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girl for work

"Maryann Sturgill" (2018-07-24)


He knew I was a sex worker. It says so, right in my Bumble profile: retired media whore, current actual whore. He had even commented onto it, using the words every woman longs to listen to from the romantic interest:'Haha, nice ;) '. And yet I watched as his face contorted directly into an expression of disgust, his upper lip curling as the reality of my profession came crashing down around him such as a tonne of bricks.

"That's a lot," he explained, and then he rolled on to his back and stared at the ceiling. I didn't hear from him again.

It often surprises people to know that sex workers do all sorts of normal people activities, like working other jobs, studying, taking the bins out. We exist in real life 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 is like hours.

It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we've at the office could be enough to make up for a possible not enough intimate connection within our lives outside of work; so many of us also date, with varied degrees of success.

A couple of months ago, I ended a connection with a man I have 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 did actually change. He'd introduce me, but hesitate in describing our relationship; when he said, "This is Kate..." the silence that hung in the room where, "...my girlfriend," should have already been weighed a tonne.

I don't believe that he personally had a problem with me being truly a sex worker, but I actually do believe that the possibility of other folks 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 all the usual questions one ponders before a romantic date (What do I wear? Where shall we go?) I find myself asking such things as, "At what point do we have the talk?"

The talk where 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 absolutely was a joke. Do I tell him when we meet, or before we say goodnight? Or do I throw it out at random over 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 line of work that I like and supports me financially. Unfortunately, this has only happened once – once! – so nowadays, I find that a lot of responses fall somewhere between abject fascination and outright objectification.

Sometimes I end up on the receiving end of one thousand rapid-fire questions ("What's the weirdest thing you've ever done at the office? Maybe 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 once again about how frequently I get my sexual health checks done and if I'm sure I'm not a carrier of some mutant strain of gonorrhoea.

"That's all perfectly and good," one man said, over coffee, "But obviously if you went with me, you'd have to obtain a real job. And you couldn't tell anyone we know that you used to work." You should probably Google me before you obtain too attached to that idea, I desired to sneer.

Needless to say, even the crudest distinct questioning is really a better case scenario than the very real threat of violence that lots of sex workers face when speaking about their job. I have friends who have been followed נערות ליווי 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've had partners appear 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 better the possibility of physical violence from a romantic partner. I once went on a date with a person who invited me as much as his bedroom, held me down as he initiated sex with out a condom, and then read among my own personal articles, about sex work, aloud to me as I lay silently next to him.

Dating isn't easy for anyone. Even the act of having to distil your entire person in to a brief and snappy paragraph fit for a dating app is sufficient to make anyone want to provide their hands and surrender to a life of solitude.

Still, I rely נערות ליווי on love, and I understand from past experiences that relationships – when they're good – are worth every struggle.

On the days when it's all a lot of, I find myself thankful for the simple, stress-free nature of transactional sex. An hour or so on the clock and a peck on the cheek to express a fond goodbye until the next occasion: if perhaps finding love was as simple.

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