Confessions Of A Former Cam Girl
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Confessions Of A Former Cam Girl

Hustle for the tokens.

I'll set the scene for you: a broke college student who needs to put food on the table, with a schedule so swamped that it's hard to set aside hours outside of classes, schoolwork, internships and campus work studies to work a part-time job while at school.

Would love to quickly say: believe me, we tried getting those jobs, but even meager four hour shifts is a lot of time out of the day if you're super busy always.

Anyways, fast forward past some agonizing over my bank account, deep research and talking to my friends who are cam models, and I decided to make an account on a cam site and become a cam model.

"What's a cam model?" you might be asking. A cam model is essentially somebody who gets naked on cam for money, and depending on the "donation" (as they're called), will do various things on the cam. As I've said before about other forms of sex work, not really a big deal.

On most cam sites, a model will go live in a big chatroom, be on cam and talk to viewers and perform when they've made their donations. There is typically a list of set prices for different things, and many models are very clear on their boundaries, though they are sometimes open to off-list requests if things are within those boundaries.

The website that I initially registered for was different, being very one-on-one. You would message or chat with people solo, and do only private cam shows for an agreed upon price per minute and time. You could also easily sell pics and videos. It really was a good deal. For reasons I will disclose later, I chose to leave the website and register elsewhere on a site with the big chatroom style.

As I crawled my way towards the finishing line of undergrad, I decided to quit camming and snooped about for freelance work (that's another story for another day), and I probably won't ever go back. The money was great, and I didn't hate the work itself, but it just wasn't for me and I wasn't happy to go live on the site anymore.

However, I did learn some really interesting things about the camming world, about life in general and even about myself while being a cam girl:

People love to waste your time and/or try to rip you off.
If I had gotten a dollar (or some tokens) for every time somebody said they'd pay me for something (it is a general rule to pay the cam model before they do anything for you) and then vanished, I'd never have to work again in my life.

There's plenty of people on those sites who are general time-wasters, which makes little sense to me when they're already agreeing to pay somebody, but whateverrrrr.

Some users of these sites will also absolutely read your prices and try to haggle with you. Every so often I'd be a little lenient if they really seemed like they'd come back to buy more (proceed with caution due to above), but most of the time you just gotta put your foot down and say, "These are my prices, and they are not changing."

That person will probably not buy, but there's always somebody out there who will.

It was definitely super annoying though, and on the first website I was on, other models began selling content for so cheap that nobody was willing to pay prices that were even slightly higher, so I ended up leaving and moving on to the second site (people thinking a dollar a minute for a ten minute show is a good offer are out of their minds).

People are gross.
Nobody who will be paying you on that site is into vanilla stuff. I will tell you that right now. Nobody. Not even a little bit.

This all makes sense, and it isn't like nobody knows this, but it can totally be startling to a new model who may not have begun to fathom the depths of depravity lurking on those sites. Obviously you can state boundaries, but there are people looking for some wild content on there.

Nothing is off-limits as long as it is within the site's rules (because the sites do indeed have their own regulated boundaries, thank god).

An example: I once had to record a video of myself peeing. Just peeing, nothing more. It was definitely weird but I was like, "Money is money" while totally wondering why people are paying for that.

I won't get too graphic, but people will ask for unconventional use of toys, things that can substitute as toys, lingerie or things totally wilder than can be said even on here (geez). You either just gotta step up and pretend you enjoy it for that cash, or quickly and firmly set the boundary. Needless to say, you learn about what makes you uncomfortable fast.

People are annoying.
Like in all service jobs, you must be nice to the customer (with a little more leniency since you're in charge here, hotshot), and that gets difficult. Between the people who are just downright rude (I'll get to them later) and the people who for some reason are trying to wife you up and/or meet up in real life (NOTE: DO NOT DO THIS, NOT EVER), sometimes you'll go online and just be thinking "you are damn annoying" the entire time.

For some reason, they all think they're perfect gentlemen (or gentlewomen) on there.

Unfortunately, customers like nice people, so you have to slather on your biggest smile and play nice. Somebody's messaged you five times in a row asking if you're online?

