worker money

This man knew I was נערת ליווי ברמת גן a sex worker. It says so, right in my own Bumble profile: retired media whore, current actual whore. He had even commented on it, using the words every woman longs to hear from the romantic interest:’Haha, nice 😉 ‘. And yet I watched as his face contorted into an expression of disgust, his upper lip curling as the truth of my profession came crashing down around him just like a tonne of bricks.

“That is clearly a lot,” he explained, and he then rolled on to his back and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t hear from him again.

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

It’s not common that the physical and emotional experiences we’ve at the office could be enough to replace with a possible lack of intimate connection inside our lives outside work; so many of us also date, with varied quantities of success.

A few months ago, I ended a relationship with a person I had been seeing for nearly two years. In private, he was a massive supporter of me working, but around his colleagues and friends his tune seemed to change. He would introduce me, but hesitate in describing our relationship; when he said, “This is Kate…” the silence that hung in the space where, “…my girlfriend,” should have already been weighed a tonne.

I don’t think that he personally had a problem with me being a sex worker, but I do think that the chance of other people judging me – and then judging him for being with me – was enough to create him want to 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 like, “At what point do we’ve the talk?”

The talk in which I clarify my job, re-explain my profession just in case my date didn’t read my Bumble bio, forgot what it said, or – worse – thought it was a joke. Do I tell him the moment 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. By the way, I’m a hooker. Pass the salt?”

The best dream scenario is that my date is supportive, and נערת ליווי ברמת גן happy that I’ve found a line of work that I like and supports me financially. Unfortunately, it has only happened once – once! – so today, I find that most responses fall approximately abject fascination and outright objectification.

Sometimes I end through to the receiving end of a lot of rapid-fire questions (“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done at work? 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 preferable to 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 once again about how precisely frequently I get my sexual health checks done and if I’m sure I’m not really a carrier of some mutant strain of gonorrhoea.

“That’s all very well and good,” one man said, over coffee, “But obviously in the event that you went with me, you’d have to acquire a real job. And you couldn’t tell anyone we all know that you used to work.” You must probably Google me before you get too attached to that particular idea, I wanted to sneer.

Of course, even the crudest line of questioning is a better case scenario compared to very real threat of violence that numerous sex workers face when speaking about their job. I’ve friends who have been followed home and stalked by men who couldn’t understand just 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 is preferable to the likelihood of physical violence from a romantic partner. I once continued a romantic date with a man who invited me as much as his bedroom, held me down as he initiated sex with out a condom, and then read certainly one of my very own articles, about sex work, out loud in my experience as I lay silently next to him.

Dating isn’t easy for anyone. Even the act of experiencing to distil your entire person directly into a quick and snappy paragraph fit for a dating app is sufficient to produce anyone wish to purge their hands and surrender to a life of solitude.

Still, I believe in love, and I understand from past experiences that relationships – when they’re good – are worth every struggle.

On the occasions when it’s all too much, I find myself thankful for the simple, stress-free nature of transactional sex. An hour on the clock and a peck on the cheek to state a fond goodbye until the next occasion: if perhaps finding love was as simple.

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23 September 2018

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