This guy knew I was a *** worker. It says so, right within my Bumble profile: retired media ***, current actual ***.
He had even commented on it, using what every woman longs to know from the 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 just like a tonne of bricks.
"That is clearly 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 sometimes surprises people to know that *** workers do a number of normal people activities, like working other jobs, studying, taking the bins out. We exist in actuality after our shifts end and the red light is flicked off; we have dinner with this families and shop at K-Mart and wait on hold with this websites providers for what feels like hours.
It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we have at the of***e could be enough to replace with a possible lack of intimate connection within our lives outside work; so many of us also date, with varied levels of success.
A few months ago, I ended a connection with a person I have been seeing for almost two years. In private, he was a huge supporter of me working, but around his colleagues and friends his tune did actually change. He would introduce me, but hesitate in describing our relationship; when he explained, "This is Kate..." the silence that hung in the room where, "...my girlfriend," should have now been weighed a tonne.
I don't genuinely believe that he personally had a trouble with me being a *** worker, but I do feel that the chance of other folks judging me – and then judging him to be with me – was enough to create him want to help keep me a secret.
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