Sugar and Spice

Tag: Mental health

  • Saying goodbye

    According to Elton John, “sorry seems to be the hardest word”, but he’s wrong, it’s actually goodbye. I’m quite good at saying sorry, being the fuck up that I am, I’ve had lots of practice; I’ve never been great at goodbyes though. As a child I’d get terribly upset when people left or things ended. I’d shut myself in my room, tears pouring down my face, or sit in the back of the car quietly sobbing whilst we drove home; everyone else able to appreciate what a lovely time they’d had, whilst my poor heart was breaking (yes, I was a sensitive and emotional child). 

    As a sugar baby (and a slightly more emotionally stable adult) I’m fairly philosophical about my job, and the role I play in the lives of my sugar daddies; I know that my time with each of them is limited (I’m there for a good time, not a long time etc). All my arrangements have an expiry date, and at some point, must end.  

    Several have already come and gone (literally and figuratively), and it doesn’t bother me; I’ve binned off men I dislike and had to end things with men who’ve become clingy or too emotionally involved. Shit happens… and I have no issue walking away from an arrangement if it’s no longer working; although when I do end things, I’ll do it via text or WhatsApp because I’m a wimp and hate confrontation. I spout some bullshit about how I’m not the best fit for them, or I want to cut back on what I’m doing and focus on other things, i.e. it’s not you it’s me… Honesty isn’t always the best policy, you never know when your paths may cross, especially in Cornwall where everyone’s either related or fucking (or both). 

    Other arrangements simply fizzle out over time. If I like them (or they pay well) I’ll reach out a few times, but if I don’t get a response or can tell they’re no longer interested then I’ll archive our messages and move on; I don’t want to harass people, plus I’m not exactly short of men wanting to fuck me.  

    I like it when things end that way, with no goodbye, just a drifting apart and passing of time. Having said that, occasionally you write off a sugar daddy only for them to reappear months (or even years later); you’re convinced they’ve died, and the next thing they’re messaging to arrange a date… it’s a bit of a mindfuck. 

    Anyway, these goodbyes (or absence of) with sugar daddies don’t upset me, only once have I experienced an upsetting goodbye when one of my sugar daddies ended our arrangement (a most unusual occurrence); he properly dumped me….and in person too! Obviously, he didn’t want to, but was moving on (work wise) so had no choice. He took me out for a meal, for what we both knew would be the last time; he was really emotional and genuinely upset. There was talk of ‘chapters coming to an end’ and what a special experience it had been; how he’d never done anything like this before and wasn’t planning to again (being a married man).  

    After our meal he drove me home and took me to bed where we had sex; deep, passionate sex. Then he got dressed, led me downstairs, and said his final goodbyes, before driving away, leaving me stood in the doorway in my dressing gown sobbing my heart out; I don’t know why but I was a wreck. 

    Looking back now, it’s obvious that saying goodbye like this is triggering for me, and I wasn’t crying just because he’d ended things, but because hearing the door closing and listening to the car driving away opened a floodgate of painful memories of rejection and not feeling good enough, which I’d buried in my subconscious. In that moment I was a small child again, responding in the only way I knew how, to cry. Did I love this guy… no, of course not; did I want him to love me, absolutely not! We’d only met a handful of times; and only had sex twice… it really shouldn’t have been such an ordeal, yet somehow it was.  

    Thankfully my emotions whilst being intense at times, are also quite fickle. I may have cried myself to sleep that night, but the next day I was back to my normal chirpy self; slightly annoyed that I’d lost a good sugar daddy, but grateful for the time we’d spent together.  

    I think he on the other hand was left traumatised at having to leave me snotty nosed and bawling my eyes out whilst he drove away. I tried to reassure him that I was ok and just being silly; but I’m not sure he believed me.  

    The funny thing is that a few months later he was back in Cornwall, so we resumed our arrangement; he just couldn’t stay away. We’re still very much involved and have been now for over 3 years, funny how things work out… 

    I know that I can’t do this job forever, and at some point I’ll move on to other things. When the time comes to leave this all behind, I don’t want any big emotional goodbyes though, I don’t think I could cope; I’ll just disappear quietly into the night, and onto my next adventure. 

    Emily-Rose xxx 

  • Is it possible to be in a relationship and be a sugar baby?

    The short answer is undoubtedly yes, lots of women like me, who work as sugar babies or escorts are either in relationships or dating; they’ve found a way to manage both and appear to ‘have it all’. Obviously, you have to find the right person, not everyone wants to be romantically involved with someone who fucks other people for a living. However, I know of women who are married with children and do this kind of work; so clearly it is possible. 

    For me though it’s not been that easy, I was single when I started working as a sugar baby (over 4 years ago) and have remained so ever since. I’ve not been looking for a relationship, having decided that whilst I’m working as a sugar baby, I’m better off being on my own; I don’t want the hassle or heartache of a relationship.  

