I love my job. It's taken me over 10 years to finally dare become a sex worker, what I always wanted. Surely, I would be the last person to give up my beloved profession and lifestyle for a man?
Think again. Before being bewildered by a boyfriend and prospects of a "normal" life, I never doubted my choices in life. Then, I too got lured away by love. At least what I thought was love at the moment. While in my mind, love should be unconditional. In this case it was conditioned by me having to reluctantly agree to seeing my work as morally wrong.
The strong, independent woman I thought I was caved into conditioned love. I no longer felt good about working and took an indefinite break while struggling to adapt to a life of Netflix, chill and dog walks.
To be loved I gave up my life. I lied and humoured my man and his limited view on sex work as amoral.
Personally, I find sex work beautiful. It allows for genuine connection, exploration of sexuality, and gives space for people to be free and exactly who they want to be, even if just for an hour. Every hour I worked I felt privelged to be a guide in the realm of sexuality. Then I turned around and gave it all up to fit into a box that was never fitted for me.
You may wonder where the story ends? Well, I realized that someone who can't love me for who I am will never accept me as an equal. I choose to take the good memories with me as I decide to be myself again, fully. No limitations and no shame. I am at a stage where my life is exactly what I designed it to be, doing what I love, being happy and free. No one can tell me that's the wrong place to be.