The future makes even more sense.
Before seashells, before a stick carved in a way that it became a tool of use, before a shiny something or other, before a rock that was just so right for whatever task was to hand, the human need to trade was there. Present. It is the basis of being embodied.
Before we were embodied, we were all one, and in truth, we will all become one again when we die. Our race on earth to accumulate, to carve out, to make more room for ourselves as individuals is a silly game confined to a little slice of time, a mere dimension, of which there are an infinite number.
And here we are. Our pleasure, our comfort, our freedom from want, from fear, and our freedom to believe are the bedrock of self-determination. I do not decry or fight against this tide which is the essence of our temporal world, I simply seek to understand, and describe what appears.
Sex is the original money. Money is a medium of exchange. The essence of embodiment is separation, to separate one from another. None of us are complete. Our decoupling, the existence of a binary, of two sexes, means that at minimum we need, yes, that is the word I choose, need, to be with another. Without such coupling, life is less rich.
But finding the right person, even as an amoeba (should we grant personhood to our single-celled siblings?), is essence of life. I have described that love is the essence of life, its meaning, not reproduction, and this hews true. But even more fundamentally than love, embodiment is a process of being torn away from the fabric of the universe, whose essential “law” is one-ness…that is an act of violence, tearing a piece of soul from the great oneness, that is inherently traumatic. Could it ever be otherwise?
I should wonder on the purpose of this process, but perhaps it is to prevent stasis. Renewal, evolution, change is the only constant.
And my friends, the physical medium of this process is the womb. The carrier of the womb is the woman. She is that which through existence itself is constantly renewed. Whether women are better or worse than men is neither here nor there, but what is essential is that this is a holy act. A process for which certain souls have been selected. Respecting that act, that status, should be a basic condition of humanity.
What went wrong?
Somewhere along the line, perhaps this is the moment of original sin, men decided that being appreciative of the role that every uterine, baby-carrying woman somehow endangered them, threatened their well-being. Being in the background, being supportive, being the worker bee, somehow being the platform not the stage, made men feel, “heck, I want more.” And “if I’m doing the work why shouldn’t I?” And, “after all, I am stronger.” To me, this sequence is the true original sin.
And like Pandora’s Box, once this line of thinking escaped, it could never be put back. And what happened? Men decided to use their physical strength to redraw the lines of a correct society. To construct a world based on disrespect…not a lie, but rather a simple act of not honouring the sacred role that a woman plays in chaos, in permanent change, in the liquidity of the universe.
Women, to their credit, have a deeper-than-biology understanding of this sacred charge, and as such have become the earthly guardians of Mercy. Forgiveness is the closest any of us can come to purity, whether man or woman. When we are forgiven, not when we are forgiving, because we are all sinners, it is when we are cleansed. And no humans are more adept at washing the filth away, the detritus of misplaced actions and feelings, than a loving and merciful woman.
Understandably, the flip of this is rage…and female rage has as its shadow, the divine act of mercy. Both should be respected in equal measure.
The original medium of exchange—why it morphed
Regardless of the cultural context, or even of the thread and direction of the world, we are inherently seeking our compliment. Sexuality is simply a divining rod, a tool to help us as individuals find someone who completes us in some way. I have come to regard sexuality as God-talk, speaking in tongues, the closest we come to the meaning of life, divinity, our reason for being…it is teaching something profound. Like the universe itself, it must evolve. It may not eddy. The eddies and byways are places of stagnation, fetish, not about their true purpose.
But finding someone is hard. In some ways, it becomes harder. I can’t say whether the way we have made things is making it worse, but it is not easy. What happens? Without a soul mate we have need, and sometimes that feeling becomes acute. And whether men need it more than women could be easily linked to the added grounding that comes with a deep inner knowing that one is essential to the birthing of life, of knowing that a higher purpose is wired into our very essence. Pity the man who does not have that, and must, by his own resources, find his purpose in life…it is not enough for a man to simply find and support a woman. His purpose must naturally stray wider than that…whereas hers is already fulfilled. And hence, a man must quest, and in truth, it is the woman who fuels his strength and confidence to pursue that quest.
