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Open Christmas Letter

Because “Holiday” is for Communists, and this is America.


I’m not a big family guy – if you know me, I’m sure we’ve talked about it at some point. I’m at an age where most of my family scatters for the major holidays, lest we should all have to spend time together instead.  We’re all rather strong personality types and discovered a few years ago that it was easier and more fun to go do things we liked during Thanksgiving and Hanukkah and Christmas than to force ourselves together for extended periods of time.

And I am A-OK with that. I love being in the city for the holidays because all the very worst people (the types who complain about New York constantly, and will give up and go back to St. Olaf, MN in a few years to spend the rest of their lives talking about how they “used to lived in New York,”) leave, and then it’s just me and all the people who are actually from here. It’s magical.

Tonight, my best friend and I will go to midnight mass at a beautiful church on 5th Avenue (just down from Abercrombie, because – again – this is America and Jesus loves Capitalism) and have dinner afterwards to talk about the year that’s about to pass and people we know and what their lives are like. After that, I’ll crawl into bed and read some more of my book before sleeping until all hours of the next morning.

And I’ll think about how very lucky I am.

About how I have this silly job that allows me to be exactly who I want to be, and live my life exactly the way I want to live it.  I don’t have to spend my days at a 9-5 that sucks the very life force from my body. I don’t answer to someone I don’t respect.  I love my neighborhood and my apartment and all the guys who let me play with their Penises sometimes. I pay my taxes and I pay for my health insurance and I don’t have to live on the fringes of society because I’m a sexworker.


This career has given me freedoms that are so varied and many I couldn’t possibly be grateful enough for all of them. No one could. But I am mindfully grateful for the men in my life who make it possible for me. For the guys reading this. For you. Without you I would just be a horny 20 something trying to justify a huge collection of underwear and explain to people why all my clothing has semen on it. But you get it. I know you do.

So this Christmas, I will think about you, and I will be glad you allow me into your life in this way. Because despite the money and the orgasms and the whatever else comes with this work – it matters to me. It matters inside. What I get to share isn’t faked or put on or played up for your amusement. It’s just who I am.

I’m lucky you’re part of that.


Happy Christmas.





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