It was around the time that I had settled into my new job at the in-house brothel, that I started to really feel the pinch of whore phobia in my personal life. It was the beginning of a run of bad experiences that eventually pushed me into the closet in a very real way. I stopped being the “happy hooker” high on my own sense of power, always open and honest with everyone as if I had not a care in the world, and instead I began sinking into confusion, guilt, lies. It was the discrimination I faced outside of work that eventually led me to the split personality of the double life I now lead. I learnt to lie to protect myself from the people who didnt pay me.
I am talking about *grimace* relationships. Romantic emotional relationships. I fell into bed and not long after, in “love” with a friend. Someone who already knew about my work so we didn’t need to have the talk . And I didn’t need to worry about whether they’d still like me, or explain all the nitty-gritty details that new people often want. We were friends, they already knew me. It never occurred to me that my work would be an issue. It was just a job, right?
Oh how naive I was.
My new partner wasnt the controlling type, or at least, they didn’t want to be. But they were the jealous type. And with me being totally unaware that someone who loved me would possibly have problems with my work, it took a while before the unspoken started seeping through the cracks.
2 years I stayed with this person. They lived with me. Lived off of me. And their hatred of my job grew, fueling cruel and bitter words. 2 years I lived with guilt and shame and confusion and uncertainty.
I knew my work was just work. I knew we both depended on the money. I knew I liked the job better than other jobs I had. I knew without it we would struggle. I knew I had nothing to be ashamed off. But I knew this person hated it. Hated me doing it. Hated me. Hated it. Hate hate hate. It wasn’t a nice place to be. I worked more trying to get away, my partner spent more time hating me trying to keep me.
It wasn’t healthy. But then I guess lots of relationships aren’t.
I wrote this poem at the time. Its kinda childish, but I was only 19 or 20 at the time. I found it in my diary.
The Right Words:
You watch me get ready, you’re not ok.
I search for the right words to take your pain away
unwanted guilt clouds my mind
making truth and clarity hard to find
I try to ignore it but I feel your pain
Some days it feels like we are both insane
Thoughts and feelings racing around
Do I argue and fight? or be gentle and kind?
Should I make you promises I don’t want to keep?
And then I’ll slip down that slope and be in too deep.
The air is tense as you watch me dress
I really hate dealing with this stress
I don’t want to leave – but i got the call
The arguing starts as i walk down the hall.
“you better not cum, or let him kiss”
FOR FUCK SAKE how many times must we go through this!!!
“There are other ways to make money……. don’t you have any self-respect honey?”
When resentment enters, I get mean
“Do I have to justify it all again??” I scream
I’m proud, I manage, and I stay strong.
And I know im not doing anything wrong.
I hate arguing like this every day
I just wish I knew the right words to say.