Fem Lobotomy
Feeling fab might get a lobotomy l8r!
A fembot is my ideal form. Not the kind of fembot that open fire on Austin Powers in Bettie Page inspired lingerie but rather my ideal form is an intuitive machine that comprehends human needs perfectly. I want to be a machine whose sole purpose is to please, cater, and comfort. I want to be a machine that can act in all the ways humans want to be cared for. As a machine I can achieve this perfection but as a human I am set up to fail so I am realizing.
I want to be flawless. From my skin to my speech pitch to my intellect- I desire perfection. I want people to wonder whether or not I’m real. I want my insides to be questioned as to whether they are cold and electric rather than palpitating and warm.
As I write this, I get a flood of emotions. One of them being disappointment. I went to liberal arts school and started a feminist club at my high school. I read “Cult of Domesticity” and The Second Sex in undergrad as well as a myriad of excerpts of feminist lit right before class. So I'm aware that my conception of care is distorted. But intellectually knowing something, is not the same as knowing it.
Will I look back on this post in the future and think about what an idiot I was to be wasting my time on pleasing other people. Or maybe when I look back I'll pity myself. Or maybe I’ll think wow so true queen…
Maybe you too think, “wow what a pity she feels this way…”
Maybe you’ll even think to text me and see if I’m alright… Don't worry, I’m good.
Instead of texting me, why don’t you ask yourself a similar question? How do you strive for perfection in your job? Family life? Romantic life? Physical appearance, etc? I can think of very few people in my personal life who do not yearn for more in themselves. Do you really want to text me to see if I am okay? Or are you texting me because this thought feeds into your whorephobic narrative that everyone in this industry is being held captive? Ask yourself.
I think it's society that has made us this way. I don’t think it all has to do with my line of work. It is a systemic issue. No matter if you're working at a hospital, non-profit, or restaurant, the world around us demands perfection and then some. At the end of the day, we are all just people attempting to secure a life for ourselves while being forced to create wealth for people who usually don’t care about us.
Within our labor system, labor is separated from the person who produces it. We are isolated from our product. So of course perfection is expected because our humanity is erased. With all that being said- I still care. I still like to please. That sounds insane though, right? Maybe I feel this way because of some sort of trauma or my upbringing. Or maybe I was born with this need to please others. I’m not sure.
Years ago, my life didn’t revolve around pleasing cis men. It was actually kind of the opposite. Instead of thinking about how to attract more cis men, I was thinking about how far and how long I could stay away from them. And when I did encounter them, how then did I make them feel uncomfortable? My friend circles were made up of women, nonbinary people, and transmen. I was rarely around cis men but when I was around them, I felt entirely on another plane of existence. My friends during this time felt the same way I did because they were too traumatized by cis men at various times in their lives. We all stuck together, moving through spaces that we wouldn’t have to interact with them. We coped with being around them by eye rolling or smirking when they spoke. When my friends and I came together again, we joked about them. Giggled about whatever menial interaction we had with them then went back to talking about Guernica or some shit.
Due to the collection of traumatic experiences of cis men in my high school and early college years, groups of men made me nauseous. Being around the frats on campus struck my nervous system like a whip. Today, my life and relationship with men is completely different. It’s kind of crazy that my life is so different from what it was just four years ago. It’s a whole other blog post of how I got to that point to my current reality of having a genuine interest in keeping steady romantic and platonic relationships with men.
To be a woman means to feel pressure. Actually, to be a human in late stage capitalism is to feel tremendous pressure. The added gender nonsense to our lives makes the pressure even more complicated. And it can make us hate each other in the process. It can make us hate our own gender or hate other genders, etc.
I do this thing during my sessions where I massage the faces of my clients’. Though slightly maternal, it’s arguably still hot because my tits are in their faces. The action is something small and soft and gentle. Three characteristics that cis men are brought up to be disgusted by. But when I do this with a client, he relaxes. His body disposition changes. He gets a little sleepy even.
I have regulars that come to me so they can really get their degradation fantasies on. Like throat fucking or slapping their dick across my face. Basically, any sexual act that is obviously more about a power exchange rather than something pleasure centered. One particular time, this rather dominant client had given me a facial as per usual but when he sat down at the edge of the table and I rubbed his back, his disposition changed completely. He stayed there naked, eyes shut and said, “wow, I don’t think I was actually horny, I think I just needed this.” To be touched. He meant he just needed to be touched.
Some of you reading this that are civ (non-swer) might be disgusted by what I just wrote but I would encourage you to look at it from a different angle. Working 40 plus hours a week for something that is emotionally and financially unfulfilling is something much more degrading. To me. And I do like providing services that can potentially make other people’s lives better. Even though I work in an industry that demands pretty much all of me, I still love to serve, to nurture, to care, to please…
Maybe I really do have a little Stockholm syndrome. But maybe not! But if I Am in some sort of great denial, why would that be? Some psychological flaw maybe, or childhood trauma. Is the desire to please okay? Or is it really “unfeminist” considering all the power dynamics at play. It is my truth that being pleasing is rewarding. So, why not encourage a behavior within myself that brings me some purpose in a world that gives me little to look forward to.
Clients usually come back and see me. And my services stay relatively affordable because I don’t believe this kind of care should be reserved only for a few that can afford the luxury. But if I were a machine, I wouldn’t have to answer any of these existential questions. I could just be a thoughtless object concerned with nothing. If fembotification is achievable in the near future, my only other request is to be dressed in classic fembot attire. See above.