Navigating Dating as a High Demand Sexy Awesome Person (Sex worker)

 I’m writing this one for my peers. 

I understand this platform was put here so clients can read it, educate themselves, get a better idea of me, entertain them or show I have enough brain cells that I can hold a conversation in a booking. It’s an outlet too I suppose. But this one is for my peers because it’s a topic I’m deeply passionate about and I’ve had this conversation enough times recently that I figured it was worth writing down. And if clients read that, I am trusting everyone here to be adult enough to recognise that sex workers have lives outside of their profession and there are some issues we come up against that perhaps you hadn’t thought about.

I’m quite open about having a personal love life - it’s something I consider to be important to me. As I recently mentioned somewhere on Twitter, having that balance between sleeping with people who have chosen me, and sleeping with people I’ve chosen for myself, helps to keep my headspace regarding sex and intimacy in a healthy place. I’m a romantic, I love love, and I have quite a lot of experience with navigating love, dating and relationships with this field of work.

After my divorce, I moved to Australia where I didn’t know a single person and decided that dating apps might be a fun way to meet people. It was my first experience ‘dating’ and asides from one or two little blips, it has been an enriching experience. I’ve been here for over 5 years now, I’ve fallen in and out of love, reaffirmed and come out as my sexuality as a bi/pan woman, delved into the world of polyamory (more recently) and through heart break and L words, I’ve been simultaneously sex working and dating with the two worlds co-existing nicely in a degree of harmony. It’s been a wonderful ride.

Dating as a sex worker has its challenges though. You don’t know if a person you’ve just met/matched with is a progressive minded person. You probably don’t know yet how sex-positive they are, what their views are on feminism, what type of feminism they might ascribe to, what their upbringing looked like or how possessive they might be in relationships. There’s a lot to feel out about a person that a lot of non sex-working people might not have to. While old school romance complete with jealousy and possessiveness might be admired in some people’s (my opinion outdated) world - that can be dangerous for us. So what I’m often asked by friends in the industry is - ‘so when do I tell them about my job?’.

I’m going to underline everything I say here as opinion, and not everyone is going to agree with me. I’ve definitely got the experience to back up my advice, but that’s really all it is, and everyone makes their own choices according to what works for them. I’ve often heard people give the advice that it’s better to tell someone after they get to know you, so they see that you’re more than just a job title. And I think that logic can make sense - let a person get to know you so they understand there’s a real person behind the job. But to me, the problem lies in how much extra that’s going to really fucking hurt, when and if you get rejected. Down the road, they’re no longer just rejecting the job title, they’re also rejecting you - plus they’re also going to be pretty mad that you lied to them. It’s my opinion that deception isn’t a great way to start any relationship, even if you did it to protect yourself.  I don’t judge the choice to withhold this information by the way, we face a lot of stigma for what we do and opening ourselves up to judgment, particularly to people we might fancy, is terrifying. It can be nice just to be a civilian in someone's eyes for a while. But sooner or later whether you disclose, or they stumble across an advert or whatever - it's coming out and it's not going to be smooth sailing, it's going to be emotive and there's a high chance that you will not be met with immediate understanding.

Outing yourself to anyone as a sex worker is a big deal. People can get pretty mad, vengeful or vindictive when they find out we have sex for a job. Something about it really ticks people off. I don’t understand it, but it’s true. I myself am quite careful in some of my circles, as people with conservative upbringings in particular are simply never going to understand me. So outing yourself to someone you’ve just met or started talking to can seem like a really risky move - and it is. But there’s the other side to that - people who are more invested in you - that you’ve already been dating for a while, have more emotions at play when you eventually tell them what you do - and it’s my opinion that that is much more dangerous to you, especially when you throw feelings of deception in the mix.

My ‘strategy’ is to tell people before the first date. Whether that’s dating sites or the occasional person I have flirtations with at places I frequent - I never date a person who doesn’t know. I want to know, before I waste an evening where I could be working or doing literally anything else - if that person is going to be chill about my work before I invest time, energy and feelings into anything. Emphasis on ‘chill’ here, I also don’t want to date a person who fetishises it or is interested in the work beyond a healthy curiosity. Maybe we have a chat for a while about other things, and I usually keep the topic away from occupations for as long as humanly possible to see if I actually like them as a person, but eventually, and always before a date, I casually drop my job into the topic of conversation. I don’t frame it as an apology, I don’t frame it as a disclaimer, I don’t try to minimise it with a ‘but I do other things too’, I just talk about it like anyone who works in an office does - just as a simple fact. I’ll feel out what kind of questions they’re asking, and assess from there whether that first date is happening. If they aren’t chill or they start interrogating me, I just leave it. They aren’t really invested in me at this point and vice versa so there’s no real loss and it’s unlikely anything bad will come of it. They do not actually know who I am at this point anyway even if they wanted to be nasty.

