could discuss these things without getting so squeamish about it, then things would be a lot safer. If sex work became a recognised profession, then it could be legislated, and safeguarding put in place for both the men and women involved, who I hate to tell you this, are going to be doing it anyway, whether it’s safe or not. The whole issue as to whether establishments like brothels should be legalised is an interesting debate, and not something I know enough about to know the answer to. It’s maybe something to consider though, as there’s certainly an argument in favour for this being the case.   

    Anyway, I digress; to summarise my thoughts on this, I don’t think women like me charging men for sex are in any way taking advantage of them. We are just providing a service, for which there is, and always will be a demand. I appreciate that as animals, we are all to some extent motivated by sex, that’s how we as a species have survived after all. I guess you could argue that sugar babies are taking advantage of and capitalising on human nature and carnal desire, but only for those who want to engage with us, we are not forcing anyone to have sex with us. There are vulnerable men seeking out sugar babies, and women within the profession who take advantage of men and get away with it, but you can’t judge every woman in this profession based on the behaviour of a few.  

    Hopefully you’ve found this blog interesting, and it’s made you question some of your own ideas and beliefs on this subject. Either way, it’s good to remember that nothing in life is ever black and white, there are only shades of grey.  

    Emily-Rose xxx