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worker money

por Doris Laidler (2019-06-18)


This guy 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 language every woman longs to hear from a romantic interest:'Haha, נערות ליווי באשדוד 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 such as a tonne of bricks.

"That's a lot," he said, 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 a variety 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 your families and shop at K-Mart and wait on hold with this internet service providers for what feels as though hours.

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

A couple of months ago, I ended a relationship with a person I had been seeing for pretty much 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 really is Kate..." the silence that hung in the area where, "...my girlfriend," should have now been weighed a tonne.

I don't genuinely believe that he personally had a trouble with me being a sex worker, but I really do feel that the likelihood of other folks judging me – and then judging him for being with me – was enough to create 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 things like, "At what point do we have 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 had been a joke. Do I tell him the moment we meet, or before we say goodnight? Or do I throw it out at random over the length of the evening: "Wow, this wine is delicious. By the way, I'm a hooker. Pass the salt?"

The ultimate 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, it's only happened once – once! – so today, I find that a lot of responses fall approximately abject fascination and outright objectification.

Sometimes I end through to the receiving end of a thousand rapid-fire questions ("What's the weirdest thing you've ever done at the job? Have you ever had a celebrity client? Are the inventors 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 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 if you sought out with me, you'd have to obtain a real job. And you couldn't tell anyone we realize that you used to work." You ought to probably Google me before you receive too attached compared to that idea, I wished to sneer.

Needless to say, even the crudest type of questioning is just a better case scenario compared to the very real threat of violence that lots of sex workers face when speaking about their job. I've friends who have been followed home and stalked by men who couldn't understand 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 using them immediately.

And even that is better than the chance of physical violence from an intimate partner. I once continued a date with a person who invited me as much as his bedroom, held me down as he initiated sex with no condom, and then read among my own, personal articles, about sex work, out loud to me as I lay silently close to him.

Dating isn't possible for שירותי ליווי אשדוד anyone. Even the act of having to distil your entire person into a brief and snappy paragraph fit for a dating app will do to produce anyone desire to throw up 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 times when it's all a lot of, 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 state a fond goodbye until next time: if perhaps finding love was as simple.

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