I almost didn’t blog this, because this jackass doesn’t deserve even ten minutes of attention, but he upset me…so here it is.
Indian guy. Young. My age.
I hate to say it, but: my experience with Indian clients is almost all negative. I really do hate to say that. because I had Indian friends in my grad program, and I had an Indian client/boyfriend in New York I was tremendously fond of…a genius, a very enlightened feminist gentleman. He was a wonderful person in all respects and he enhanced my life, and I have nothing but appreciation and admiration for the man. I don’t want to sound like a narrow-minded provincial bigot. I don’t want to be racist. I am a guilty polite liberal. I don’t want to be racist.
But Indian clients…are the worst.
Disingenuous and hostile, for no reason. And misogynistic.
Get this: this Indian guy books a session, passes screening, arrives to my hotel suite.
He claimed to be submissive…but he wasn’t.
Less than 10 minutes into the session, he said to me, in a very strong and judgmental tone, out of nowhere–apropos of nothing: “Your pussy stinks. Go wash it!”
I was stunned. I stood there blinking at him like I was pole-axed.
Okay, first of all, I was wearing two pairs of underwear–a thong and lacy boyshorts. Under a cocktail dress. And I was standing five feet away, and this man had no contact with my crotch at all.
How on earth could he have any idea what I smelled like…? (Answer: he was making it up)
Also: I’d just taken a shower! Not even 30 minutes ago! If I physically exert myself in a session, or have any significant physical contact with a client, I take a shower afterward! I stagger my sessions with (at least) an hour break in between, so that I can bathe and clean the room! I’d just had a hot shower, with soap! Certain-Dri deodorant, shaving, the works!
Now, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but: this douchebag made me second-guess myself. I stood there, mortified, wondering if maybe I was getting my period…? Did I have a yeast infection…? Did I smell bad…?
It took a minute, but confidence returned. I looked at this pathetic, twitchy little misogynistic asshole. I mean, who speaks to a woman like that? And What did I ever do to him?
It was all about cruelty and control. Shame.
“The only thing RANK around here is your MISOGYNY. This session is over and you need to get the fuck out of here RIGHT NOW,” I said. I walked to the door and opened it, standing in the doorway.
He looked utterly astonished, as if I’d done something bizarre.
Then the hatred clouded over his face, and he started getting dressed in a hurry.
I know that I shouldn’t have explained or said anything else, but my feelings were hurt! I was so offended! I said: “I am a nice clean girl and I just got out of the shower! I can’t believe you could be so rude! Why do you even see sex workers, if you hate women so much?”
He was FURIOUS. I could feel it coming off of him in waves.
I gave him half of his money back. I know I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t want to antagonize the crazy man. He’d only been in the room 15 minutes.
I was still upset and I couldn’t control my mouth. I said: “You know, most heterosexual men adore the smell of a clean woman. Maybe you should check your sexual orientation.”
He almost punched me in the face on his way out the door. I stepped into the hallway and reminded him that he was on camera.
He walked to the elevator, trying to look cocky…as if he hadn’t just been FIRED BY A SEX WORKER.
You were fired…by a sex worker. Think about it, dude. Think about it real hard. You literally cannot pay a woman to hang out with you.
What a jerk. BLACKLISTED.
P.S. Sorry this post is depressing…I also saw an awesome Japanese client who was wonderful, and he’s taking me out for sushi next week! lovely man