My most beautiful job in the world

“You have to toughen up.”, “Clients play, you should not trust them”, “A whore is an actress”. I love my colleagues and I appreciate when they share their experience with me, longer than mine. Nonetheless, these words are like knives. Nonetheless, I am used to follow my own way. Used to have people worry about me too.

Deep in the core of my being, I reject all that. It is not me. That’s not the reason I work this trade.

I work with all my being, and most of all, with all my love. This love of myself and of the world. Of the parts of myself and the world that I find in everyone. And the power of trust, of tenderness to grow so many beautiful things.

I always knew this was what I wanted to do, to be a sex worker. Since I was a little girl. And that I wanted to do it as an escort, since I started in the profession. To me, it’s the most beautiful job in the world. For me. And for what I can give to the world, doing this job. More empathy. More listening. More tenderness. More pleasure.

I spend my days in front of my computer and my smartphone. Answering thousands of messages, few of which will lead to something real. Trying to understand how to find and touch my people, my clients. Who will enter my life. With whom I will love, share, laugh, moan.

Every new message is a promise of a potential world to discover. With its cracks, its valleys, its suns. With each message, I feel the wave I receive to see how I can concentrate the best of myself, how to answer the questions that will not be asked because we don’t know we have to ask them.

I had been excited for a week about this date, and the day has finally arrived. I have stage fright. I am impatient.

A text. An excuse. He is sorry. He will not come. Suddenly these hours spent concentrating to be perfectly available, these hours I had freed for that afternoon are empty. What do I do now?

I fall back on the preparation of the next rendezvous, in a few days. It will only be an hour, I don’t know a lot about him but I like the way he talks to me, I am curious. Oh, he’s sending me a text! He’s canceling. He’s sorry. He has an excuse.

Two in two hours. It’s hard. A call from my sex worker friends, the abovementioned advices. I understand why they work like that. I understand why they protect themselves. I understand that it is what the clients ask, the roleplay, the make believe. But it’s not for me. It’s just not for me.

And I am devastated. I take a pause to concentrate on some series. And I understand why they say that. “You take everything to heart, you will hurt yourself.”

They are right. It hurts. But it would hurt a lot more if I didn’t work with the best of what I am. With my love, too.

So I watch some series. And, tomorrow, I will go back to searching how to find my people. Those who need me. Who need my heat and my tenderness. Because I know everybody needs it. Because this is what this job is for me. The most beautiful job in the world.