Welcome our new weekly column, “Ask a Grown Up” in which you can ask and have your most burning questions answered by a supposed grown up. Welcome back, broke asses! It is remarkable to me that the year 2019 has become the year that the most serious attack on Roe
Welcome our new weekly column, “Ask a Grown Up” in which you can ask and have your most burning questions answered by a supposed grown up. I’m baaaaacccckkkkkk! Hello young, broke, and beautiful readers! It is I, Kate the Supposed Grownup, back from the archives of this site to answer
Sex work is the world’s oldest profession, and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Often shrouded in a haze of stigma, judgement, and misunderstanding, it’s history and present is often sensationalized, marginalized, or completely silent. However, in the age of FOSTA-SESTA, silence is no longer an option we can accept.
I live on the top floor of a building constructed in 1914. To put that in context, Russia still had a Tsar when my building went up. Because it’s old and wooden, it shakes and sways. When a big truck goes by I can often feel the rumble. When they were drilling for some new construction across the way, I could feel that too. And when one of my roommates is having sex, I can most definitely feel it.
Welcome to Brain-Throbs & Blow Jobs, a brand-new column that will be highlighting the great minds and perspectives of Bay Area sex workers through interviews and photo portraits.
I don’t often go into my Spam folder. It’s usually filled with emails from Nigerian princes and cam girls who apparently are very, very wet but I’m very, very gay and not interested. Recently, in between money offers from his royal highness and girls who ask me to ‘taste their
Dads of teenage daughters, we need to talk. Not all of you, just some of you. Just those of you who are guilty of having attended a purity ball or are in the midst of planning one. You know, those creepy father-daughter dances (or HA, balls) where the girl pledges
By Rob Yaeger I remember the first time I saw a client. It was a bleak day in March 2010. It had never been my intention to be a sex worker. Yet there I was welcoming an entirely average-looking 50-something guy into a tenement apartment in the Flower District for