    Even if I did meet my ideal man, the idea of juggling a relationship with my job seemed somehow impossible. I’m surprisingly conventional when it comes to certain things; and have no desire to be in an open relationship. I don’t like the thought of my other half fucking other people (I’d be jealous), so why should I expect someone to be ok with me doing just that? Wouldn’t that make me a hypocrite?  

    So, I resigned myself to the fact that I’d be on my own for the foreseeable future, that’s just how it had to be. I’m not complaining though as I’ve enjoyed being single; it’s forced me to be brave and do things I never thought I’d be capable of doing on my own. I’m proud of the fact that I’m a strong independent woman who’s in control of her own destiny and able to support herself financially etc, it’s a good feeling!  

    After my last relationship I wanted time alone to rebuild my life and discover who I was without my ex. I needed time to heal my broken heart and repair the damage caused by being in an unhealthy relationship; and although at times I thought I’d break, I got through it and am a better person for it. 

    I relocated from Cornwall (something I’d been wanting to do for years), buying and moving onto a houseboat in Bristol (a city where I knew no-one) in order to start over, just me and my daughter. I’ve spent the last 12 months keeping my head down, concentrating on my work and writing; and although at times I’ve been lonely, I’ve held on to the belief that I’m better off alone. 

    However, there’s always been a part of me that’s wanted to settle down again; I’ve missed being part of a team and having someone who’s got your back (and vice versa). Although my marriage ultimately failed, I still have fond memories of that time of my life; which in many ways were when I was at my happiest and most secure. Maybe I’m looking back through rose-tinted spectacles, but I enjoyed having someone to make plans with; sharing my life with someone who wasn’t just my partner but my best friend. 

    I think that’s partly why my next relationship (with my ex) was such a disaster, because I was desperately trying to recreate what I’d lost with someone who was completely unsuitable, and ultimately didn’t want the same thing (shame it took us 8 years to realize that but oh well).  

    After that shit show of a relationship and the ensuing heartbreak, it was no wonder I swore off relationships and found a less conventional way to get my needs met; which until now has worked remarkedly well, but am I really happy or have I just been protecting myself from heartache and rejection?  

    Despite telling myself that I don’t want or need a relationship, I’ve been guilty of downloading dating apps on occasions when I’ve been feeling sad and lonely, just to see who’s out there. I get a few matches, endure tiresome and repetitive conversations with guys I’m not interested in anyway, realize there’s no one out there for me and delete them again, but still… I’m obviously looking for something. Hell, I even went speed dating earlier this year, because I thought it would be fun and interesting (turned out it was neither). 

    I always give up, because no matter who I’m talking to, the moment I mention my job they see me differently. Someone who’s alright for a quick shag, but not someone you’d want to take home to your parents, and since I’m not looking for casual sex (not when I’m being paid for it anyway) it’s all a bit pointless and a waste of time. Unfortunately, I’m not seen as relationship material; it’s the whole Madonna/whore complex, you’re one or the other… you can’t be both. 

    However, as is so often the case, the moment you decide you don’t want something and stop looking, it turns up unexpectedly, out of the blue… You spot a cute guy staring at you from across the bar and for some reason you can’t stop staring back. You make an excuse to go over and start a conversation, and for the first time in four and a half years you think that just maybe you’ve found someone worth pursuing.  

    I still don’t believe that anyone needs a romantic relationship in order to be ‘complete’. I’m certainly not looking for someone to complete me, because I want to be the whole deal, the full package; able to survive and thrive on my own. If I’m in a relationship, I want to be with someone because I want to be with them, and because they add something to my life, not because I need them and can’t manage without them; and I want the person I’m with to feel the same about me. 

    I’m feeling optimistic about the future of my love life, and the prospect of finding love though. I’m not saying that my job won’t cause issues, or that I won’t have to make compromises. But for the first time in a long time, I’m thinking that maybe it is possible to have it all. 

    Emily-Rose xxx 

  • Tony – The perfectionist who wanted it all

    So, Tony was perfect on paper… late 50s, single, looked after himself, lived in a big house, had a nice car, and loved to cook; what more could you ask for. He was generous, and looking for a regular fortnightly arrangement, promising to pay well, and treat me like a lady. As I said, sounded perfect; but like anything that sounds too good to be true, it probably is… and this was.   

    Looking back, the warning signs were there from the start, when during our first meeting (a quick coffee) he was over the top and heavy handed with the compliments. It was creepy, but I put it down to nerves; it can be rather daunting meeting a sugar baby for the first time.  

    It wasn’t this though, as when I visited his house a few days later, he ushered me in, sat me on a chair and stared at me like I was a sculpture or piece of art; I wasn’t allowed to say anything, just sit there whilst he ‘admired’ me. I didn’t like it, in fact it made me feel quite uncomfortable; but I like to please, so sat there quietly cringing whilst he gushed over me!  

