Dating as a Sex Worker

To men, I’m always a whore. Once they find out about my sex work past one of two things will happen: either the guy will think, “bingo! Green light! Free sex!” And descend on me like a bird of prey orrrrr the man in question will run screaming in the other direction.

so why tell the guy? You may think, well just don’t bring it up then. No. I can’t do that. I AM A SEX WORKER. Whether it makes said male uncomfortable or not, it’s an incredibly important part of who I am. I’m currently retired, but when I was actively sex working my life was not the life of a normie. Just like my struggle with addiction and my identification as a drug addict and alcoholic is a pivotal part of who I am, and my bipolar is a crucial part of who I am- because these things have UNIQUELY shaped my life- so too does my history of participation in the alternative sexual economy. It’s who I am. And I’m not going to hide it or adjust who I am for anyone’s fucking comfort.

So this brings me to how do I date as a Sex Worker, knowing my status as one will either alienate and repel OR it will turn me into a sexual commodity. Which is funny because the clients I worked with always treated me with respect. Even though I was technically turning myself into a commodity through the exchange of money for an erotic service- I never felt commodified. I never felt like my humanity was being steamrolled for the purposes of hyper sexualization, like it does so often when I disclose.

Im pan sexual. I fall in love and become attracted based on the person. But in my dealings with males, I have come to learn that the claiming of my own sexuality for MYSELF- not for that man- is highly taboo. To be strong, assertive, go after a guy when you want to fuck him or date him- that is not ok. So I am not ok. My “brand” of sexuality is not ok. Because the reality is I have fucked more people than most of the men I talk to, and disclosing my status as a SW relays that fact.

I don’t know how to date authentically as a SW. I don’t have an answer. I want to stay true to who I am, but I don’t want to be alone. I am a weirdo. An addict. A mentally I’ll person. A Sex Worker. I’m a wild stallion. I can’t be tamed or reeled in. And hasn’t that ALWAYS been problematic for women?



SMILE, baby

It’s been awhile since I’ve lived in New York City. But I still remember it: “I wanna fuck you in the ass mmmm ….. Oh yeah well you were ugly anyway!”

“hey baby you’ve got a phat ass… Yeah well FUCK YOU!”

“I’m gonna rape you, bitch.”

“SMILE! Why do you look so mean, baby?”

ahhh the big apple. Or hang out in any major city and your bound to hear it. If you present as female-bodied, that is. Even in my humble little town of Seattle, WA I hear it.

And why?????? Because our female bodies are an extension of masculinity. Being nice, sweet and positively raddddddddiating femininity is what allows the hetero man-ophiles to be men. The more feminine I appear, the more of a man you are. It’s a disheartening trap. Because if I respond with “thank you,” I am seemingly condoning further harassment. If I say, “go fuck yourself,” I inevitably invite a curb stomping upon me.

I came out if a club one night awhile back and a big tall burly man grabbed my arm and said “come home with me.” I told him to fuck off. I leaned back and decked him. Then cut to me running for my life down a dark city street as he calls after me, “I’m gonna rape you then kill you, bitch.”

Patriarchy is upholded when individual men attempt to establish ownership over female-bodied persons. A simple “smile, baby” not only implies ownership, it exerts power over another individual and a group of people. It is essentially pissing on my leg as I walk by.

So I tried doing the same thing as if I were a man. I walked behind a group of young men and said, yeah baby SHAKE that ass!” Hmm. Somehow it didn’t have the same effect as if I had been a man approaching a group of women. The guys looked back at me like I was a psychopath or a stalker. Hmm. Another set if female stereotypes.

I won’t posit to say that I have a solution to street harassment. But what I can say is if another man tries to grab my arm again, he’s gonna get his fucking ass decked. I am not anyone’s territory. Go pee on someone else’s leg.




What I see is all normal people.

Me on the outside.

I have a deficit.

I have only one arm. And one leg.

I am blind. With little hearing.

Not Like you.

I sit in the corner.


I hang my head. And make myself small.

i take call after call.

From nobodies. And I am powerful.

i have no sentences for you.

So I speak in broken word.

I sit in the crawlspace on cold cement.

blinding darkness. spiders and rats. my friends.

Just a child.

Just a woman.

dead to the world.