Baby, you got dooced.
–a friend of mine

I went into the office dressed in my usual conservative garb of long sleeve shirt, long skirt, hair in bun, glasses and no makeup. I didn’t even get a chance to sit down. My boss immediately told me she needed to talk to me in private. The moment she said that, I prickled with horror. I feared this moment, couldn’t imagine it, and now, here it was. I knew my Clark Kent gig was up.

We sat down and she blurted angrily, “I need to let you go. Corporate office suggested I google employees. I typed in your name and it took me two seconds to find your website. How COULD you put that stuff out there? What were you thinking?! I feel like I’m talking to a 14 year old! We’re DONE.”

I was in a sound tunnel of shame, a total state of shock, my face was bright red. Practically speechless, I managed to utter, “I’m sorry.” She didn’t say a word, just glared at me accusingly.

There was no “this is too bad, you’re such a good worker, we liked you,” involved. Last week they liked me, and today they couldn’t stand to look at me. My lovely, warm, kind boss had turned the corner and was utterly disgusted with me. She looked at me as if I was a monster, like she didn’t want my tentacles to touch her.

It was swift and brutal. There was nothing to say. I know I disappointed her terribly. She wanted me out of her sight as quickly as possible. She took my keys and watched me clear my desk with her arms folded. Her eyes glittered with fury. She said coolly, “I’d appreciate passwords, if you are willing to share them.”

I felt awful that she would think I would withhold information out of spite. I told her of course I would email them to her. I also choked out that just yesterday we received a resume that would be worth considering for the position, and I would forward it to her.

I did feel for her – if she was looking for any dirt on me, I doubt she was prepared for the raw dog filth I spewed.

Sketch by Henryk Ptasiewicz

But that filth is my personal life and had nothing to do with my work performance. That filth was wrapped in inspiration and education. That filth helped so many people. In all that filth, there is something beautiful to behold.

That beauty is openness and honesty.

My friend compared me to dooce, the blogger who got fired from her job because of her website. Her advice to her readers is NEVER write about work on the internet. Except I wasn’t writing about work – I was celebrating my personal life, which is sexy, fabulous, and full.

The two things Americans most fear and/or loathe to talk about is sex and death. One contributes to the very beginning of life, and the other is associated with the end. Americans, especially in the Midwest, are not comfortable with either end of the life spectrum. Maybe th

ere’s a correlation to geographic location and lifestyle comfort level – the West coast is down with sex, the Midwest focuses on eating, watching sports, and going to church, and the East coast is more accepting of death, but plans to get their freak on just the same.

Yes, I feel ashamed and terrible, and I’m very sorry it turned out this way, but I have a clear conscience. I don’t believe I wronged my employer. I don’t associate my name or face with my blog, so it’s all anonymous (they found it through a freak social media glitch).

And this is the third time I’ve been through something like this. I hate to say it, but I’m used to it. I haven’t felt any anger like I did in previous scandals.

Instead, I feel sadness, anxiety, and fear.

I’ve had an outpouring of support from my friends, fans, and fellow sex bloggers around the world, and that has been extremely heartening. I know I’m surrounded by awesome good energy, and I want to harness it. From the bottom of my heart, I thank everyone who has reached out to me and expressed concern. I am fine in body, but rumpled in spirit.

Let me ask you this – what would you do in my situation? Have you been in the same boat? Should I kill TBK? Would that even matter with this tangled web we weave? Or should I “come back fast and fierce,” as someone urged me to do? How can I make a living? I know a lot of my friends in the sex industry display their face and real name, and they’ve acknowledged that once you go there, you can’t go back. They have limited their options, but they don’t regret it.

I love my rich and beautiful life, but I don’t really know how to LIVE in this society. Any tips on how to live are appreciated.

Much Love,
TBK

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–TBK will be reading and responding to comments below. You can also send her a message (love at thebeautifulkind dot com) or find her on Twitter. I’d love it if folks reading this would come forward with support (and maybe even other opportunities). Share this post widely via Twitter and Facebook, please? –aag