    Throughout the evening, he continued to tell me how beautiful I was, and how he was going to adore me, treat me like a princess, and give me the finest of everything; it was all too much. He was trying too hard, and it didn’t feel genuine; plus, it was triggering my imposter syndrome big time.  

    I hate being treated like an object anyway; I’m not that pretty and I’m definitely not the sort of girl who needs (or wants) to be put on a pedestal or treated like a princess. However it made him happy, so I sucked it up and let him get on with it; after all, I was being paid to be there so couldn’t really complain…  

    As I got to know Tony better, I began to realise how incredibly vain he was, and how for him appearances were everything; it wasn’t just his appearance that mattered now though, it was mine too. He wore expensive clothes, worked hard on his body (which I didn’t find attractive), and was particular about what he ate and drank; only the best was good enough for him. Now that I was his sugar baby, he wanted me to live by the same standards, to wear nice clothes (which he’d buy); and to eat well, drink less alcohol and work out every day to be in peak physical condition. I think he saw me as a ‘project’, he saw potential and thought he could transform me into his ‘perfect woman’.  

    Tony was obsessed with going to the gym and working out, which is fine if that’s your thing (good for you), but I’m not really a gym kind of girl; gin yes, gym… not so much. Tony wanted me to be like him and couldn’t understand my resistance, despite me explaining that I didn’t have the time, money or inclination to go to the gym. He was determined to help me get into shape though, so designed a workout plan that I could do at home. I said I’d give it a go, hoping that would shut him up and get him off my back, but it didn’t.  

    Despite his constant nagging, I wasn’t motivated or disciplined enough to work out every day and was honest with him about it. He was disappointed, and unable to accept that I was comfortable and happy the way I was. Yes, I’m lazy and a bit overweight, and I enjoy eating and drinking too much, but we can’t all be athletes, some of us need to eat Dominoes and binge-watch shit on Netflix…     

    I was starting to feel suffocated by his dominance, constant need for physical closeness, and obsession with perfection. He was also beginning to make it clear that he didn’t like what I was doing and wanted me to stop working as a sugar baby. I think maybe he thought he was saving me, but in reality, he just wanted control; he was jealous and didn’t want to share me with anyone else.  

    In the end it got to the point where I didn’t look forward to spending time with him, so decided I had no choice but to end our arrangement; we’d lasted less than 3 months together. 

    Despite ending it in the nicest way possible (it’s not you it’s me etc), he didn’t take it well, and I had several unpleasant messages from him, many commenting on how I was destroying my life and any prospects of a normal relationship in the future. He also thought it would be fun to threaten to tell my place of work about my sugar baby activities, a thinly vailed attempt at blackmail, which I really didn’t appreciate.  

    It amuses me how guys who pay for the services I offer as a sugar baby then feel compelled to comment on how ‘disgusting’ or ‘disrespectful’ my work is, and why I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing. I’ve come to realise that this says more about them then me though, and the shame they feel about paying someone to spend time and have sex with them. They feel dirty, embarrassed or ashamed by their behaviour, and alleviate those feelings by projecting them onto me and making me the issue.  

    Of course, I don’t think my job is in any way disgusting or shameful, I enjoy and am very proud of what I do. I genuinely believe that I provide a valuable and much needed service, which lots of men (including him) find useful.  

    He tried reaching out a few months after it ended, wanting to reconnect and try again. He’d been seeing other sugar babies, but they didn’t have what I had…  

    I’m not sure why he’s continued to engage in a lifestyle that he finds so disgusting and ruinous for the young women involved, but that’s something he has to justify to himself. I just hope he’s not taking out his frustrations on the women he’s seeing.  

    I was very polite and told him that I’d moved on and wasn’t interested, I wasn’t prepared to open myself up to that kind of judgement and control again. I’m not going to allow anyone to make me feel shit about myself for who I am and what I do. I’ve worked too hard on my confidence and self-esteem to let someone who hasn’t got their shit together yet bring me down; I don’t need anyone projecting their insecurities or self-loathing onto me in order to make themselves feel better.  

    This was pretty early on in my career when I was inexperienced and naive, and less selective about who I worked with. If I met a sugar daddy like this now, I’d send him packing; I don’t have time for men who try to make me feel ashamed of what I’m doing. 

    As to whether my job will destroy my chances of finding a relationship in the future, that is yet to be seen. However, I’ve met a few guys recently who don’t seem to have an issue with what I do….so who knows. 

    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 

  • Balancing sex and sanity: the mental health impacts of being a sugar baby.

    Being a sugar baby (like any job) can have a negative impact on your mental health, for not only can it be physically draining, but mentally and emotionally draining too. Whilst I enjoy what I do, at times I’ve definitely overextended myself, on a few occasions waking up with one man, seeing another in the afternoon, and going out with a third in the evening; great for the bank balance, but not my mental (or physical) health.  