On dating apps, I want to tell all sex workers quite categorically - NEVER SIGN UP UNDER YOUR REAL NAME. Do not link to your personal social media. Not only could a match go poorly, but there are also clients on dating apps. In fact I pretty much recommend not having your real name anywhere on the internet, tbh, wherever possible. This isn’t suspicious - many civilians have fake Facebook names and stuff because being a person, especially female and trans on the internet is actually pretty risky in general. Protect your identity first and NEVER tell potential dates your working name. I made this mistake early on and a couple of months after that date went poorly, they started txting me quoting my work website information and being a real dickhead. Keep them separate! 

Some people might think that mentioning it so early on will encourage judgement, but for me - I’d like to know right away if they’re the kind of person who would judge - I don’t really think I would change their mind by waiting longer to tell them. I’m quite conscious of my own time, I don’t have a whole heap of it spare, so I have no intention of wasting it on someone who isn’t already at a point of social progressiveness and sexual positivity as I am. That’s not labour I really want to have to put into someone, it sounds like a lot of hard work. 

Being single isn’t a bad thing. You’re a wonderful, beautiful and desirable person and that’s why people pay for your company - don’t sell yourself short on anyone who isn’t quite right, live your life with joy and if the right person comes along, great. If not, that’s also great - I think far too many people jump into relationships for the sake of it and have little time to evolve as individuals on their own. I also think though that a lot of us carry internalised stigma and feel we have to make difficult compromises in order to find love and sometimes settle for less than what we deserve. It breaks my heart when I hear peers saying they’re giving up on a personal sex/love life as I do believe deeply that we are all deserving of love and should be able to enjoy intimacy on our own time if we want to (also if you're a person that's quite kinky, having a safe personal space for play is quite important as client-side sex is still ultimately about the client over your own needs). I also find it hard to witness people in unhealthy relationships, fearing to leave in case no-one else will ever ‘accept’ their job.

Our job isn’t something to be tolerated or endured by partners. It isn’t something that should be held over us, that we feel we should live quietly and apologetically for. Dating is scary and for us has different layers of complexity, but each of us deserves cheerleaders and supporters in our lives, and my own philosophy with dating is that if your eyes aren't open for it, it won’t just magically appear for you like it does in the movies. Meet-cutes are literary, not reality. And while people often suggest dating clients, it’s my own anecdotal experience that this is messier than it immediately sounds, and dating people away from our industry gives us space to breathe away from the noise and expands our personal horizons. That’s an individual choice though. The tone we set for ourselves with dating can determine how we are received, and in disclosing our occupation with a degree of pride, it encourages the same in others. I believe if we treat it as a dark secret to people we let into our lives, they’ll hold it over us as one, and leaves us open to hurt and abuse. I want my peers to always tread carefully and protect their heart, but also not to close it off and deny themselves the same joys in life that others in life take for granted - you deserve love, intimacy and great sex on your own terms, with people who see you for the glorious You that you are.

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Community: is it though?

 I’ve always been looking for connection in one way or another. 

An only child, reclusive and a bit weird I’d always found it hard to make friends in school, yet I could never shake this feeling of loneliness. I wanted friends, I just couldn’t make friends out of the cliquey school crowd I was cursed with. I was coming of age when chatrooms became a thing, and MSN Messenger. Thankfully I was done with high school before Facebook really got it’s claws in. It was an odd time - this disconnected connectedness. The internet was a bridge to the mainland from my hopeless little island.

Sure, I met people I shouldn’t have from murky parts of the web, did some stupid stuff, got hurt and got in trouble. But these things were all happening to my peers in the schoolyard too, so how much blame we can put on digital platforms for the resulting messes I found myself in, who can say. But importantly, I wasn’t alone like I was in the ‘real world’, and the long nights talking to people I never met got me through some dark times - I can’t imagine the alternative if I didn’t have random music and literary chatrooms back then.

My story isn’t unique for my generation, many of us outcasts grew up online - it’s where everyone who felt different or misunderstood turned to for a moment of comfort or understanding. And it’s ballooned. Online communities aren’t just for the loners and subcultures anymore, in fact if you’re off the grid, you’re the ‘weirdo’ now.

