I was having coffee with my mate Sarah last week, and she started going off about how 'degrading' sex work is. Classic middle class performance, right? She's got a corporate job where she sells her emotional labour eight hours a day for a fraction of what I make in an hour, and somehow I'm the one being 'exploited'.
What fascinates me isn't the moral posturing. It's how people construct these elaborate narratives about labour and consent that conveniently ignore economic realities. My clients aren't buying my body. They're buying a carefully negotiated performance of intimacy that requires significant emotional intelligence and professional skill.
Most of my regulars are professional men who understand transactional interactions better than anyone. They know exactly what they're purchasing: companionship, a specific emotional experience, release from social expectations. The performative outrage about sex work always cracks me up because it reveals more about societal anxieties than actual lived experiences.
I'm not interested in being a victim or a hero. I'm running a business that gives me more autonomy than most 9-to-5 gigs ever could. The money's good, the hours are flexible, and I get to be my own boss. Try telling that to Sarah and her corporate performance reviews.