    As an empathetic introvert (all be it a sociable one), I find it tiring being around people for too long; I’m someone who needs time and space to recover. I give so much of myself to my sugar daddies though, that if I’m not careful I’ve nothing left for myself.  

    Hopefully you realise that I’m not just a sexual outlet for many of my men, but also a confidante, a friend, a therapist etc; and that can be a lot, especially if one of them is going through a tough time. I have sugar daddies who experience anxiety, depression and loneliness, and open up to me because they simply have no one else to talk to; sugar daddies who are grieving or going through marriage breakups who need a sympathetic ear or shoulder to cry on. It’s my job to be strong and provide a safe place where my sugar daddies can talk openly about their feelings and not have to be the ‘stoic man’ society expects them to be; for many of my sugar daddies the ‘pillow talk’ is an essential part of the experience, equally as important as the sex. 

    The sugar baby/ sugar daddy dynamic is an interesting one, being a unique relationship that transcends conventionality. The intimate nature of the relationship requires a certain level of trust and vulnerability from both parties; and the unspoken rule that whatever happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom (unless your sugar baby blogs of course). It’s not surprising then that sugar babies often take on the role of therapist as well as sex buddy.  

    I really enjoy this side of the job though and get a lot of pleasure from making people feel good; whether that’s physically, mentally or emotionally, it doesn’t matter, it’s all connected.  

    When life is good, dealing with other peoples’ problems is easy, however there have been times over the last 4 years when I’ve had my own shit going on, which has been difficult. I’ve lost my job, been through bereavements and had to deal with illness in the family; but I’ve never stopped working.  

    Most of my sugar daddies are understanding, and I can talk to them when things are tough, however they’re not paying to hear my problems, or to spend time with someone who’s feeling sorry for themselves, so I never make a big deal of anything. There’ve been times when I’ve been exhausted and at the end of my tether yet still turned up with a smile on my face, determined to make sure that my sugar daddy has an enjoyable evening, and leaves feeling happy and satisfied.  

    Of course, if things are really bad I can cancel, but it’s very rare that I do so; I don’t like letting people down, plus it’s bad for business. Trust me, there are plenty of other sugar babies just waiting to swoop in and steal my men, so I need to be consistent and reliable.  

    There’s also the fact that if I don’t work, I don’t get paid. I don’t have the luxury of sick pay or compassionate leave, so I just have to suck it up and get on with it. I can afford to take it easy for a week if I need to, but I can’t afford to stop for long or lose too many clients. 

    You have to be thick-skinned to be a sugar baby, as you’re constantly opening yourself up to judgement and critique. Every time I meet a new client there’s the possibility that they won’t like me or will find me unattractive. As a sugar baby you’re selling a product, and that product is yourself; if they don’t like it, it’s difficult not to take it personally. In many ways it’s similar to dating, in that you’re constantly putting yourself out there at the risk of being shot down or rejected, which isn’t always great for your self-esteem.  

    A few of my sugar daddies think it’s ok to make negative comments about my body or appearance, pointing out if I’ve put on weight or I’m looking tired etc, which can be a little insensitive. I don’t always feel confident or attractive, so these comments can get to me if I’m not careful and I have to remind myself of my own worth, and the fact that I am more than just a body. 

    Being a sugar baby can also be quite an isolating and lonely experience, especially, if like me, you don’t know anyone else in the business. I’m guilty of avoiding certain social situations, preferring to keep myself to myself; because I’m avoiding being asked what I do for a living, which is often the first question people ask when you meet. It’s not because I’m particularly embarrassed or ashamed by what I do (as I’m not), but because I can’t be arsed to continuously explain how and why I got into this lifestyle, and deal with all the questions. As a result, I’ve become a bit socially awkward, finding it difficult to open-up and make connections, and have forfeited opportunities to make new friends; which has left me feeling even more isolated and lonely.  

    Working weekends and evenings doesn’t help either, as I often miss out on doing things with friends because I’m busy; in fact, sometimes I’m not even invited, because they just assume I’ll be working. To be fair, I don’t think they realise how lonely I am, they think I’m fine because I’m out with a sugar daddy; but it’s not the same. 

    Even when I’m with friends who know what I do, I find it difficult to talk about it as my life is so different from theirs; unless you’re a sugar baby it’s hard to understand what it’s like. Most of my friends think my job just involves going out and having a good time, they don’t see the other side of it. 

    As someone who’s struggled with depression since a teenager and been diagnosed with a personality disorder (BPD in case you’re wondering), I know how important it is to look after myself and my mental health. It’s especially important when you’re looking after other people; after all, you can’t draw from an empty well.  

    Being a sugar baby allows me to work around my mental health issues and low energy though (a common symptom of depression), and I’m getting better at listening to my body and recognising when I need to take a break and put myself first for a change.  

