I mean, really, I was an escort which we all know is a hell of a lot classier then a prostitute, right? Ha. At the end of the day if you gotta take the dick outta your mouth before you go home from work, you is a ho. It wasn’t my proudest moment. In fact it helped stick me into a deep depression that fed my drug addiction and insecurities. Oddly enough at the same time it fulfilled this need I can’t seem to find an ends to, called adventure. It wasn’t all bad. You get to be who ever you wanted to be for that moment in time. It was mysterious, and it was bad. It turned that scared boy into a man in a very short period of time and gave me plenty of other opportunities that became positive experiences in life.
I never thought getting into sex work was going to effect me in the future. Maybe that’s the beauty of being in your 20’s. You’re too stupid and clueless to realize how your actions will shape your future, so you do them, have fun, and pay for them later. It’s pretty much the young adult mantra. It didn’t stop with escorting. Movies were made and pictures were taken. This thing called the internet was starting to catch on. I had no clue it held the ability for these videos and pictures to last FOREVER. So naturally, I thought it would be a good idea to become a teacher.
First I became a hair stylist. My fast lifestyle fit right in with the crazy, neurotic lifestyle and culture of doing hair. The industry did so much for me. I was in sex work for 10 years, and there was no place I could think of other then a gay bathhouse that my resume would stand a chance. Cosmetology gave me a second chance.
I wanted to be a teacher for the people that wanted their second chance. I do it so I can make a difference. I tell them that I was once beat down and broken and pulled through to tell the story. If I can do it, then anyone can, and I am sure to remind them of this whenever they need motivation. Anyone can facilitate the information. It takes something extra to care about the people that you are giving the information to. Sure getting “Happy Fathers Day” texts makes me feel like an old, wrinkled fool, but it lets me know that I am doing exactly what I set out to do. When the administration is getting down on me and I start to get discouraged, I quickly remind myself that I am here for the students. I’m protective of these guys, I get attached and I cry when they graduate.
It’s kinda awesome getting to be this guy. Someone that gets respect and someone that people look up to…as long as they don’t find me butt ass naked on an internet search at least.