I book Secret Job sessions almost exclusively via email. I know it costs me a lot of business, but I just can’t stand vetting potential clients on the telephone. I don’t even like to talk to my friends on the phone. Strange men and phone freaks provoke anxiety and despair. I just can’t deal.
So, email it is. I get a lot of bad, frustrating email responding to my ads. This one is particularly egregious:
EntitledD-Bag: You are lovely. Let’s have a date. I would like to take you to dinner.
::le sigh:: Entitled D-bag is looking in the wrong damn section of craigslist. You want to look in the PERSONALS section, D-bag!
Usually I would just delete this email and move on, but his cluelessness has irritated me. It has irritated me very much, and I just can’t let it go.
I respond: Certainly. My fee is $$$/hour. Let me know when you would like to make an appointment.
Incredibly, Entitled D-bag writes back: No, I don’t want a that sort of appointment. I want a real date.
Can you believe it? Can you?!?!?!
I spell it out for him: Look, guy, this is not a personals ad. I’m here to work.
Entitled D-bag: It’s a pity that you hate what you do so much that you have to call it “work.”
I know, I know….I shouldn’t have let it get to me. This clueless jerk was not worth another second of my time. There was no point in interacting with him further. But I just couldn’t let it go. He really pissed me off.
This is my response to him:
Listen up, asshole. I am not running a charity for your stupid little cock. I am not obligated to give my time and attention away for free to every man who requests it. No woman is. What the hell are you thinking up there in whatever passes for your brain? Should I just quit all of my jobs and spend my time going out with every man who wants to see me? I could devote my life to it…at least until I get old enough that they’re no longer interested! Yeah–that’s the ticket! I have to be fair to All Teh Menz, because men are entitled to my time! I ought to live FOR THEM!
Somehow I doubt that he’ll respond, but if he does, I’ll post the email.
And this goes for you, too–all you guys who answer my prodomme ads begging to be my “personal” sub who then turn hostile when I politely explain that I’m not looking for a personal right now (yes, you, Mr. “If-you-were-really-a-domme-you-wouldn’t-need-to-get-paid-for-it” NOT-sub): Are you fucking kidding me? You are not extremely good-looking and you are not extremely interesting. So, why on earth should I want to watch you dress up in women’s lingerie and stick a carrot up your ass on webcam FOR FREE? Why on earth would I want to accept “oral service” (barf! barf! barf! barf!) from a complete stranger who looks like Woody Allen? Do you really think that I am going to invite a strange man to my apartment, dress up in leather and 5-inch heels, and follow him around wacking him with my riding crop while he does a half-assed job cleaning my bathroom in the nude? Here, let me put some of my dirty underpants on your head and in your mouth while you rinse the rest of them in the sink under my direct supervision, perv…YEAH RIGHT!!!
And you, Dave, the client I gave walking papers to last week after you got all butt-hurt and whined about how “deeply disappointed” you were that I had no intention of EVER “allowing you” to “give me” an orgasm: why on earth would I want you to give me an orgasm, Dave? Can you explain this to me? Why? Why would I “let” you? Because orgasms are fun, so I should just let anyone who wants to give me one, give me one? As if an orgasm was just a nice gift, like a cookie or a bouquet of flowers, that I would be crazy to turn down? Is that your reasoning?
But Dave…here’s the thing…you are 1) obnoxious, 2) creepy, and 3) ugly. I do not like you. So why would I want to “allow you” to give me an orgasm? And when you tried to guilt-trip me when I told you NO, it made me dislike you so much that now you cannot even pay me to hang out with you. I know it must be difficult to be so unattractive that you cannot even pay someone to spend time with you…maybe you should take this as an opportunity to meditate on how your behavior comes across to the people around you, Dave. You got fired by a sex worker, Dave. I’ve fired three clients in my entire professional career, Dave. You are No. 3. Think about it.
“But why? WHY? WHY?” you asked, when I fired you.
“Because you have boundaries issues, Dave,” I said.
“What do you mean?” you asked. I like the way your clueless self now thinks you are owed further explanation.
“I BEG YOU TO RECONSIDER!!!” was your next email to me, in all caps. Not very submissive, Dave. Who are you trying to kid? You’re outraged that I said told you NO. That’s your problem. You don’t respect me.
And that’s perfectly okay with me. Your respect is not a prize that I covet, Dave.
You are lucky that I have professional ethics, Dave. If I didn’t, I’d be forwarding all of your stupid demanding pervy emails to your colleagues at CitiBank (you are a financial services creature. Imagine my surprise. WHAT A SHOCKER!). I see them all on your Linkdin profile. I could do it with impunity, because you have no idea who I am. I had a feeling you were a scumbag from the get-go, so I didn’t give you ANY information about me…I even lied about the books I was reading on my Kindle.
And those Cirque du Soliel tickets you gave me that I didn’t ask for…? I am going to sell them on Craigslist for $1 apiece. Do you think I don’t know that you plan to sit three rows behind me and jerk off the entire time, you creepy stalker? I am going to sell the tickets TO DUDES. HA!