Hi, how are you? Someone keeps pestering you to meet up and be their "plaything"? As great as that sounds, you don't do meet-ups, sorry! Someone relentlessly sexting you on there and you aren't into it? Ooh, you're bad, I want to...

Gotta brush up on your acting skills here.

Regulars are amazing.
With all that being said, juxtaposed to annoying, gross time-wasters are people who can't give you enough money. I wish this was a problem I had all of the time (but with no work in return for said cash).

These people are the best. Usually they're very sweet, respectful and want to throw money at you because they think you're hot and/or want to see you do stuff they like. They also, like... talk to you about stuff and actually care? It's wild.

Always proceed with caution, naturally, but accept that ego boost, baby, they'll make you feel like a million bucks (and hopefully give you lots of money to start working towards having a million).

You must be devoted to your craft and have a thick skin.
Another part of the reason I ended up leaving the cam world was that I ended up not really having the heart for it. To be successful on there (as in, make salary income on there), you have to be devoted. You have to be designing pro pages, bundling up content and doing whatever you can to make money and keep people coming back.

Sex work is way harder than most people realize, like, all facets of it. You have to actually try, and I ended up so annoyed and disillusioned that I was over it.

Part of this is because you have to have thick, thick skin to be on there. I'm not really the type of person to take things strangers say to heart too often, but there's totally the occasional person on there who will harass you. Everybody is hiding behind a mask of anonymity: the customer and especially you yourself (stage names and fake locations, people!), so naturally, humans say, "I can be a total garbage can and get away with it."

I didn't really want to be told about people's fantasies of assault against me, or about anything that was blatantly not OK to say to another person. It only happened twice in my six-month run, but it was twice too many times.

I am much more confident now.
I've spent a lot of time dwelling on the negatives of camming, but I learned a lot about myself through it. Aside from being more comfortable with myself, I've seen how it's changed how I function in the real world, too. I was a push-over before, but now I'm not as meek, I'm less willing to be pushed around, will put my foot down more and I just feel more confident overall.

A lot of the negative things I've noted here are super distorted versions of real-life situations too (minus any sexual factors, probably). When aren't people trying to waste your time or rip you off? When aren't people annoying? You should probably work hard at your job, and having a thick skin is kind of necessary in this day and age.

By learning how to deal with the extremes on cam sites, I feel way more up to handling the much, much, much tamer real life scenarios.

Being a cam model may not have ended up being for me, but I don't regret a thing.

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Confessions of a College Asshole

Lying, Cheating and General Douchebaggery

Episode 11: Hole-y Easter

On the surface, Easter might not look like the kind of holiday on which to get turned up. But any holiday can be filled with alcohol and regret if you have a big enough imagination. Freshman year of college, I had that imagination. Easter was a reason to come home, and once I was there, I immediately relapsed and found myself cock-deep in Julie Baker again. I think we can all agree that there's some magical power our first loves have over us. Julie was a siren, and I was the guy from that story that Homer wrote. Odysseus? Who cares.

The bad part about fucking in my hometown is it almost exclusively happened in a car. This wasn't such a big deal in high school, because I legitimately didn't have sex on a bed until college, (for real, I still think I've mostly had sex in a car). But once you have sex where you don't bang your head on the ceiling, it's tough to go back. So I needed to think of something to resurrect (get it?) my love for motor vehicle fornication.

Julie and I agreed to meet up in an Applebee's parking lot after church, but before dinner. (That might be the worst sentence I've ever written on this site). We both moved into the trunk of her mom's minivan, and that's when I decided I wanted to move into her trunk: it was time to try anal. Julie was surprisingly down with the idea, and after some foreplay it was time to make the leap. It. Did. Not. Go. Well.

I'm not going to gross anyone out here, but let's just say Jesus isn't the only thing that needed three days to rise again. It turns out anal shouldn't be done in a confined space, the same way you shouldn't mess with a skunk in an elevator or dissect a fish in a broom closet. It took me some time, but I eventually tried anal again with much greater success, but I will never forget that fateful Easter evening.