Times have changed, and the roles we play online have shifted. Once I turned to chatrooms and forums to absorb myself into a new community, to feel supported and not so alone. But I’m not a teenager anymore, I’m well and truly adult and I’m no longer lonely, so increasingly I’m the one offering support and companionship to other online users who feel adrift. People turn to me, even if it’s inappropriate to do so. The exchange of energy has shifted to my detriment. I’m hosting exchanges rather than enjoying them, I’m the focus of too much attention and that can be anxiety inducing and strangely isolating. Online communities consist of so many fans demanding attention, games of smoke and mirrors and a phenomenon of simultaneous oversharing and censorship, as well as trolling and ‘cancel culture’.

Recently a friend of mine tragically died, and I wasn’t able to talk about it in spaces where I normally share. Not just because I couldn’t think of the words to say, but because I knew that my online network would largely be emotionally harmful to my situation. People aren’t respectful of sensitive topics anymore - fans will sexualise pretty much anything including grief, people ask inappropriate questions, interrogate, belittle or scorn. I actually felt it would be disrespectful to my friend to even mention it. So it really begs the question, can we even call it community anymore?

I’m away on a digital detox (at time of writing, not publishing)- I’ve deliberately escaped internet and cell reception so I can escape from all the noise. The safe space I need to nurture myself is with birds and baby animals, for now. To grieve I had to consciously create a space to do it. It’s interesting to me how my relationship with the internet has evolved over the years, from one that was a welcome escape, to one that I need to escape from. I can’t turn to the internet anymore, I mean it’s everywhere, it’s harder in fact to turn away from it. It’s likely no coincidence that my real life has blossomed to one less isolating, with meaningful relationships and a lesser sense of loneliness - no doubt that adds to my disillusionment in modern social internet, maybe I just don’t need it. But I have to wonder, with the internet as a massive social engine in the modern age, where it’s not just the misfits writing emo poetry in chatrooms, but an all encompassing validation tool that targets younger and younger people - who does this benefit now? When we no longer turn to our online communities for comfort, connection and kindness, but validation and addictive little dopamine hits - where do the sad, grieving or depressed people go now, if loved ones can’t be found? Social media promises connection and community but increasingly delivers more isolation and self doubt. Arguably it even fractures our sense of identity.

Sometimes it takes a tragedy to make us reassess what’s important. And day after day we invest hours into online spaces, where perhaps that time could be better spent invested in life itself - the people around us, and things that bring us joy. I do think, these relationships and experiences that are real and tangible, are the most important of all, and today especially, I’m sensitive to just how precious that time in our life is.

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Memory Lane

Memory is a funny thing. 

It forms our identity - largely how we perceive our selves and our lives is based on what memories we've got stored. In the present our brains are constantly interpreting and recording our surroundings and events into pages in our story - our selves built on the past. Yet it can’t be relied upon, we know that testimony can be influenced, and how we recollect memories is often shaped by how we retell them, an internal ‘broken telephone’ if you like. 

It should be of no surprise that I have a shocking memory, none of my job requires recall. And as they say with brain power, if you don’t use it , you lose it. I guess that’s why I try to read regularly, to keep the rest of my brain engaged. This work does require brainpower much the same as running any small business would, and really fine-tunes your interpersonal skills, but other parts of the brain can remain pretty much as dormant as you want them to be. Part of my job is forgetting, it’s easier for me to keep my peer’s real names secret if I just forget them, same with clients. It doesn’t benefit anybody for me to remember my client’s name is John - it probably isn’t.
It’s worrying how quickly memory function fails, though it’s promising for my clients - no-one ever has to worry about their discretion - you can’t tell secrets you can’t remember (but who would I tell?). It isn’t for lack of interest - active listening is one of my best skills which is really useful in this work. But I don’t need to remember that someone walks with a gait or that their hair is blonde, any more than I need to know the sky was blue on Tuesday. It’s past information that doesn’t influence the events of tomorrow. 

But I’ll have little flashes sometimes. Like the one I had before I sat down to my laptop, of flesh meshing into flesh, their hand wrapped under my back supporting my neck as they urgently thrust inside of me. I remember the boar-ish groan as they cum (my audial recollection unlike the rest, is impressive) and how they relaxed onto me, with dewy sweat and a waft of underarm odour. That moment is crystal clear in my memory, etched into my extensive carnal past. But I can’t see their face, remember their name or tell you when I saw them. Just a mystery man from memory lane.

I was standing at the sink the other day peeling my boiled eggs (yes, sex workers also do the mundane), when goosebumps swept across my body as my memory threw up the sensation of small feminine hands draped across my body, as they fucked me with a cold glass toy. It’s vivid, she’s begging me to cum in a high sweet voice, her scent is annoyingly floral and her thrusts are accurate and overwhelmingly effective. Another nice little memory jolt from a scene somewhere on the shelves of the library of my mind. A book falling open on a page during breakfast.