    I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m moaning about my job, because I love being a sugar baby and am in many ways happier now then I’ve ever been. Nothing in life is ever perfect though, and we all have to take the rough with the smooth.  

    Keep smiling.  

    Emily-Rose xxx  

    P.S I intend to write a separate blog at some point about borderline personality disorder and how that (subconsciously maybe) influenced my decision to become a sugar baby. It’s something that’s not really talked about and something I want to raise awareness of, but that’s for another day.   

  • My Body (keeping it real)

    I’m not sure I look like a ‘typical’ sugar baby but then, what does a typical sugar baby look like?  I’m 5ft 7in and a dress size 12 (UK); I’m not as slim as I used to be, but it is what it is.  

    As you can probably see from my photos, I have thick hair, with a surprizing amount of grey; or silver highlights as I call them. I used to hate my hair growing up, so thick and unruly, but now as I watch other women faffing around with hair extensions and expensive products trying to create volume, I finally appreciate what I’ve got.  

    My eyes are probably my best feature; despite the fact they don’t work very well (I can see fuck all without contact lenses or glasses). I’m not so keen on my masculine (roman) nose, but you can’t have it all. I like my pale complexion and classical looking face; and lean into the ‘English rose’ aesthetic I’ve got going on. I’d be great in one of those Tudor period dramas; in a tightly laced corset, my bosoms heaving, waiting for some rich married man to fuck me and make me his mistress… hmm yes please!  

    Talking of bosoms, I love my breasts; they’re a good handful (36D if you’re interested), and fairly pert. I can still get away without a bra if I need to; although for how much longer I’m not sure… (gravities a bitch). My tummy is soft and rounded, bigger than I’d like, but that’s because I’m lazy and enjoy eating and drinking too much; I have a big slapable ass, strong thighs and long shapely legs. I have stretch marks from being overweight as a teenager, and having a child, but these are faded now, and not as noticeable as they once were. My stretchmarks don’t bother me, I think they’re quite pretty; the cellulite on the back of my thighs on the other hand is not so attractive, but at least I don’t have to look at it.  

    Shall I describe my pussy? I just as well… I can always cut it out later (the description, not my pussy, blimey). Before you ask, no, she doesn’t have a name, I just refer to her as my pussy, or if I’m feeling funny I might call her my money maker, but that sounds a bit crass.  

    You know some girls have neat tucked away pussies that you have to open like a delicate flower, well mine’s not like that; it’s out and proud, like a big old daffodil. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have massive saggy pussy lips or anything, it’s still fairly neat, it’s just a shower, not a grower. I actually think it’s quite pretty, but then I think pussies are, they’re certainly nicer to look at then penises, which just look silly most of the time.  

    My clitoris is easy to find (for most men anyway) and will become erect and stick out when aroused. Despite having had a child, my vagina is in pretty good shape, one advantage of having a baby so young, I guess. It’s still fairly tight (or so I’m told), and men often find it hard to believe I’ve had a child, which is always a nice compliment (shout out to the doctor who sewed me back together afterwards…).  

    If you’re struggling to picture my pussy, here’s a description from one of my sugar daddies, “most pleasant and a bit like a ham roll with an engorged slice of ham peering out from time to time”. Before you say anything, no, I didn’t ask for this, it was just a random message he sent me one day after we’d had sex…  

    Men seem to love my womanly curves, and soft milky skin; my hourglass figure looks classy in figure hugging dresses, and my long legs look good in stockings and suspenders. My body is far from perfect, but it’s the only one I’ve got, and I’m certainly not about to do anything drastic to change it.  

    Growing up I never liked my body or the way I looked, I was bullied quite badly at school, so have had to work hard to love and accept myself (which is still a challenge at times). At the end of the day, I’m not stunning and I’m never going to be, but I’m pretty enough, which is all that matters really. I’ve certainly improved with age, not quite the ugly duckling who turned into a magnificent swan, but the ugly duckling who turned into a pretty enough looking duck (which makes more sense, ducklings don’t turn into swans, that’s impossible).  

    Before you ask, no, I’ve not had any cosmetic surgery (which would be obvious if you ever met me); I don’t do Botox or lip fillers or any shit like that. No-one is putting any needles anywhere near my face, or anywhere else for that matter!  

    I was a proper tomboy growing up; so not very good at all the grooming and pruning that us women are ‘supposed’ to do. I don’t fake tan, nor do I wax or pluck anything, other than this one really annoying hair below my nipple which randomly appeared the other day and keeps coming back, what the fuck…  

    I shave my legs and under arms, and keep my pussy trimmed, but that’s about it; oh, apart from using hair removal cream on my toes, something I’ve been doing since my ex-boyfriend’s daughter asked her dad why his girlfriend had hairy toes… loudly enough for me to hear (aren’t kids great).  