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Confessions of a College Asshole Ep. 12

Lying, Cheating and General Douchebaggery

As graduation nears, it is now time for me to be reborn as a less assholic version of myself. To any ex-girlfriends, former booty calls, or botched hookups, I want you to know I didn't forget about you. At least, I think I didn't. What better way to end Season 1 of Confessions of a College Asshole (I'm convinced I'll have plenty of relapses) than with a bunch of haikus for every girl I've fucked?

1. You were the first one
Your mom's minivan was hot
The sex? Not so much

2. It sounded too good
'One last summer of just fun'
Heartbreak isn't fun

3. You would wave to me
When you saw me on campus
I stopped waving back

4. We broke up as friends
At least, that's what I had thought
Three years and no words

5. I said I loved you
That wasn't, like, super true
You were my rebound

6. Your best friend liked me
I got her to sign a note
'Permission to fuck'

7. We talked first, I think
Or maybe we talked after
Maybe not at all

8. On Valentine's Day
You lost your virginity
You could have told me

9. This was a show-mance
We should've fucked at the end
A rookie mistake

10. Six months of no sex
Made me last about as long
As this here haiku

11. Repeat after me:
'No more virgins, you dumbass'
At least she was French

12. I guess I fucked you
'Cause I missed America
A true patriot

13. You thought I was fun
And I thought you were sexy
I guess that's enough

14. My grandfather died
Right after our one night stand
Shouldn't have told you

15. I always wanted
To fuck an older woman
Better in my head

16. Never really thought
I would get the chance to say
'Just like your sister'

17. We would hike all day
And then we would fuck all night
Too bad summer ends

18. I made up some lie
About not being ready
I just wanted sex

19. Craziest big boobs
Like way bigger than my head
Damn, I still love boobs

20. My boner faded
But I still popped your cherry
You said it counted

21. We had a great date
Helping at the soup kitchen
Glad you're still my friend

22. I wrote you letters
And you fucked another dude
How was it my fault?

23. Creepy pillow talk
And some weed paranoia--
You know how it is

24. I only liked you
When I was fucked up on drugs
I was an addict

25. You met my girlfriend
The night after we hooked up
Thank you for lying

26. Now California
Only reminds me of you
You made it golden

27. Jesus Christ, you suck
But I was bored and lonely
And you were just there

28. You helped me get back
At number two on this list
Now you both hate me

29. You called me a douche
You used me for my body
Like I gave a shit

30. I loved you a lot
And I think I always will
Even as my friend

Until next time, Flockers.

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Confessions of a College Asshole Ep. 7

Lying, Cheating and General Douchebaggery

Episode 7: Happy Birthday

There has been exactly one girl in my life that treated me as terribly as I treat everyone else; and I'd like to tell that story to you all today, partly because it's hysterical and partly to get some sympathy pussy later on.

Way back in the summer before college, I was seeing this girl named Ericka, who you could probably guess from the way she spells her stupid name, sucked. But I was young and in love and wanted to have fucked at least two girls before going away to school. And that mission was accomplished at a drunken party on Ericka's birthday in the middle of August, right before she went away.

So what's the problem? The problem, my dear Flockers, is SHE FUCKED HER EX-BOYFRIEND LATER THAT NIGHT. I was, obviously, crushed. Mainly because I was at the party still and walked in on them and then threw up in one of his shoes. High school Trevor wasn't the dashing and charming young man you've come to know and not-quite-love-but-kind-of-respect. Afterwards, I walked out into the warm summer night, promptly drunk called Julie Baker and we got back together.

But I didn't forget what was done to me that night.

Fast forward to this past summer, I receive a seemingly innocuous Facebook invite to Ericka's 22nd birthday party. Against my better judgement, I decide to go. I arrived at the bar and quickly started chatting up Ericka's best friend, Olive. We started doing shots and soon enough I had escorted her out of the bar and walked her the brief 2.2 miles to Ericka's house, where my dreams had been crushed several years before. All of the doors were locked, but Ericka had left her car open, and I convinced Olive that best friends share everything, cars and cocks included.

The sex was super hot, but only from a temperature perspective. Fucking in a Toyota Corolla in the middle of August is not that fun. But I had a mission and no ass sweat on pleather was going to stop me. So ladies and gentlemen, our lesson this week is: Do not fuck your ex-boyfriend in front of me. Have the decency to do it in my car. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, amiright?

