This person knew I was a *** worker. It says so, right in my Bumble profile: retired media ***, current actual ***.
He had even commented about it, using what every woman longs to hear 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 like a tonne of bricks.
"That is clearly a lot," he said, and then he rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. I didn't hear from him again.
It often surprises people to know that *** workers do all sorts of normal people activities, like working other jobs, studying, taking the bins out. We exist in the real world 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 our online sites providers for what feels as though hours.
It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we've at the of***e will be enough to replace with a potential not enough intimate connection in our lives beyond work; so most 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 nearly two years. In private, he was an enormous 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 is Kate..." the silence that hung in the room where, "...my girlfriend," should have now been weighed a tonne.
I don't believe he personally had a problem with me being truly a *** worker, but I actually do believe that the likelihood of others judging me – and then judging him if you are with me – was enough to create him want to help keep me a secret.
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