Pity the uterine woman who cannot conceive. She is cruelly denied this quiet confidence, but she is also denied the keys to the patriarchal washroom, but in order to be relevant, must compete in the world designed by men, with little regard to people like her. The sterile man, on the other hand, at least has the wind in his sails from a social structure rigged in his favour.
A man who chooses to cheat on his partner is possibly doing so because he has not yet achieved that which is necessary for him to feel that he has proven his worth. Whether that is a pathological need to underline his ongoing fecundity, his immature desire to flex his muscle and show he still has ‘it’, or because he is a nobody, a willing woman is always there to succour him.
I am an enthusiastic supporter of the Sex Worker…and in this sense I am referring to the woman, but the rule applies for any formation of this, for the goal is connection. People turn to sex workers not to get off, even if that is what their first order goal is, but to connect, to be understood, to be seen, to be felt, to have a voice, to feel for just a moment that they are unified. Because of the way our world is, and because of the sacred role women play in it, there should be no surprise that the demand is for female sex workers. Those who are most likely to be disconnected are those born without purpose…those who are most likely to seek that kind of connection are those who are at greatest risk of not finding enough in themselves to make them feel connected.
I am not judging. Not all men approach a sex worker with a clean heart. Ditto, not all sex workers have clean hearts. But it can be pure, it can be holy, it can be a sacred act. When you have the fundamental essence of coming to life as an act of separation, this desire to reunify is the most fundamental soul-ache that can happen. Is it any wonder that people seek it out? Is it any wonder that this is as true of humanity as anything else.
Sex work is the oldest profession for the simple reason that the most basic and fundamental medium of exchange is sex. Before shells or anything else, what we needed to buy from each other was human connection. And we need it to survive. And for those of us who can’t get it any other way, or who need more, for whatever reasons, a market emerged. And that market was trade in sex.
And it should not be surprising that this meant (most usually) women, who have in greater abundance that which is desired, and which is a function of their sacred role on this earth. And it should not be surprising that men, who have to work harder to find themselves, should be the buyers. [Please forgive me for generalizing, but the weight of the numbers speak thus].
And the variety, including the kink, are simply representations of the divergent needs that each of us have in order to feel complete, fulfilled.
What could go right?
Imagine a world where this was no longer necessary. Imagine a world where women were respected for their holy role, and that the structure of society was not organised around repressing them, from celebrating this role. What would need to be different? What would be different?
First off, the simple idea of equality would be tossed aside. We are not equal. We are different, and those differences should breed more respect, not less. This is as true of the sexes as it is for any individual. The rules don’t change. We must contribute equity in equal measure, but equality implies a level of sameness that doesn’t exist. We should each be celebrated for our uniqueness, our diversity, that which makes us special, not that which makes us the same as everyone else. A starting point is to celebrate all women for their unique and sacred gift.
First off, a woman’s independence should be sacred. What do I mean? No woman should ever be forced to make a choice out of economic necessity. Ideally, none of us would, but women, in particular, because of the added vulnerability of child-rearing, and the unbreakable power of motherhood, are more vulnerable. What kind of society, therefore, would never put a woman in the position of having to choose because she needs to, not because she has found the right one?
And women, perhaps even more than men, wish to find the “right” one, because the choice itself has more permanence, whether perceived or real. To answer the question, it would be a kind of society that did not just empower women socially, professionally, emotionally, spiritually (all aspects of which remain out of balance today), but also financially. Is it possible that for society to achieve its full potential, all women everywhere, of any age, should be paid. Just to be. I know that we speak of this idea of a living wage. Perhaps it is not a question of wage, but access to support.
Real life begets problems to lofty solutions, and paying people on a differentiated basis is dangerous, and perhaps insurmountably complex. Just as the “progressive” nature of graduated income tax is there to level the playing field, but continually attracts attacks, this would be no different. An even payment, a base living standard, removes the need, and just as we would achieve extraordinary efficiencies under a flat-tax regime, a true living wage that ensured a respectable standard of living for all, would do this in ways that would allow women the chance to step into their full agency.
I am prepared to compete with any woman, any trans woman, or any man, for a woman whose charms would salve my soul in ways that no other would. I will not use apps to find her, but trust in providence to guide me her way.