 
It’s a terrible thing to admit to, that sexual memories are loosely scattered in my brain unattached to identities. I guess as my job is so sexually oriented, that those things become the least memorable parts of the work. I can do large parts of my work on autopilot - I’ve given thousands of blowjobs. I love giving blowjobs, and I like to think I’m always present and in the moment, but if I need to, if I’ve got a lot of shit on my personal plate, I can do that entirely automated while solving my personal issues in my head, without a client noticing. That’s the skill of a veteran sex worker - existing in two places at once. 
Yet, I can recall immediately the pained expression of a client who had lost their child. Their face and name is clear. I can recall the sparkle of, and colour of the eyes of the person whose virginity I took recently, and the shockingly chewed state of the nails of a workaholic regular. I seem to have catalogued clients into sections of fleeting moments of meaningfulness, and random facts about their lives they probably deemed unimportant. The sexual moments of our time together, probably what they deemed most important and they themselves probably have memorised by the second,  floating away from my mind like dandelion pappi, leaving only occasional sensorily busy moments planted behind. I cum every day, it’s a self care routine of a bodily function I’d do myself anyway, so doesn’t operate like a bookmark for me in bookings as much as I think people would like to believe it would.

I worry for my mind sometimes, what will become of it with a lifetime built of hedonism and deliberate carnal forgetting, so I busy myself with learning and reading, which adds nothing to my work life but keeps my imagination alive and hopefully keeps my recall off a ventilator. I fight against what trauma has done to a large part of my former life - a big blank spot I can’t seem to reach, nor am I sure I want to. 

They say our mind does what it can to protect itself, but in this case it's an overzealous German shepherd - down boy. I no longer need protection from what I live day to day, I long to remember it all, it would make people in my own life, not just clients feel a lot more special if I could just remember what it is we actually did on our first date, I’m sure it was fun though. I also find writing helps my recall, and where it doesn’t I find it helps me to at least reimagine the parts that are missing in a way that if not entertaining or sexually pleasing, completes a story that otherwise would simply be unfinished chapters. Perhaps if I reread it often enough it’ll become part of my natural recall, a part of my story that’s not quite fiction, not quite truth, with a memory that can’t bear witness either way. 

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

An Ode to My Boobs

I remember Mum bought me a sports bra when I hit puberty, that I never grew into. 

Everyone thought I’d get the big titties that I was genetically predetermined to get, but I didn’t and I’m delighted. In my lifetime I’ve been quite surrounded by possessors of The Boobs, many of whom have strong enough feelings about their tits to surgically change them. I know many who have had reductions, and I know many more who have had implants to increase them. These are not minor surgeries, nor are they cheap. I know they can be sexy, gender affirming, and they feel damn nice. So we can conclude overall that tits are important to us. 

For me, they just aren’t though. I watched so many people struggle with back pain or discomfort with larger boobs, in my own family too. I’ve seen the deep bra indents on shoulders, the unattractive bra selection, the squinting from migraines caused by back pain caused by boobs. I’ve seen big boobs, alot, and I rather enjoy them - but are they practical? I’m not so sure. Definitely not sure enough to pay a lot of money, endure a lot of pain and unpaid leave to go and change them, with no guarantee I’d like the result. 

And it’s odd, because I work in an industry with high beauty standards - which society still tells us includes sizeable boobies. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve admired a successful glamorous escort who had boobs my size, only to witness them eventually ‘upgrade’. I’m running out of flat-chested whore idols. It comes up in conversation all the time with clients - regularly I’m told ‘don’t you dare change these’, when I had never once mentioned them or suggested I would. It’s almost an expectation now, that escorts will buy new boobs. And I’m not against people doing that, I believe people should do what makes them happy. For me I guess I’m just already happy - in spite of constant societal messaging, particularly in my corner of the world, that maybe I shouldn’t be.

My boobs are great, honestly. Thankyou to my genetic lottery for giving me these two beauties against all odds. They are reasonably symmetrical, an easy little handful, and most importantly - they don’t cause me any grief. These puppies required no surgery, and they are not heavy or uncomfortable. I can train heavily, jump, skip, run (if I wanted to) without thinking about them. They get a bit bigger or smaller through my cycle, but they always fit nicely into bras and cause me no bother. In fact I don’t really need to wear bras at all, I only do as the padding stops people staring at me every time my nipples catch a breeze. 

I’ve been an escort for many years now, and have done pretty well without any attempt to adhere to a big booby beauty standard. They’ve been fondled and enjoyed by many people, and to date - not one complaint! I am sure that one day they will sit a bit different, feel a little softer, but I will still be grateful for them, for being the one part of my femininity that hasn’t been a giant inconvenience. I’m keeping them. 

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au