I think everyone has one of these. That little thing we don't want anyone to see, or hear, or know about. Psychological, physical, emotional... it could be Britney Spears on a hipster's ipod, or Gor in a feminist's bookshelf. For one lover, it was the thigh highs he stuck in the corner of his sock drawer... for another, it was the chest of toys and costumes he hid under his bed, meticulous about making sure that no angle would betray the contents. A lesbian I dated was embarrassed by the gay male porn she watched. I know for me it's my smut- poorly written filth is the only thing that gets me off when I reach for the hitachi, leaving my Anais Nin, Pat Califia, and Carol Queen proudly displayed, but passed over when I want to cum.

I appreciate the world of the dirty little secret, for sure. I love it when a lover holds my chin, makes me look him in the eyes, and tell him what sort of stories I was reading the night before. I like that I have something to feel humilated around. I love making someone confess their own secrets.

But I hate- HATE- being that secret myself.

The nature of my work, and the nature of who and how I am as a person, tends to lend itself to the concept that I'm the one you call up for a booty call, not the one you introduce to your friends. I don't mind not being the person who meets your parents- you won't likely meet mine anyway- but I want to have photos of us hanging out, I want to be invited to things with you and your buddies. I want you to admit you know me, even to be proud you know me. I don't want to be in your sock drawer or under your bed.

One of the things the hooker says in the movie I watched yesterday is "I'm a REAL PERSON". I think this is probably the hardest thing for me to cope with, not just as a sex worker, but as a polyamorous queer kinkster. Because so much of my life is about sexuality, people tend to forget I'm not just a walking real doll- and I'm more sensitive than, perhaps, I should be around people's reactions and responses to me engaging in other parts of their life.

It's not just a thing with lovers, either, though it hits harder there- friends, too. I guess I hate the feeling of being hidden away. Because being the dirty little secret means shame- and I don't want someone to feel ashamed to admit they know me, or play with me, or care about me.

(cue some Smiths song)