I grew up in poverty and continued to struggle to get by even after I graduated. I was sick and tired of barely making rent and even though I had a job, I never had enough. I am disabled and in pain almost constantly which occasionally leaves me unable to work. My life was made up of a selection of hardships which triggered a selection of symptoms which triggered a selection of hardships.
So, I did something drastic. I took the last of my willpower and I decided that, for £150 an hour, I would have sex with strangers.
I looked at the numbers and realised that I could do the job I loved so dearly and get paid from it.
I wouldn’t have to force myself to do anything I didn’t want to do, I could turn away customers who were rude, and best of all I could take time to pursue my passions – arts and crafts, and writing. I make rent working for 5 hours a month. Bills usually require an extra 3 hours work.
For the first time I could prioritise my physical health and mental health in the way that rich people had been telling me to do for years.
For the first time I could prioritize my physical and mental health in the way that rich people had been telling me to do for years.
I could take the days off that I needed. I could pay for the private massages and counselling I’d been missing.
I’ve been an escort for over a year. I’m yet to have a bad review and I do it full time now. My rent is paid on time and with a little extra to spare. My business is flourishing and people (not just men) come from all over the country to see me. It is the most enjoyable job I have ever had. I’m my own boss, so I get to keep everything I make (after taxes, of course). I am able to care for my body in a way I never thought I’d be able to do – any private chiropractors and masseuses are paid happily from my tip jar and I’m well on my way to being a functional human once more.
Yes, in its simplest form it’s sex for money. But there’s more than that going on behind my bedroom door. For both me and the client, sex can be incredibly therapeutic. For me, it’s knowing that I’m desirable enough (which after a life of eating disorders and self-esteem issues is a godsend) and I have the time to truly look after my physical and mental health.
I thought I was stuck in the meat grinder of retail jobs and misery when this dream job came along and seduced me.
I love my job; I want to do it forever. To some people I’m ‘just a whore’ but my job involves so much more.
I offer a range of services from my “cuddle sessions” to my hardcore dominatrix sessions and everything in between. Almost every day I get to meet people who have never told anyone what they feel comfortable telling me – it’s a total honour and a privilege to be offered this vulnerability. My favourite part of customer service was always the conversations with strangers. It was trying to brighten someone’s day and put a smile back on their face. It was the fleeting connections with people. Everyone needs some affection and intimacy, even if it is paid for.
In the course of a year as a full-service sex worker, I’ve had my eyes yanked open. All the things I thought put me at a disadvantage are selling points now. I’m fat, queer, transgender, and I’ve lived in poverty all my life. That means I’m a “down to earth” girl next door type who specialises in clients curious about exploring their gender and sexuality. My eating disorder and size no longer dominate the idea of my self-image, even though I’m bigger than I’ve ever been. I have more work to do but so far, I’m succeeding in spinning my insecurities into gold all the while being able to live my truth.
My truth is that I am valued and worthy.
My truth is that this job is the first job where my co-workers never misgender me. My truth is that I am capable not only of surviving, but that I can run an entire business single handedly and enjoy every minute. I do everything from styling, modelling, to web design, coding, marketing, accounting and everything in between. I’ve learned that I am more than able and all the hours my anxiety and depression told me I wasn’t good enough and that I was a failure? That was all a lie.
I wasn’t looking to improve my mental health when I started this job. I just wanted a bit of extra cash. I’ve ended up with a successful business and I adore every minute spent working. I no longer dread going to work. I no longer fear the outside world and all the strangers my paranoia warned me against.
So, before you say things like “nobody wants to be a hooker” know that I do.