More than just sex: the overlooked role of sex workers
Many people assume that being a sex worker is only about sex, but in reality, it’s so much more than that. I wouldn’t claim to be anywhere near qualified as a therapist, yet there have been many moments in my job when I’ve felt like one. People seek sex workers for all kinds of reasons, and rarely is it just about physical intimacy. They come looking for affection, companionship, continuity, tenderness, someone to talk to, someone to explore with, and so much more. Generally, I believe people seek out our services because they want someone to feel close to, whatever shape or form that may take.
In some cases, these encounters can even play a role in a person’s healing journey, depending on what they are healing from. And don’t get me wrong, that’s one of the things I enjoy most about my work. I’m a social person. I love meeting new people, getting to know them, and sharing experiences with them, in the form of intimacy or in other ways. But the reality is that sex work is often as much about emotional labour as it is about physical connection, and that aspect of the job can sometimes be complicated.
When sex work becomes emotional labour
Every sex worker has likely encountered a client who, within minutes, made it clear that what they truly needed wasn’t a sex worker, it was a professional therapist.
Some might think that spending an hour simply talking instead of having sex makes the job easier, but for me, it’s the opposite. Before meeting a client, I always ask about their expectations, why they’re coming to see me and what they hope to get out of it. Never has anyone explicitly said they were looking for emotional support or a listening ear. Yet, it has happened more than once.
I understand that for many people, seeing a sex worker provides an opportunity to be vulnerable in a way they may not feel able to in other areas of life. The problem is that being a sex worker doesn’t mean being equipped to handle the weight of someone else’s trauma. Having a stranger unexpectedly unload their pain, grief, or past traumas on me is not “just part of the job.” That’s not what I’m being paid for, not what I want to be paid for, and certainly not what I offer.
Beyond that, I believe that receiving someone’s trauma in an environment where there is no structured support, no suitable way to guide them, and no framework to help them process it can actually be harmful. I have no problem with emotional intimacy—many of my most rewarding encounters have included meaningful conversations and genuine connection—but I cannot provide the kind of care that some people need, nor should I be expected to.
A message to clients: know what you’re looking for
If you regularly see sex workers, or are considering doing so for the first time, I encourage you to reflect on why you’re seeking out this experience.
In our gendered society, too many men are still raised to believe they must be tough, emotionless, or must at least pretend to be. While sex work serves a diverse clientele, the majority of those seeking our services are men (regardless of the provider’s gender). That’s why it’s so important for men, in particular, to take a moment to reflect on what they truly need, because that self-awareness benefits everyone involved, in this specific context and in others.
Are you looking for physical intimacy, affection, or a connection that is meaningful in the moment? Or are you actually looking for support in dealing with something deeper? If the latter is true, it’s worth asking yourself whether a sex worker is really the right person to help you with that.
Sex work isn’t therapy and that’s okay
I’m not saying therapy is the answer to all of life’s problems, nor do I believe that everyone should blindly seek out the first therapist they find. Therapy is not a magic fix, and not everyone benefits from it in the same way. But if what you’re looking for is someone to talk to, someone to help you process your emotions or personal struggles, then the least you can do is be honest about that need. First to yourself, and then communicate it clearly to the person you’re approaching, be it a therapist, a friend, or a sex worker. That way, they can make an informed choice about whether they’re the right person to support you.
I see this issue in a similar light to clients who try to book a session involving services I don’t offer. Most of us would agree that showing up to an appointment and requesting (or worse, expecting) acts that fall outside of a provider’s boundaries is, at best, disrespectful and, at worst, abusive. The same principle applies here. If what you truly need is emotional or mental health support, coping strategies or relationship advice, then seeking out the right professional is a basic form of respect.
Sex workers provide a service, but we are not a substitute for trained professionals when it comes to emotional support. It’s not that we don’t care, in fact, we may care quite a lot. But just as you wouldn’t go to a personal trainer expecting them to treat a medical condition, you shouldn’t go to a sex worker expecting them to act as your therapist.
Navigating intimacy with awareness and respect
Sex work is a valid and multifaceted profession. It’s not just about sex, it’s about connection, care, and at times, even emotional support. But it is not therapy, and sex workers are not therapists.
If you’re looking for something beyond what we offer, it’s worth asking yourself: am I seeking intimacy, or am I seeking help?
There is nothing wrong with needing someone to talk to, but it is important to direct that need appropriately. Sex workers deserve the same consideration and respect as any other professional. Being honest with yourself about what you want isn’t just good practice, it ensures that everyone involved gets what they need, with clarity, dignity, and respect.
