Am I the white man’s whore?

I have been reflecting on myself after a FWB asked me if I was okay with the sex we were doing. I was confused as to what he meant and he explained that it was a little racial and then I thought back on it. To spare graphic detail: our sex includes a lot of pain and him being dominant. And I reflect back on those moments and was worried that I am really a white man’s whore. I begin to worry who am I? What have I become?

A huge part of me feels sexually liberated but, I can’t help to feel used when I am just there for the sex I am bought just a cup of coffee and I have sex for two hours and go home. They don’t want me to overstay my welcome. I am there for the sex and that is it.

My past and current situation with married men does not help with the stereotype either. I know I can stop at any time. I know. But, it is so addicting. I am addicted to sex and I take from who will have me. Then, I mess up and get attached and feel bad when they leave. But, now I don’t feel that as much anymore. My client ghosted me and when I texted him to confront him on it, he confessed that he is indeed seeing another woman. Disposable and replaceable. I give them sex and when they get bored, they move onto the next. That is what I am for them.

Yet, I always wonder why I am so alone. It’s because I can never seem to let go. I need to understand that I am replaceable. I am a cheap thrill. I will never be an important person or fixture in their lives. They may have some care for me and a fondness for me but, beyond that? Nothing. All I can think of are the women who were subject to the white owners who had their way with them or even when there was a mutual attraction, there is no way that they could actually be a couple. There was an arrangement of some sorts, not love. I should understand that. My great great great grandmother was mulatto and a slave so I know the most likely scenario that happened. Yet, here I am just giving my body away for money or for dates or for temporary attention and affection.

I need to be better. I need to do better. It is disgusting. Although the same scenarios have happened with Black men, it has just been married white men that I have been with and that reminds me of the master-slave dynamic. I can get love in other ways. No matter how much they may say how I am wonderful and have such a bright future and how I am so beautiful and intelligent and anyone would be lucky to have me. But, that someone is not them and never will be them.

I am just a concubine. A whore. Everyone knows it. Everyone sees it. And that is all I am.

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