    Sometimes if I haven’t bothered to shave for a while, I pretend I’m one of those women who doesn’t give a fuck, but I’m not really ready to embrace the whole hairy look in public quite yet, and to be honest I don’t think my sugar daddies are either. I’m slightly worried that I’m growing a moustache, but have so far avoided doing anything about it, I’ve a horrible feeling that once I start, I’ll have to keep it up; and I’m not sure I can be bothered at the moment to be honest. I’ll just wait for some innocent child to point it out…   

    As well as attempting to stay smooth and hair free(ish), I usually have painted nails and wear a modest amount of makeup. I don’t get my nails done professionally or anything, I just paint them at home whilst watching tv. Infact, I haven’t even been to a hairdresser for years, I just cut my own hair; I don’t like having people fussing over me! Some of my sugar daddies like me to dress up and have a more glamourous look, whilst others prefer something more understated and natural, so I tailor my look accordingly, or at least attempt to.  

    I don’t scrub up too badly actually, and when I’m all dressed up and out at a fancy restaurant, I love looking and acting like a lady (like a proper lady, not just someone with a vagina). It’s a stark contrast to sitting at home in my PJs, slobbing out on the sofa, watching Netflix, which is often what I’m doing when I’m not working; I’m not very glamourous at home…  

    There are sugar babies out there who are absolutely stunning and look like Victoria Secret models, but I’m not one of them; I’m very much your girl next door. I do own a Victoria Secret handbag, but that’s as close as I’m ever going to get… 

    Who wants to go out with someone unrealistically attractive, who’s too worried about looking perfect to have a good time anyway… 

    Here’s to all us women keeping it real! 

    Emily-Rose XXX 

  • Dating with a sucky attitude: why self-love comes first.

    Martin is the most negative and pessimistic person I’ve ever met, hence why I’ve nicknamed him ‘Eeyore’; although that seems unfair on Eeyore who’s a ray of sunshine in comparison and at least cute (man, I’m a bitch). 

    Anyway, Martin is fairly successful; owning his own business buying and selling luxury cars and is quite well-known and respected in the ‘car world’. He drives a nice car (obviously), wears designer clothes, is well travelled and not unattractive for his age. He’s single and wants to be in a relationship but struggling to find anyone suitable. He can’t be happy whilst he’s single, but can’t find anyone to make him happy because he’s too depressed (about being single), it’s a real catch 22.  

    Martin was married, but left his wife because he thought the grass was greener, which he now realises it isn’t. I think he saw other men with young attractive ‘trophy wives’ and thought he could have the same; only that hasn’t quite worked out; a lesson there for all middle-aged men … 

    Martin works from home most of the time, so doesn’t get the opportunity to meet people or socialise that often, which is unfortunate, but not uncommon; it makes it difficult to find love though… 

    I’ve suggested he find a hobby, join an organisation or club and get himself out there, but he just says he isn’t interested in or good at anything. On the rare occasion he’s made an effort, he hasn’t enjoyed it or liked any of the people, plus there’ve been no attractive single women… so no point.  

    I’ve suggested he get a pet to keep him company if he’s that lonely, but he doesn’t want the hassle. I’ve suggested putting energy into platonic friendships and creating a support network, getting to know people who may be able to introduce him to someone, I’ve suggested keeping a gratitude diary to focus on what he does have rather than what he doesn’t, so he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out. 

    I’ve even suggested that he go to his doctor for help, but he thinks they’ll just prescribe antidepressants and he doesn’t want to pop pills (or be happy apparently)… Basically, no matter what I suggest, he’ll find a reason why it won’t work, and insists that he’ll be sad and lonely forever; which with an attitude like that, is likely to be the case. 

     He occasionally pays women like me for their company, but that depresses him too, and he spends the whole time moaning about how he can’t find love and saying things like ‘you’re only here because I’m paying you’, which is true but not really the point.  

    I’ve tried to explain how he needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else, but he just says that he doesn’t know how, and that he can’t be happy and love himself until he finds someone; and we just go round in circles. He’s basically waiting for someone else to come along and magically fix everything for him, which isn’t how life works (unfortunately). 

    He’s handed over thousands of pounds to professional matchmakers, but they haven’t had any success, as no-one they suggest is good enough, and he gets frustrated and ends up being rude to them.  

    He’s had counselling too, but that didn’t work either (obviously, because nothing does) and in the end even the counsellor gave up (the will to live probably) and told him that she couldn’t help him. It seems to me that he must just like being depressed, there’s no other explanation for his behaviour; he’s just one of those people who is only content when they have something to complain about and can wallow in self-pity….that or he doesn’t know how else to get attention. 

