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I became precise in my rejection of people based solely on their looks, age, or interests.
But once again, it's hard to get to really know someone without revealing a key piece of information, mainly that all of your income is derived from the sexual services you sell, and more than that, a brand that revolves around sex.
They'd probably get into a high fiving contest with their friends.
In the first year of being single, I just kind of reveled in my freedom. If I wanted great sex with a hot guy who wasn't going to try to bog me down in emotional stuff, I could just call one of my coworkers.
A guy with six pack abs kissing a dolphin with a graduate degree in comparative literature? I love history and music and I have a pitbull rescue named Coco that I'm over-emotionally attached to.
But I also didn't worry too much about what might happen if I ever wanted to date a "civilian," since I wouldn't have to explain much more than that I had sex with women on camera sometimes.
I didn't mind telling him about the past three years I'd spent in New York working as an art model. I also realize that reality is a long way off, and in the meantime I spend a lot of my time wading through the bog of shit that is other people's shame and rage as it relates to their sexuality. I justified this to myself with the notion that, hey, who knows if this is even serious and why weigh it down unnecessarily with all of the heavy lifting of institutionalized sexism that demands very specific sanctions against women that are empowered in any way financially or sexually, and, most especially, both? I can already hear everyone who hates porn weighing in with some hot take that's most likely based on irrational feelings rather than empirical truths. I drove home knowing it was an impossible situation.