55 stories published
People always think sex work is this glamorous thing where youre in big cities with endless clients. But here I am in Wrexham, which is basically a postage stamp on the map of Wales, making my living
There's a strange negotiation that happens every time I step into a hotel lobby or upscale Dublin bar. Not just the usual work dynamics, but something deeper about skin and perception. I'm Nigerian-Ir
Getting around when you're an independent worker in Sligo isn't like Dublin or Cork. Public transport here is basically a joke and taxis cost a bloody fortune. I've had to get seriously strategic abou
Sometimes the best parts of this work happen when nothing remarkable is happening. This morning I woke early, before the ceramic pieces in my studio had caught the pale winter light, and thought about
I've been trying to explain Switzerland to my mother for seven years and haven't managed it yet. She thinks I live in a ski resort. She's not entirely wrong about the aesthetic but she's...
I was thinking about compartmentalisation the other day. About whether I've actually got good at it or whether I've just convinced myself I have. The practical version is fine. Separate phone. A...
I've been in online sex worker communities about five years now and something keeps bothering me, which is the way the political debate on decriminalisation gets dominated by everyone except...
People ask me what's the weirdest thing about the job and honestly it's how boring most of it is. Not in a bad way. I just mean most bookings are dead normal. Guy comes. You do what you've agreed....
Nine years in London now. More of my life has happened here than in Cork at this stage, which is a strange thing to realise. I went home at Christmas and the city felt smaller than I remembered, and...
Listen. Im proper sick of people looking down their noses at sex work like we're some kinda second class citizens. Ive been doing this job for years now and I know exactly what Im about. Its work. Har
There's something particular about Belfast that took me a while to figure out, and it's this: in a city this size, with this history, your presence in any space carries more information than you...
Sometimes I cant sleep after a client and sometimes I cant stop sleeping. Theres no middle ground with this work, just extremes of exhaustion and weird alertness where my brain is spinning but my body
I'll start with the one everyone wants to know about and get it out of the way. Yes I've had clients I knew from before. Not loads of them. Three, maybe four in seven years. Two handled it grand. One...
The wheel spins and my hands remember how to shape something. It's always like this with ceramics. My body knows what to do before my brain catches up. I've been throwing mugs all morning, thinking ab
Some days I look at my PhD and my current work and marvel at how completely bizarre my life trajectory has been. There's something almost comically surreal about defending a complex theoretical disser
I don't know what I'd say if someone asked when exactly I got comfortable with this. I'm not sure I have, if I'm being honest. Or maybe I have and I don't recognise it because comfortable doesn't...
So yesterday my mate who normally watches Rosie when I do outcalls totally bailed last minute. Just flat out texted me 30 minutes before her usual time like 'sorry cant watch her'. Which like. Cool. C
I'm sat in my favourite Kemptown cafe, watching the morning crowd drift past, and I'm thinking about how people see me. Not just clients. Everyone.The queer scene in Brighton is wild and fluid. We don