    For someone who’s desperate to be with someone, he’s surprisingly fussy and judgemental, and will write women off without giving them a chance because they’re not attractive enough, or he doesn’t like what they’re wearing etc. He’s set the bar so high that no-one is going to be good enough, but maybe that’s the point; as long as he pushes everyone away, he can’t get hurt…he can just be miserable (which seems to be where he’s comfortable). It’s frustrating because this is a man who could have it all…. the only thing stopping him is his shitty attitude and pessimistic outlook on life.  

    Although I’m still in touch with him, I rarely see him; which is just as well as it’s mentally draining spending time with him, and enough to make anyone feel depressed. Even messaging to arrange a date is hard work, so I don’t bother.   

    He’s still trawling the sugar daddy sites looking for love, and recently messaged another sugar baby with the opening line “I don’t expect you’ll even bother to read this message but…”; hardly an inspiring introduction to entice or attract a young lady, but one that sums him up perfectly.  

    I don’t want you to think that I’m shitting on someone with mental health issues here, because I know what it’s like to have depression, it’s something I’ve struggled with my entire life. What I can’t cope with is Martin’s victim mentality and learned helplessness; it’s very difficult to help someone like that, as unless they want to change, you’re just wasting your time. 

     Expecting someone to come into your life and magically make everything better is unrealistic and grossly unfair on the other person. Other people can help, support and guide you, but at the end of the day if you want to change your life, no-one else can do that for you; as tough as it is, you’ve just got to put the work in.  

    Remember that the longest and most important relationship you’ll ever have in life is the one you have with yourself, so invest in making that one a good one. 

    Advice for Martin, and anyone else in his situation 

    1. If you want to be in a relationship, be the sort of person that people will want to be in a relationship with; work on yourself and being the best person you can. Have hobbies and interest, be fun and interesting, invest in non-romantic relationships and learn how to be happy in your own skin. Don’t expect someone else to give you there all if you have nothing to offer in return. 
    1. Don’t put your whole life on hold until you’re in a relationship, don’t not do things just because you’re single. Get yourself out there and live your life, who knows when the right person may come along or how long you’ll be waiting. It’ll probably happen when you least expect it, so in the meantime, make the most of your life and don’t waste time pining over something you don’t have. 
    1. Be realistic about what sort of person will be attracted to you. We tend to couple up with people of a similar attractiveness/ successfulness to ourselves. Don’t waste time chasing people who are way out of your league, unless you really enjoy being rejected.  
    1. Accept the looks aren’t everything, so don’t be vain; a lasting successful relationship is not based on physical attraction alone. Be open minded about what you’re looking for as love can be found in unexpected places, and from unexpected people. 
    1. Accept that it’s not someone else’s responsibility to make you happy, or in some way ‘make you whole’, no-one with their shit together is going to be attracted to someone who is deeply unhappy or unsatisfied with their life. Unless you want to be rescued by a narcissist with a ‘hero complex’, learn to live with yourself and be happy on your own. 
    1. Don’t feel under pressure to be in a relationship just because everyone else is, or that’s what society expects (tells) you to do. Some people are more than happy on their own, and there are a lot of advantages to being single; there are worse things to be, I promise. 
    1. Whatever you do, don’t come across as desperate! People can sense desperation and will either a) find it grossly unattractive or b) see it as an opportunity to take advantage of or exploit you; neither of which are great. 

    Good luck! 

    Emily-Rose xxx 

    If you liked this blog, check out my blog on physical attraction

    Physical attraction

  • Birthday Blog

    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… 

  • Going self-employed

    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. 

    Emily-Rose xxx 

  • Discovering sex and what it means to be sexually desired; what happens when you’re too young to cope…

    I remember the first time a guy showed an interest in me. I must have been around 13 or 14; and being on the heavier side was fairly ‘well developed’. As a teenage girl, having boobs was everything, so I was making the most of my new-found ‘assets’ by wearing a push-up bra and low-cut top; how I was allowed to leave the house like that I’ll never know. Anyway, my sexualised ‘jailbait’ body had gained the attention of a young man who was very obviously checking me out; which was weird because no-one ever looked at me, until that moment I’d been somewhat invisible, yet here he was staring in my direction and clearly liking what he was seeing. I remember feeling wanted and desired; something I’d not experienced before.  

    I come from what you might call a ‘traditional’ or ‘old fashioned’ family. My Dad, being a farmer, showed an interest in my brothers who could potentially take over the farm one day; but as a girl, I was less interesting. My job was to do what I was told, play the ‘little woman’ like my mother, and not cause a scene; women looked after the home and their men, they certainly weren’t meant to have opinions, aspirations or independent thoughts, heaven forbid! 

    Emotional displays weren’t tolerated, and we all walked on eggshells for fear of upsetting my father; issues were swept under the rug and to the outside world we looked like the perfect family, but behind closed doors we were a mess. If you’ve experienced a similar upbringing then you’ll know it’s impossible to thrive in an environment like this; it’s oppressive and unhealthy, and I really struggled!  

