This man knew I was a *** worker. It says so, right in my own Bumble profile: retired media ***, current actual ***.
He'd even commented onto it, using the language every woman longs to know from a romantic interest:'Haha, nice

'. And yet I watched as his face contorted 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 is a lot," he said, and he then rolled onto 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 actuality after our shifts end and the red light is flicked off; we've dinner with this families and shop at K-Mart and wait on hold with this websites providers for what feels as though hours.
It's not common that the physical and emotional experiences we have at the of***e will be enough to make up for a potential not enough intimate connection in our lives beyond work; so most of us also date, with varied levels of success.
A couple of months ago, I ended a relationship with a man I had been seeing for almost two years. In private, he was a huge supporter of me working, but around his colleagues and friends his tune seemed to change. He'd introduce me, but hesitate in describing our relationship; when he said, "That is Kate..." the silence that hung in the room where, "...my girlfriend," should have been weighed a tonne.
I don't think that he personally had a problem with me being fully a *** worker, but I do believe that the possibility of other folks judging me – and then judging him if you are with me – was enough to create him want to keep me a secret.
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