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Sunday Confessions of a College Asshole Episode 3

Lying, cheating and general douchebaggery

Episode 3: Pre-Soak

Let's flashback to November of freshman year for a second, shall we? I was getting comfortable with my new life, Julie Baker and I were on one of our infamous breaks, and I was living in a dorm with literally hundreds of girls. Anyone reading will come to the obvious conclusion: I was slaying. WRONG. I had unwisely decided to grow a fucking mustache for "No Shave November" and I had zero people interested in touching my penis. Not one. I was being cock-blocked by my own upper lip.

Just when things were at their most dire, I bumped into this girl Michelle when we were both doing laundry. Was Michelle my type? No. Was she funny? Not really. Was she smart? I didn't give her a fucking IQ test, I don't know. So what did Michelle have going for her you may ask? Well she was apparently the No. 1-ranked collegiate squash player, but even more than that: she liked my moustache. I'm not one to fall for flattery too often but as soon as she said, "Cool mustache," my knees went weak.

We had both just started our loads (LOL) so I knew that I had the 45 minutes of wash and the 60 minutes of drying to seal the deal. The first 45 minutes played out like the beginning of a rom-com with tons of laughing, flirting, and accidental touching. Things were progressing, but just not quickly enough. We were both transferring to the dryer, and then I asked her to come up to my room to "listen to music," which was basically 2012's version of "Netflix and Chill." She looked me over, seemingly making up her mind, and I sexily rubbed my fingers across my gross lip and she was mine.

Mustache-Loving Michelle didn't miss a beat; she reached behind me, locked the laundry room door and went to town. After sex, we had a solid 54 minutes until our laundry was done (Frosh Trevor just didn't have that good stamina). It was awkward to say the least.

The take away is that dryer sex is v fun, but an hour long commitment to sit around afterward is not. See you next Sunday.

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Confessions of a College Asshole Ep. 1

Lying, cheating and general douchebaggery

As a senior in college I stand at a crossroads, a Rubicon of sorts. It is time to move on from my questionable life choices and morally dubious identity and graduate into the real world where you can't act like a selfish bitch all the time. But before I do that, I want to share some of my stories (specifically my fuck-ups) so that you impressionable, young minds don't make the same mistakes that I did. Actually, they are just funny, idgaf what you do.

Episode 1: Sister, Sister

In the fall of my sophomore year, I was still dumb enough to be dating a girl from my hometown, let's call her Julie Baker. Oh, Julie, Julie, Julie. We had awkwardly lost our virginities to each other in the backseat of her mom's minivan in a liquor store parking lot two years before, so clearly we had a strong, spiritual connection. We would see each other once a month or so, and the rest of the time was filled with fighting, texting, and tons of masturbating.

While this might sound like domestic bliss, I can assure you it is a lot less fun than it sounds. Angry masturbating should be no one's hobby. This vicious cycle looked like it would continue forever, until Julie's little sister, Jenny, scheduled a visit to Ithaca, New York to check out Cornell's campus. Jenny was (an 18-year-old, relax) senior in high school, and a total dime. I knew immediately what I was going to do.

I really rolled out the red carpet for Jenny. My room was cleaned with the fervor and enthusiasm only a horny teenager can muster. I borrowed those dumb Christmas lights from a girl down the hall and crafted the perfect playlist featuring a heavy amount of Coldplay and Sufjan Stevens. And the Sex Gods seemed to be on my side, as the lacrosse team had planned a party for that very night. Things were shaping up.

Jenny and I danced and laughed and drank and it would have been a really nice night to any outside observer. The only wrinkle would be the fact that Jenny was my pseudo-sister-in-law. Which is easily the most accepted and hottest form of potential incest, amiright? After an appropriate amount of time, we retired to my dorm and I popped my second Baker cherry.

Julie and I eventually broke up. And, as the emotionally mature adult that I am, I yelled, "I fucked Jenny!" before hanging up that final call. The lesson here is clear: Don't fuck your girlfriend's sister. Maybe a bit basic, but an important one nonetheless.

I know I was a shitty boyfriend, but Jenny was a really shitty sister.