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Oh, and the lies! Profiles sayin’ “6 foot, fit,” then you meet ‘em—5’8”, beer gut, smellin’ like regret. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, if I could pick the liars out. Surprised me how bold they get—catfishin’ like it’s an Olympic sport. One time, this bloke sent me a dick pic, unasked! I’m like, “Mate, I didn’t order sausage!” Laughed my ass off, but also—eww, boundaries, ya pig!

25 thoughts on “Confessions of a Former Sex Worker by Anonymous”

have influenced the interpretation of an image. Art historians are rightly critical of associating wool-working scenes with prostitution: many scenes.

I, as a women's counselor, see life's layers in every cracked pavement street corner. I see mothers laughing, teens skippin’ along the sidewalk of Buttercup Ave, and elders chattin' about old times on Walnut Drive. It fills me with mixed feels – sometimes mad, sometimes happy, always raw. I once had a session right under a giant sycamore on Riverside Park. It was magical, but also super toasty, my nerves all jittery but free. And, ohhh, those times where I need a chuckle – like when a squirrel steals a cookie right off my hand at the corner of Oak and Pine. Such little miracles, my precious, so silly, LOL.

I-894/Loomis Road Project: Construction that could impact your commute