Sex & disability

I went to a meeting of SHADA (The Sexual Health and Disability Alliance) last week.  It was such an eye-opener.  I met many health professionals and sexual advocates, one who himself was an amputee.  He teaches drama and dance to the disabled in Canada and has been in the UK for four weeks on a grant, bringing his wonderful work to London.  The discussions that came up were passionate.  One lady was a teacher in a school for the disabled with special needs.  Helen Dunman, teacher at Chailey Heritage Foundation, where she has responsibility for Personal Social and Health Education and developing Sex Education.  To hear how hard she works completely humbled me.  She is absolutely 100% dedicated to her pupils, with ages ranging from the very young up to 19.  Some, she explained, were very difficult to communicate with, even with all her experience.  She works tirelessly for her pupils and I had so much admiration for her.

Sex and the young is something that’s brushed further under the radar than sex among disabled adults.  I was appalled to hear how in denial the authorities are.  As if it’s not difficult enough for young severely disabled with learning difficulties to communicate their needs, the powers that be would rather ignore an opportunity to improve the well being of our youth than make a bit of an effort and step up and do the right thing.  People like Helen are spending endless hours writing policy to enable “good practice in terms of staff ensuring that clients’ sexual needs are recognised and met”.  Of course, how policy is interpreted presents another challenge.  So it’s up to Helen and those like her to try to put clear guidelines in place and hope that eventually, these become policy for bodies such as the CQC.  What a hero.

The old cherry about carers and PAs came up frequently, in that it’s extremely difficult for a lot of them to know how to deal with the sexual feelings (and involuntary responses to touch) of their clients.  It’s not their fault; they’re just not trained.  So what happens is a whole lot of embarrassment, feelings of rejection, loss of intimacy and a lack of affection.  It’s the saddest thing imaginable.  My modest wish is to come into contact with as many as possible, to connect with and to share intimacy, to enhance sexual well being, and as a consequence improve general well being, healing, to demonstrate that being intimate and affectionate is achievable, can be maintained, and thus, can be shared with others.  This may not even involve sex – it may just be enjoying closeness.  As I’ve said before, it’s nothing to do with performance, experience, knowledge of anatomy or how many partners there have been.  Honouring oneself and others is all that matters.  Intimacy should be enjoyed and celebrated!

There was one very interesting guy at the meeting from Copenhagen.   His job back home is to assist his disabled clients with masturbation.  He gave a fascinating talk and described how, with different toys and implements, he could help folk to do it themselves.  He doesn’t masturbate them; they are able to stimulate themselves, with his help.  What a wonderful thing to do for people!  He had my total respect and admiration.  He’s kept very busy, too, which is a good sign for the folks over there.

I wish things were different, so that anyone who was unable to pick up the phone themselves, could tell their carer or PA that they’d like a sex worker to visit them, without fear of embarrassment (on either side) or loss of dignity.  In fact, the term ‘sex worker’ makes people like me sound harsh, unsympathetic.  This is not the case at all.  I love any chance I can possibly get to brighten up someone’s day, fulfilling their needs as much as is within my power to do.

There’s a site called www.sexualrespect.com, from Tuppy Owens.  Although predominantly designed for health care professionals, there is some very interesting reading.

I ended my last blog with a poem, written from the heart (by a songwriter, not me!), about how wonderful a gift that giving is.  Some joke that giving is selfish, because it feels so good to do it.  For me, that’s the right way to give; no strings, unconditionally.  When I visit a client as an escort, I feel excitement, not just sexual, but like I do when I give someone a present and I can’t wait for them to open it, to see the look on their face, hoping they’ll like it!

I want my clients to be happy, of course.   But I try to understand their needs as early on as I can, whatever they are, and some requests I get are as uncomplicated as ‘being held’.  So I try to feel connected to my clients as soon as possible, so they get the best of me, get what’s best for them, and I can do as they ask.  That way, we both enjoy the experience and give to each other.  I like to have a chat on the phone first to find out what they want, so when I arrive, the ice is broken, sort of thing, and they can let me know if there are any particular requirements that’ll make my visit the best it can be.

I do believe, though, that a really important thing is, if it’s at all possible, to be able to ask for what you want.  We can’t be truly ‘present’ if we’re distracted by thoughts of something, even as simple as needing to go to the bathroom, or wanting a drink of water, or wanting to move a part of the body to get more comfortable.  And if our needs are more like, “I wish I could be kissed like this,” “I wish we could just cuddle,” or “I would like to know how to please her/him, but I don’t know how to say it,” then sharing the message becomes even more important.  But things like this can be difficult for someone to convey, perhaps if speech is difficult, or if it’s been some time since intimacy, if ever, in which case, the right words may not exist.  How could they?  Shyness, embarrassment, fear of rejection; these are all things that can prevent us from speaking out.  But I always find a way in the end!  Just with a little mutually exchanged patience, usually.

Often, our conditioning has taught us that asking for what we want is wrong, especially if it’s very personal to us, and particularly if it’s to do with sex.  Many of us were taught that sex shouldn’t be spoken openly about, should be kept private, perhaps it’s rude or dirty.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

There are a million ways to give and receive pleasure.  As many as you can think up.   But the same reasons that prevent us from speaking out can also prevent us from finding ways to give and receive pleasure, whether with another or on our own.  It’s our right to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh – everybody’s right, we deserve pleasure!  I’m just sorry that more don’t recognise this – it’s important to the well-being of everyone.  Sex is a great healer.  But also sex isn’t about ‘performance’.  It’s about taking time to really feel and enjoy the other person, really wanting to please, taking time to understand and find out what makes them glow.   And it’s just as important to know how to pleasure ourselves, using feeling, wanting, and time, for ourselves, in just the same way.