A small anecdote. The other day, I was on the London Underground, and a woman came onto the crowded rush-hour train who was an energetic embodiment of everything I desire, find beautiful. She was as tall as me, covered in tattoos, and wearing rings very similar to the ones on my own fingers—those of you who know me, know exactly what she looked like. She was all the way on the other side of the car, and I was wedged against the wall, until she wasn’t, she was right next to me, pushing her hard ass into me. A random series of door-openings and enterings and exitings of people somehow “randomly” made this happen. I hadn’t moved. You decide.
The whole universe vibrated for me, I couldn’t see anymore…this is what happens to me. She was turning her phone to me, making me look at a QR code, and I couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t process what was happening. I wondered if she was wanting me to see something, but I couldn’t figure out what. When it was my time to exit, I turned to her, and my face 10 cm from hers, breaking all social protocol on the underground, said, “miss, may I?” and held my hand to my chest, bowed my head a tiny bit, and then looked her in the eye and said, “you are so incredibly beautiful.” She lit up like the Manhattan skyline, electric with beauty, and said “thank you,” with a warmth that bathed me all the way out into the fresh city air. I was in a terrible rush as I was late to a dinner date with someone I cherish…but I despaired that I would never see her again.
My dinner date commiserated. “You will see her again.” Well. Wouldn’t you know it. AI may be a manifestation of God on the planet, but the very next day, and randomly in my Instagram feed, there she was. I shall let you know if we ever find each other again.
Back on target
Men are afraid of women, because women have sex power that they do not. And the origin of money is in sex power.
Sex power is the closest we come to God on this earth. Which means women, in their holiness, have more God juice than men do.
That’s a fact of the universe. This trans person will confess, I envy that. I also hate that this is not respected at a societal level so much that I will cut my bits off, repurpose them into a facsimile, which I do out of protest as much as desire.
There are men who resist that notion. Perhaps half. We call them chauvinists, but that is the extent of their crime. They know not better because they are ignorant, and in their ignorance lies the comfort of smug satisfaction. It is not conscious, nor malicious, and many women also find comfort in this. There are other men who are resentful, perhaps 40%, and this manifests in a variety of small to large toxicities. At their worst, we call them incels, rapists, predators, toxic men. They poison the well for all. The remaining 10% are various flavours of Queer, a gushing kaleidoscope of human expression which is like the fringe on my shawl…it’s what makes the shawl special, but it also gets caught in zippers and things from time to time.
Making sense of history
A quick recap. If sex was the first medium of exchange, then it was the original money. If sex is money, money needs to be protected. Just like those armoured cars that ply our streets moving cash around, the financial equivalent for raw sex. It is only natural that a patriarchal system would get structured around it to “protect” this sexual commerce. Because, sex, like money, has value. Pleasure has value. Men, with their greatest physical strength emerged from the mists of time as enforcers. We forget, however, that the need to protect arrives from the existence of thieves, of predators, of people who take advantage of ours, who pluck the flowers they should not.
Women on the other hand are self-regulating, as the consequences of child-birth, child-rearing, fall disproportionately on them. One of the conditions of modern society should be that the rule of law is sufficient to keep the predators in check. Sadly, it is not. Sadly, a great number of men instead of getting onboard turn to increasingly nasty and virulent ways of thinking, viz. the incel.
Women don’t actually need men
Women may choose to love men. May choose to love a particular man. All three of the Dommes I have played with love men. It probably helps them to thrive in their work. That love begets mercy which is conducive to empathy in the role. I probably belong with a domme who loves women. It makes more sense. Even if a woman loves men, she doesn’t need one, particularly if society works.
I was with a group of women recently and they were lamenting that men have lost their way. That men no longer know how to be men. I hear the lament often, but I also think it is a bit silly. One could say that women have forgotten how to be women just as easily. Both of those tropes, however, depending on a kind of social structure and hierarchy that makes me sick…it is the essence of patriarchy. You can’t have one without the other.
Of course, it is a bit rich for me as a castrato, a former man who has taken chastity, female power, and the need to apologise to such an extreme that I have ended my life as a man. No matter. What matters is that a man steps into a world where women choose, women have agency, and ultimately have more power. What kind of man thrives in that world? What kind of man is desired in that world? That’s the man to be.
This is my theory. What do you think?