    I don’t remember a lot about my childhood, it’s a bit of a blur, like something that happened to someone else. I know I was bullied and deeply unhappy as a child, and painfully quiet and shy, but apart from that, I’m not sure who I was before I hit puberty. I guess I was uninteresting and insignificant, or that’s certainly how I felt. However, with my sexy curvaceous body things were different, I was getting attention and was suddenly interesting (to men at least anyway); I started to think that maybe I did have something to offer after all.  

    For a girl who had been made to feel like she wasn’t good enough by the main masculine figure in her life, you can’t imagine how good it felt to be noticed and desired by men. Of course, what I really wanted was the love and affection of my father, but let’s not get all Freudian here; if I couldn’t be validated and win the approval of my dad, then at least I could be pleasing to other men. 

    I’d been brought up to believe that men were superior to women; their needs more important. Men were in charge and held all the cards, and that was just the way it was. In my teens I started to realise that this wasn’t quite the case, that not all women feared or felt intimidated by men; there were strong independent women out there who commanded respect and considered themselves equal. I felt excited and inspired by these women and very much wanted to be like them, I just didn’t know how…. So, when I discovered that I could be wanted physically by men, that I could use my body to get their attention and a place at the table (metaphorically speaking), I thought that was the answer. I’d found their weakness, and a way in….  

    Of course it was a complete disaster, I was too young and fucked up to understand how to embrace my sexuality in a healthy empowering way, which meant that in my early teens I would give myself to any man who so much as glanced in my direction; so fragile my ego and low my self-esteem at the time. I so desperately wanted to please men and feel loved, that even though I knew deep down that none of these men cared and were only after one thing; I let them use me anyway. I would inevitably feel rubbish the next day and regret what I’d done, yet would do it all again at the next opportunity. As a young teenager I simultaneously hated men (especially my father) yet craved male attention; it was a very confusing time. The high I got from messing around with men gave me a temporary break from the depression that hung over me, a fleeting false high, followed by a debilitating crushing low. I let men use me whilst hating myself for allowing them to do so. It was a vicious cycle though; the more I let men use me, the worse I felt about myself and thus the more I needed male attention to make myself feel better; because without it I felt like a failure. It’s safe to say that I was a complete mess, and not surprisingly gained a bit of a reputation for being a bit of a slut.  

    I had a lot of counselling in my teens for depression and low self-esteem but never discussed my sex life with any of my therapists. Mainly because I knew I wasn’t supposed to have one and didn’t want to get anyone into trouble; but also because I felt ashamed of my behaviour, and didn’t want anyone to know about it, especially my parents. I think they knew anyway, but as with anything of importance in our family it was never discussed. Maybe if I’d been able to talk to someone, things would have been different, and I’d have broken the cycle sooner, who knows. 

    I had more sex in my teens then I’d care to admit, and most of it was rather shit to be honest; it wasn’t until my first proper boyfriend when I was 16, that I discovered that sex could actually be a pleasant and enjoyable experience. My boyfriends were always much older than me, which contributed greatly to my positive sexual experiences in my mid-teens, as at least one of us knew what we were doing. By the time I met the father of my child, I had a much better idea of who I was sexually, and what I enjoyed. Together we tried different things, made sex fun, and my confidence in the bedroom grew. More importantly though, he taught me how to value myself, and that I wasn’t just an object to be used by men. He taught me what it meant to love and be loved, for which I am eternally grateful. 

    Thankfully we aren’t teenagers forever (thank God), and now as an independent woman in my 30s I hardly recognize the girl I was back then. That fucked up teenager seems like a lifetime ago, a completely different person. I remember hating and punishing myself for my behaviour, but it wasn’t my fault, I was only a child. If I could go back now, I’d give my younger self a big hug and tell her that she doesn’t need approval from men, that she is worthy of love and deserves better. 

    I’m happy to say that I have a better relationship with my family now, and don’t hate men anymore (took a lot of therapy, but I think we got there eventually). Having said all that, a lot of the thoughts and feelings that I internalized as a child and a teenager are still there (they never completely leave you), I just wrap it up as feminism now and internally scream ‘down with the patriarchy’ whilst riding cock (joking). Men can still enjoy my body, but it’s on my terms now and they pay for the privilege, along with everything else of course. 

    Sometimes when things are bad and I’m feeling depressed or lonely, I’ll revert back to old destructive patterns of behaviour and get drunk and fuck some random guy; but most of the time this behaviour is under control. I’m not the person I used to be; I value myself, and don’t need constant validation from men, or anyone else for that matter. I mean, I still get my tits out and use my sexuality to get what I want sometimes (old habits die hard), but I know I’m so much more than that. I’m an intelligent, ambitious and resourceful young woman who’s funny and good company; having great tits and a juicy arse is just a bonus. 

    Emily-Rose xxx