You know the saying “do what you’ll love and you’ll never work a day in your life”? Well, if you’ve ever tried following that saying, you’ll know that, inevitably, that thing you love…becomes your work, it becomes something that you have a hard time doing off-the-clock, and you can’t just “leave it at the office”.
Once upon a time there was a little girl who hated sex. Despite her disgust, she was fascinated by ideas of kink and, curiously, sex work.
I’ve only written a little about when I formerly identified as a sex-repulsed asexual and sex was merely an occasional means to an end. It wasn’t until I transitioned and entered some serious therapy that I started actively liking sex for the first time.
Even then, sex was about power. Over myself, my body, my limitations, my past, my brain. Sex was me giving the finger (hurr hurr hurr) to my past, it was about proving that I had overcome and that I had reclaimed this part of me.
Which didn’t mean I was any less legitimately interested.
I explored all kinds of sex, relationship styles, degrees of anonymity. Eventually, when I felt well enough, I fell eagerly face-first into escorting. A couple years after that I started this site, with some time spent camming and making porn sprinkled in as well.
Escorting – sex work in general – always made sense to me, even before I had interest in having sex. I didn’t always understand why, but it was something I wanted to do in life. I loved it from the first time I tried it; It felt like I found something that was missing and I didn’t want to give it up, even if it took me a while to figure out how to best do it.
There are all these assumptions about people who choose sex work and what this means about them, their bodies, and their mental well-being, but sex work gave me agency, and it helped to restore agency that other jobs had taken. I loved it, and I was better for it. Transitioning gave me a much-needed sense of control over myself and my body – something that I had never really experienced before – and escorting did the same for my sexuality. In both cases, I was able to reclaim parts of me that never quite felt right and figure out what I wanted and liked.
Even when things aren’t quite working out (and sometimes they really don’t), I am a better, healthier person when I am actively doing sex work. I don’t need it for the sense or agency and control anymore – thanks, therapy! – but it’s still something that I love and am passionate about. Being away from it, like any of the things I love doing, physically wrenches me, makes me restless, I feel out-of-place. Going back always feels like I’m reconnecting with an old lover, another piece of myself.
Despite how much it has brought to my life, it has also impacted what I want when off the clock in both positive and negative ways – with experience comes knowledge (usually). Knowledge about what you do and do not like, about what you’re not getting that you love, what you’re getting so much of that you’re indifferent to…working in the sexuality field has lead me to learn so much about what I’m passionate about, about what I love doing, things that are absolutely integral both to my sexual pleasure and my general well-being.
But it’s also taught me that I’m fairly indifferent to sex.
Well, kind of.
Not really, actually. I really love sex.
I guess it’s complicated.
When I started sex blogging, it was little more than a fun way to get some free toys (it took me a while to stop viewing a toy that I reviewed as actually being a “free” product). It spiraled from there into something I’m making a career out of, something that I love which takes up huge amounts of my time.
But it means that now I need to turn off work-brain to enjoy porn. When I use a new toy, it’s for work. I think through the orgasm – do I like how the toy feels and functions? Are there changes I would make? What toys does it remind me of? What isn’t it doing for me that I wish it was? – it means that part of my brain is detached when with a partner because I’m analyzing that, too. And I can turn this off, but it’s hard. When I’m working, I don’t have this issue because my brain is right where it should be.
Eventually the work it took for me to “switch off” this part of my brain became too much, but I still loved and valued what I was doing professionally and didn’t want to change that.
Eventually I realized that I simply enjoyed these things more when I was being paid for it (usually).
I like to joke that I’m “money-sexual”. I love sex, but I love money more – frankly, I love money more than most things.
Sex is great, don’t get me wrong. But it is work now, and years in these industries has caused me to have an ingrained monetary value to what I’m doing. As far as I’m concerned, this isn’t a bad thing. It just means that I pursue very, very little sex outside of work and that my dynamics and relationships are built on a different foundation than they once were.
I’m less interested in sex now, more interested in flirting, in kissing, in feeling the electricity of the lead up. I don’t get much of that through work.
I spend my days figuring out someone else’s fantasy, usually without any cues from them, and being that thing. And I love that, I get off hard on being your thing, whatever that is, but it’s much harder for me to accept attention when I’m just…me. When I’m relaxed and settled, not dressed up and mid-performance. I try to keep my “work persona” as authentic as I can, but profesh-Taylor is definitely more confident in their desirability and in the performance of it. I’ve learned (over) confidence and bravado, but I’ve also learned that I know how to make myself into a commodity that’s wanted…by being someone slightly different. By extension, I’m less confident when I’m trying to purposefully remain me.
What I love most is the kink. It’s finding out what works for people and why, learning how their brains work in relation to sex. I find sexuality fascinating – I want to climb inside your brain and learn how you tick, to use that knowledge to get you off, to torture you, to have fun with you. Intellectually, brains and sex are incredibly interesting. Learning them, even a little, and building something great off of that satisfies me, turns me on, makes me have fun.
I’m a pleaser. I love doing and being the thing that you love, especially if I’m super into you or if you have good reactions. I love fulfilling people’s fantasies, and can genuinely get into almost everything if the right conditions are met.
But sometimes it’s hard to remember what remains when you’re not simply reflecting back to the observer (oh hey, it’s like I have depersonalization disorder or something, what? no….).
I love sex, but I don’t.
I’m fairly certain that I’m still on the ace spectrum. I’m definitely not sex-repulsed anymore, it’s more that I just…don’t care about sex and orgasms. Until I do, and then I really do. Left to my own devices, it takes me months to realize that I haven’t orgasmed in a bit. It just isn’t really something that crosses my mind.
Sex is fantastic and something that I crave, love, and enjoy. It fascinates me, confuses me, and is on my mind incredibly often, typically in more abstract ways. I very actively want all the sex that I have. But if I’m not paying attention, my body will easily and often switch off the part that reminds me that I want to do more of it.
I honestly don’t know how to explain this distinction without making it seem like I don’t actually enjoy sex through sex work or reviewing, because that’s not true. I love what I do and wouldn’t want to give it up. I find it deeply fulfilling on a number of levels, and love having the sex I have with the clients that I decide to see. If you’re a professional chef and cooking is your passion, how often do you come home and immediately want to start cooking a three course meal? This doesn’t take away from how much you genuinely enjoy cooking for other people, but maybe it’s not your favourite pass-time after doing it all day. It’s the same with me.
Sex work gives me the opportunity to explore parts of myself and others that I don’t always get – both physically and mentally. Being a sex worker and sex educator allows me to employ a wide range of my skills and interested – photography, writing, networking, sex/uality, psychology, and more – in ways that fulfill me and make me feel like I’m in the right place. Learning that I have less interest in sex outside of work is not a negative thing, it’s simply a thing. The relationships that I form personally, professionally, or both, are all ones that are deeply important and valuable to me, and that’s all I need. There is no problem that needs fixing or puzzle to solve, this is how I am (at least for now), and I am happy with where I’ve ended up.
