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This guy knew I was a *** worker. It says so, right in my Bumble profile: retired media ***, current actual ***.

He had even commented onto 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 just like 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 hear that *** workers do all sorts 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've dinner with our families and shop at K-Mart and wait on hold with this online sites providers for what feels as though hours.



It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we have at the job could be enough to replace with a potential not enough intimate connection inside our lives outside of work; so most 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 nearly 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 explained, "That is Kate..." the silence that hung in the room where, "...my girlfriend," should have been weighed a tonne.


I don't believe he personally had a trouble with me being fully a *** worker, but I actually do believe that the chance of others judging me – and then judging him if you are with me – was enough to produce him want to help keep me a secret.

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