girl for work

This person knew I was a sex worker. It says so, right in my own Bumble profile: retired media whore, current actual whore. He’d even commented about it, using the language every woman longs to know from a romantic interest:’Haha, nice ;) ‘. And yet I watched as his face contorted into an expression of disgust, his upper lip curling as the reality of my profession came crashing down around him just like a tonne of bricks.

«That is a lot,» he explained, and then he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t hear from him again.

It sometimes surprises people to hear that sex workers do all sorts of normal people activities, like working other jobs, girl4escort studying, taking the bins out. We exist in actuality after our shifts end and the red light is flicked off; we’ve dinner with our families and shop at K-Mart and wait on hold with our websites providers for what feels like hours.

It’s not common that the physical and emotional experiences we’ve at the job will be enough to make up for a possible lack of intimate connection in our lives beyond work; so most of us also date, with varied levels of success.

A few months ago, I ended a connection with a man I had been seeing for pretty much two years. In private, he was an enormous supporter of me working, but around his colleagues and friends his tune appeared to change. He would introduce me, but hesitate in describing our relationship; when he explained, «This is Kate…» the silence that hung in the room where, «…my girlfriend,» should have been weighed a tonne.

I don’t think that he personally had a problem with me being fully a sex worker, but I actually do believe that the possibility of others judging me – and then judging him for being with me – was enough to produce him want to help keep me a secret.

So I’ve recently downloaded some dating apps and put myself back on the proverbial market, but it’s tough. Along with the usual questions one ponders before a date (What do I wear? Where shall we go?) I find myself asking things such as, «At what point do we’ve the talk?»

The talk by which I clarify my job, re-explain my profession in the event my date didn’t read my Bumble bio, forgot what it said, or – worse – thought it was a joke. Do I tell him as soon as we meet, or before we say goodnight? Or do I throw it out at random within the course of the evening: «Wow, this wine is delicious. In addition, I’m a hooker. Pass the salt?»

The best dream scenario is that my date is supportive, and happy that I’ve found a type of work that I enjoy and supports me financially. Unfortunately, this has only happened once – once! – so nowadays, I find that many responses fall somewhere between abject fascination and outright objectification.

Sometimes I end on the receiving end of a lot of rapid-fire questions («What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done at the office? Perhaps you have had a celebrity client? Are the guys all old and ugly? They’re not, like, normal guys like me, are they?») which is better than horrified silence, but leaves me feeling like I’ve just been interviewed for an hour.

Other times, my date can barely contain their disgust, quizzing me over and over again about how precisely frequently I get my sexual health checks done and if I’m sure I’m not just a carrier of some mutant strain of gonorrhoea.

«That’s all perfectly and good,» one man said, over coffee, «But obviously in the event that you went out with me, you’d have to obtain a real job. And you couldn’t tell anyone we know that you used to work.» You must probably Google me before you obtain too attached to that particular idea, I desired to sneer.

Of course, even the crudest type of questioning is just a better case scenario compared to very real threat of violence that many sex workers face when speaking about their job. I have friends who have been followed home and stalked by men who couldn’t realize why their date with a sex worker didn’t end with a romp, and others who have had partners show up at their work in a spontaneous fit of jealousy, viciously demanding they empty their locker and return home with them immediately.

And even that’s preferable to the possibility of physical violence from an intimate partner. I once proceeded a romantic date with a person who invited me up to his bedroom, held me down as he initiated sex without a condom, and then read among my own, נערות ליווי personal articles, about sex work, out loud in my experience as I lay silently close to him.

Dating isn’t simple for anyone. Even the act of having to distil your entire person directly into a short and snappy paragraph fit for a dating app is enough to make anyone desire to purge their hands and surrender to a life of solitude.

Still, I rely on love, and I am aware from past experiences that relationships – when they’re good – are worth every struggle.

On the times when it’s all a lot of, I find myself thankful for the straightforward, stress-free nature of transactional sex. An hour on the clock and a peck on the cheek to express a fond goodbye until next time: if only finding love was as simple.

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