I’ve recently begun visiting an older gent in his own home who has had mobility problems for many years now, due to an operation that went wrong.  He’s such a lovely man and very spritely for his advanced years and for someone who can’t get about!  He talks to me about his family, makes me tea and offers me cakes.  He also makes sure there’s plenty of time for pleasure.  There’s no intercourse, but that doesn’t matter.  And thank goodness he understands that there’s no expectation of performance.  It’s just the mutual exchange of caring, love and respect.  My clients are so special.  They’re all so different and mean so much to me.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to visit a lovely guy who’s been wheelchair-bound for 20 years due to a scuba-diving accident.  He’s 42 now and lives in the care of a Leonard Cheshire facility.  He was pronounced brain-dead and was in a coma for six months.  He’s a miracle!  He can’t walk or stand unaided and needs full-time care.  However, he hasn’t experienced any kind of intimacy since before his accident and he has, as you can imagine, missed it!  So not only has he had to contend with coming back to life, coming to terms with his disability, and maintaining as healthy a life as possible, but he also has all the feelings that a red-blooded male has.  Of course he does!  I was privileged to be his first sexual experience in all that time and it was passionate, and lovely.   We chatted at first, got to know each other and had a few laughs about different things.  He has a positive and inquisitive mind and keeps himself busy writing, amongst other things, and swimming when he can.

I consider myself fortunate to be in the sex industry, I’m taught so much, but I’m saddened at just how closed people are when it comes to discussing the needs of those who can’t make their own arrangements, like the guy I just mentioned.  Arranging my visit to him wasn’t made easy because there’s no way to facilitate it.  It should be a simple procedure so that disabled and those cared for are able to have as normal a sex life as the rest of us.

I mentioned in my last blog about carers at the care home I visit my gentleman with cerebral palsy not making eye contact with me.  I can appreciate that they may be embarrassed, but I would love them to engage with me, so I could speak to them about their clients’ needs.  I could help them understand that their residents aren’t asexual, and how easy it would be for them to help.  I suppose it’s because I’m older, but I find it hard to think of someone in the ‘caring’ profession denying their clients something as natural as eating, breathing and sleeping.   I can feel a soapbox moment coming on……

I started escorting about 15 years ago. I needed to make some money to get out of debt and so I thought I’d give it a try. It’s not for everyone, but somehow I knew I could do it – and enjoy it.  I was living in Manchester at the time and called a random number from the Manchester Evening News. I spoke to a lovely lady who eventually took me under her (mature) wing and guided me through the early months until I gained confidence.  At this, I signed up with three agencies, got the work and got out of debt. For me it was ideal. I had a full time job which acted as a professional facade for me and escorted in my spare time, which built my confidence, self-esteem and bank balance.

A few years on, I fell in love with a client. All very ‘Pretty Woman’-style. He swept me off my feet and I thought he was the sliced bread. Obviously he didn’t want me to continue escorting, so I didn’t – for almost eight years – during which time, we reached our fun and sexual peak together, then gradually slid down the muddy hillside into a swamp of disrespect and, ultimately, the end of the relationship. By this time, I felt empty, unloved and unappreciated, but realised it was my own fault for hanging on for so long.  I’m sure he felt exactly the same, but we weren’t communicating by then and didn’t realise how much we were hurting each other. We saw the signs and ignored them. Everything’s a lesson, though.

Still, all that’s behind me, thank goodness, and in fact, we’re friends now!  Where’s this leading? Well, after I’d grieved the loss of being in a couple (even though it wasn’t nurturing, I still missed ‘something’), I found myself wandering back to thoughts of escorting. Some years older, yes, but my attitude towards the art itself had altered. I wanted to go back to it, but, because I was more mature, and because my love of people in general had increased a thousand-fold, I realised I wanted to do it for giving, not for taking.

Please let me explain myself. During my early years, I had a mixture of clients, some able-bodied and others who weren’t so. I always gave of my best, and never got any complaints, but on thinking back, I also realised that my thoughts towards them were no different. Not in any way whatsoever. Nevertheless, the money got was very important, as this was helping my personal cause.

Coming to the present day, I’m happy to say I have a number of clients whom I have the greatest respect for, whatever their wishes and, again, they are a mixture of bodies. But what’s driving me more and more these days is my frustration at the fact that so little attention is given, and respect paid, to the needs of those not physically able to contact a sex worker, and, in many cases those who’re unable to self-pleasure.

I’m disappointed that, when I visit the care home to see a lovely gentleman with cerebral palsy, the carers won’t make eye contact with me. He, himself, was concerned that he’d be embarrassed in front of the staff about my visits, yet was desperate for some intimacy. His dignity is vehemently maintained, of course, and he and I share some wonderful time together.

Intimacy – a beautiful word.  Most people think it means sex, but there are many levels to intimacy, even before nudity or touching of skin on skin.  Sex – another beautiful word, also with many meanings. My heart goes into my work, whatever the ability of my client. My client is the only person on the earth when we’re together. It’s their time; whether we’re talking, holding hands, kissing, caressing, or having intercourse – and everything in between. Notice I didn’t say ‘just’ at any point. There’s no ‘just’ about people connecting. Every single one of us deserves it; human contact; affection; intimacy; friendship with benefits; however you term it. When we experience it, we feel high on natural elixir. It’s the best healing we can give, and in giving, we receive. I’m grateful for the opportunity to constantly learn from my clients.

Here’s a beautiful poem about this very subject:

I never feel more given to than when you take from me, when you understand the joy I feel giving to you.

And you know my giving isn’t done to put you in my debt, but because I want to live the love I feel for you.

To receive with grace may be the greatest giving.

There’s no way I can separate the two.

When you give to me, I give you my receiving.

When you take from me, i feel so given to.

Nice, eh?