Comentarios de lectores/as

girl for work

"Maryann Sturgill" (2018-07-20)


This person knew I was a sex worker. It says so, right in my Bumble profile: retired media whore, current actual whore. He had even commented about it, using what 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 such as a tonne of bricks.

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

It sometimes surprises people to know that sex workers do a number 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've dinner with this families and shop at K-Mart and wait on hold with our websites providers for what feels as though hours.

It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we've at work would be enough to replace with a possible insufficient intimate connection in our lives beyond work; so many of us also date, with varied quantities of success.

A few months ago, I ended a relationship with a man I have been seeing for almost two years. In private, he was a huge supporter of me working, but around his colleagues and friends his tune did actually change. He would introduce me, but hesitate in describing our relationship; when he said, "This is Kate..." the silence that hung in the area where, "...my girlfriend," should have already been weighed a tonne.

I don't think that he personally had a trouble with me being truly a sex worker, but I actually do feel that the likelihood of other people judging me – and then judging him if you are with me – was enough to make 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 all 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 by 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 absolutely was a joke. Do I tell him when we meet, or before we say goodnight? Or do I throw it out randomly over the course of the evening: "Wow, this wine is delicious. Incidentally, I'm a hooker. Pass the salt?"

The greatest dream scenario is that my date girl4escort 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 through to the receiving end of a thousand rapid-fire נערות ליווי questions ("What's the weirdest thing you've ever done at the job? 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 surpasses 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 exactly 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 perfectly and good," one man said, over coffee, "But obviously in the event that you sought out with me, you'd have to acquire a real job. And you couldn't tell anyone we know that you used to work." You ought to probably Google me before you obtain too attached compared to that idea, I desired to sneer.

Obviously, even the crudest type of questioning is really 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've 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've had partners arrive at their work in a spontaneous fit of jealousy, viciously demanding they empty their locker and return home together immediately.

And even that is better the possibility of physical violence from a romantic partner. I once went on a romantic date with a man who invited me around his bedroom, held me down as he initiated sex with no condom, and then read one of my own articles, about sex work, aloud to me as I lay silently next to him.

Dating isn't easy for anyone. Even the act of experiencing to distil your complete person directly into a quick and snappy paragraph fit for a dating app will do to make anyone wish to provide their hands and surrender to a life of solitude.

Still, I believe in love, and I am aware 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 easy, 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 time: if perhaps finding love was as simple.

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