My First Post – Talking ‘Bout Sex, Money, And Raising A Son
This is my first post and I’m ready to chat you up! My name is Elizabeth Black and I’m a sex writer and erotica/erotic romance writer. Just check my profile for more information about me. Thank you Good Vibes for giving me a platform to blather about sex.
Here it is, almost 9:30 p. m., and I’m listening to some Melissa Etheridge, Evanescence, and Aimee Mann while I ramble on about sex, money, and work. I don’t mean prostitution or porn acting, either. I mean writing about sex, getting paid for it, and knowing my son knows what I do. How on earth do I mix the three so the souffle doesn’t sink?
My son, who will go by the name The Royal Spawn since my blog is called The Countess, is in college now. He’s had a long-suffering attitude about my sex writing, as in he knows about it but I don’t go into detail because he says it’s TMI. (If you don’t know what TMI stands for, Google it.) When he last came up to Massachusetts from college in Maryland to visit for winter break, I showed him my first book in print form and I was very excited about it. So was he and he was very happy for me, but he backed off and said “but it has naughty words in it”. He wouldn’t touch my book with a ten foot pole.
I don’t know what his problem was because the cover only had a picture of a bed and breakfast on it, not like my other covers of oiled and greased sexy male torsos. I know better than to show him those because he would die of embarrassment. I have vowed that when I get my own sex column I’m going to name it “Naughty Words” after his comment. Ha! Hey, he should be grateful I put all the sex toys in a box in the closet rather than have them lying around the bedroom and living room the way I usually do. That’s what you do when you’re a mom – you keep things as embarrassment-free as possible when you have a college-aged (or teenaged) son in the house. They’re so sensitive they can sense a rabbit vibrator at fifty paces – even if it’s covered in packing foam. Somehow, they know.
That brings me to the phone call we had tonight. It was the usual call you’d expect from a boy raised in New England. Most of his answers were “Yup”, “Nope”, and “Mebee”. Except when he talked about hockey with my husband (not his father but he raised him pretty much). Then we got more than two words out of him. Before hanging up I asked him if he was going to work during the summer or come up to Massachusetts to hang out with us and his friends. I even put icing on the cake and told him he didn’t have to get a summer job if he came here to stay with us. Mom knows the value of a carrot on the end of a stick. He made the offhand comment that with his training in computer science he could find a pretty good job that didn’t stress him out and he could make a “stupid amount of money”. I really liked that! He finally figured out my philosophy about working and I stressed it to him before hanging up.
My work philosophy is this: since you’re going to likely spend eight hours or more per day five days per week working, there’s no sense in doing something you hate. Make sure your job is fun – emphasis on the word “fun”. Otherwise, why work at all? I told him to not rush finding his fun job that makes “a stupid amount of money”. After all, that’s where I am now and I hope my example as mom working jobs she loves for a fairly “stupid” amount of money rubs off. I love being a sex writer and erotica/ erotic romance novelist. I pay the bills with this work, although I don’t make quite enough yet to cover everything but I’m pretty damned close. He knows I write sex articles and erotic stories. He just doesn’t talk about them. If I go into even the slightest amount of detail about my sex writing we enter serious Double Face Palm territory. I’m talking Epic Fail because hearing mom talk about sex will make his head explode. But – and this is important – he sees his mom doing work she loves and gets well-compensated for. I know it’s rubbing off. Hopefully, he’ll find work in a few years that pays stupidly well and gives him lots of satisfaction. I doubt it will be sex work like my work but it will be good work nonetheless.
So that’s what it’s like raising a kid who knows your sex work is like the elephant in the living room that he never talks about except in veiled tones but I make an impression nonetheless. And that’s a good thing. A “stupid” amount of money makes it even better in my book.
Come visit me at my blog, The Countess where I blog about sex toy reviews, movies, music, TV, the latest in sex news, trendy shit, erotic romance and erotica, and anything else that I find amusing.