This guy knew I was a sex worker. It says so, right in my own Bumble profile: retired media whore, current actual whore.
He had even commented onto it, using the language every woman longs to know from a romantic interest:'Haha, nice
'. And yet I watched as his face contorted directly 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 a lot," he said, and he then rolled 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 the real world after our shifts end and the red light is flicked off; we have dinner with our families and shop at K-Mart and wait on hold with this websites providers for what is like hours.
It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we've at work would be enough to replace with a potential insufficient intimate connection within 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 have 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, "That 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 do believe that the possibility of others judging me – and then judging him if you are with me – was enough to create him want to help keep me a secret.
Here is my web blog; דירה דיסקרטיות