The Lure and Power of Prostitution for Sex Addicts – Part 1
This is the first in a two-part series. It comes from a discussion with an escort and webcam girl working in a major U.S. city. Her name and city have been changed for this article.
On the outside, Adele appeared to come from the perfect Midwestern family with wholesome American values. Photos exist of Adele and her brother from grades K through 12 in their crisp Catholic school uniforms with their hair expertly groomed and perfect smiles painted on their faces, if not shining from their eyes. Adele’s father was in upper management for a large Chicago corporation, and her mother had once been a professional ballet dancer who still carried herself with tremendous grace. But Adele’s mom had experienced severe post-partum depression with each of her children—something the family never talked about. Although her mother had been hospitalized many times, she he had never quite recovered and still struggled with depression. From the outside, she simply appeared quiet and reserved, which others attributed to the fact that she was an artist. But behind closed doors, Adele’s mother might as well have lived on Mars. She remained locked away in her room at all times, leaving her children to learn to fend for themselves. Attention, much less affection, were out of the question.
A Template for Sex Addiction
As for Adele’s father, he stayed away from home under the misconception that children are the domain of women, and worked a great deal, though eventually Adele and her brother learned that their father had had a series of affairs with administrative assistants and interns at his company. In Adele’s world, to receive the love of a mother was out of the question. It was something that only happened to other people or in the movies. To receive the love of a father—at least someone else’s—was to be sexy, sexual and subservient. So the good Catholic child who made excellent grades and excelled in dance and volleyball became quietly promiscuous. When a man desired her sexually and sought her out, or “chased” her, she learned that she felt powerful, if not entirely loved. When she was hunted for what she could offer with her body, she believed, if only in those moments, that she was worthy.
Adele was introduced to prostitution by a man from her church, the same man who, years earlier, had introduced her to sex. She had been 14 when Freddie was 36. He found Adele again at 18 and convinced her that he loved her. She should have been leaving for college but, with no direction or support, she was easy prey. Freddie moved her in with him. Rather than protesting or attempting to convince her to make a different choice, Adele’s parents stopped speaking to her. Soon, Freddie told Adele he couldn’t afford to take care of her unless she helped, and he had a very clear idea about how. Freddie became Adele’s first pimp.
It would be four years before she would break away from his abusive control, and once she did, she still had the problem of where to go and how to support herself. Sex for money was simple, which is not the same as easy, and it kept its hold on her. She created online ads and a webcam site, and her newfound independence was thrilling. It was the first time Adele could keep the money she made, which she discovered felt even more powerful than being the undivided object of a man’s sexual attention. She became addicted to the money. She became obsessed with how many dollars she could make in a single day and says she simply couldn’t refuse to turn away a john or a sexual request—not even when she suffered painful physical consequences or, worse, the experience of heightened shame. She’d already acquired a great deal of shame, but the high she says she felt from the power that came when seeing how much money she’d earned allowed her to mask those difficult feelings, if only for a little while—at least until she could assuage them by turning the next trick.
Addiction to Prostitution
Adele says, “Nobody wants to have to do this kind of work if they can help it. I usually like to drink a couple of shots to help me through it, but if I run out of vodka or Jäger, or if I don’t have any Xanax for a while, it doesn’t matter. All I have to do is think about the money and I can get through it. As the john is doing his thing, or I’m doing whatever, I just count my money in my head. That’s how I get through it. But I also think about it most of the rest of the time, too. It’s like I’m obsessed.
“If I’m not working, I start to calculate how much money I’m not earning and it starts to make me really anxious. It’s like I have cravings for the money, not really for the sex.” She adds, “I used to love sex but now I hate it. But I love the money. And I love the way I feel when a guy spots me across a room and gives me that look, or just the notification alert on my computer when a customer requests a private chat. It makes me feel so powerful! I get excited just thinking about it, and if I’ve been anxious or depressed from not having a date or a cam client hit me up, it really calms me down. I start running the numbers in my head and then everything feels good again. It’s addictive for me. Anybody who says it isn’t doesn’t get it.”