Take notes. I am still a single parent. Call the babysitter. Go to work. I should be shamed for writing this. That’s the thing about survival. The issue is not morality. This is a class issue. This is an economic issue. This is a caste issue. Mainly women. But I’ve known a ton of men who do sex work, too. I have known lots sex workers who have kids. I was a teacher, too. I had three conventional jobs. And still, I pushed a shopping cart through grocery stores, and then, I’d leave because I didn’t have that much money. My kids and I ate a lot of popcorn. My books never made spit. I so regret being a writer. I regret knowing writers. I will tell you sex workers have more tenacity, creativity, communication skills, and here’s the big thing, they listen. Versus the meanness, the clawing, and the corruption of publishing. 

Sex workers were very kind to me. Publishing is dog eat dog. The one thing that surprised me was the need for many men who just wanted to talk. Most of them were cops. Ever see a cop cry. Men tough as nails were desperate to be in a situation they did not choose to own as authority. “Will you cuddle me.” So I would cuddle them. The issue is control. They wanted to lose control because their jobs demanded assuming authority. My fav was an Israeli soldier frequent flier. No one I knew was aware that I had this fourth job. I told no one. It is the best animal to ride in terms of understanding people for who they really were. I carried a gun. I never had to use it.