Sometimes I catch myself thinking how beautifully absurd my life is. Here I am, Dr. Moira Henderson, with a doctorate in cultural anthropology and a sideline that would make my dissertation committee simultaneously fascinated and horrified.
My academic training means I analyze everything. Everything. So when I'm with a client, I'm not just performing a service. I'm collecting data. Observing human behavior. The things men reveal when they're vulnerable, when they've paid for intimacy that removes typical social constraints - it's anthropological gold.
Last week, a corporate executive spent most of our time discussing his profound loneliness. Not sexual performance, not fantasy. Just deep, aching isolation. I found myself taking mental notes, thinking about my research on contemporary urban alienation. Another academic paper brewing, hidden behind silk sheets and professional discretion.
The cognitive dissonance is delicious, honestly. One moment I'm lecturing about performative gender roles, the next I'm quite literally performing them. My academic self and my working self aren't separate. They're completely entangled.
Edinburgh's misty streets have seen stranger things, I suppose.