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 for instance a tonne of bricks.
"That's 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 sometimes surprises people to hear that sex workers do a number of normal people activities, like working other jobs, studying, taking the bins out. We exist in actuality 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 our websites providers for what feels as though hours.
It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we've at the job would be enough to replace with a potential lack of intimate connection inside our lives beyond work; so many of us also date, with varied levels of success.
A couple of months ago, I ended a relationship with a man I have been seeing for almost two years. In private, he was an enormous supporter of me working, but around his colleagues and friends his tune appeared to change. He'd 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 been weighed a tonne.
I don't believe he personally had a trouble with me being a sex worker, but I actually do feel that the likelihood of other people judging me _ and then judging him to be with me _ was enough to produce him want to help keep me a secret.