I took analytical reading and writing at Temple my freshman year. One of the first assignments was understanding narratives of self. It was about how on social media everything is curated. I wrote an essay about the concept, and my thesis was something like “Does everyone know that they are constantly manipulating everyone around them while they participate in social media?” I guess maybe I had a different relationship with the internet at the time. Mostly because my freshman year was my first time stunting naked on the internet.
Maybe it was the sexting I got into during quarantine, or maybe it was the Youtubers I grew up watching who were now launching their Only Fans and owning their sexuality that piqued my interest. I honestly can’t say I ever found promiscuity on the internet daunting or absurd.
Porn used to be in magazines, DVDs or even midnight movies. Now it is a huge, oversaturated, never-boring marketplace that I participate in from the comfort of my own home. I grew up in the right generation to connect online with strangers. In my youth, I learned through countless Youtuber apologies, AO3 fanfiction and 4chan forums that everything can and will be done on the internet. More importantly, everything stays, so always be aligned with your own morality and politics, and don’t break the law.
From my first stream, I don’t think I ever actually felt confident that this would work.
Something about partaking in an industry that can bankrupt people or lead them into a deep depression doesn’t sit right with me sometimes, but most of the time I don’t pay attention to that. If you want to jerk off until the skin is raw, that’s none of my business. I am a naked girl on the internet. You are just looking for an excuse. I work hard to keep my job professional. I don’t get too close to regulars, and they know not to get caught in limerence with me.
Let’s be clear: this a job. Some streams, I think I’ll be able to clock out early from the tips coming in. Other days, I am blown away by the vigor men will show when they are horny. I recognize I am being financially compensated for being attractive and how stupid this concept is. The more important point that comes with this job is that it’s performative. I have created a persona that only exists when I am working. Which is kind of weird, but it isn’t a half bad situation to find yourself in when you’re twenty-something.
Being a camgirl is a unique branch of sex work. It is different from stripping, being a sugar baby or even having an OnlyFans. There is a dynamic taking place between you and a watcher, it is live and personal, and you never touch. You’re allowed to be sexy, but if you’re too sexy you can turn off someone who isn’t into that; sometimes people want you to be more real and personal, and you must convince them that you’re being real.
It really is a double life where you must keep things separate. The overlap is that camming has given me a lot of space to think about my own relationship with sex. I don’t learn things about pleasure from camming. I know it is important to take care of myself and my mind in this kind of field. Sex is important to me. I am a sexual person.
The mentality that I work to keep is, camming needs me, and I don’t need camming. The reality about sex work is that some people make this their main source of income. To that, I say cheers, thank you! I have an ungodly amount of respect for these individuals.
I once walked into a professor’s office to talk about a project I was working on, and I saw one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen during my time in college–a hat that said, “Be nice to sex workers.”
Every time I share this info with someone, it feels like a confession. I grew up Catholic, so I know what I’m talking about. It is not uncharted territory for me to feel judged even for a second by those close to me; the best way I can describe it is literally swallowing your own vomit.
There is never a correct response I am hoping to get from people. The only time I look for the right response is from a potential love interest; this is honestly my favorite thing to have up my sleeve.
Nice is a boring word, but in the same sentence as sex workers, it brings me a lot of peace and comfort. It is so hard to remember that people think about people like me outside their bedrooms. When the camera shuts off, I plummet into a plank on my bed. I debrief with the reflection in my mirror, and if it was a bad night, I will acknowledge that. If it was a good night, I will acknowledge that, too. I get myself a glass of water, take my makeup off. Maybe I shower, maybe I don’t. I take my melatonin gummy, or I smoke a bowl and remember how much I love the internet.
