This person knew I was a *** worker. It says so, right within my Bumble profile: retired media ***, current actual ***.
He had even commented about it, using the language every woman longs to know from a romantic interest:'Haha, nice
'. And yet I watched as his face contorted directly into an expression of disgust, his upper lip curling as the reality of my profession came crashing down around him such as for instance a tonne of bricks.
"That's a lot," he explained, and he then rolled on to his back and stared at the ceiling. I didn't hear from him again.
It often surprises people to hear that *** workers do all sorts of normal people activities, like working other jobs, studying, taking the bins out. We exist in real life after our shifts end and the red light is flicked off; we have dinner with our families and shop at K-Mart and wait on hold with your internet service providers for what feels as though hours.
It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we've at the of***e could be enough to make up for a potential insuf***ient intimate connection within our lives beyond work; so many of us also date, with varied levels of success.
A few months ago, I ended a relationship with a person I had been seeing for pretty much two years. In private, he was a huge supporter of me working, but around his colleagues and friends his tune did actually change. He'd introduce me, but hesitate in describing our relationship; when he explained, "This really is Kate..." the silence that hung in the room where, "...my girlfriend," should have now been weighed a tonne.
I don't think that he personally had a problem with me being truly a *** worker, but I actually do think that the likelihood of other folks judging me – and then judging him for being with me – was enough to make him want to keep me a secret.
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