In new book Irish prostitute talks about her double life as middle class mother
From convent school to wife, to prostitution - the diary of a double life in Ireland
The men she has serviced come in all shapes and sizes – from 25 years of age to grandfathers.
Occupations range from labourers and farmers to university professors. One was wearing a miraculous medal, which she asked him to remove before having sex. It came as a surprise to her that they tended not to be predatory men casually cheating on their wives. One of her earliest clients, frazzled by stress, fell asleep during his massage.
“The media portrayal of men who use the sex industry services are all supposed to be horrible and seedy and manky and dirty and abusive. My experience was the opposite,” she says. “I have to be careful saying that because I appreciate that there’s a very dark side to this industry – that there are an awful lot of vulnerable people who are trafficked into it, but I can only talk about my experiences and that there is another side to it.
“The guys were so normal. You’d have your fat, bald guy in his forties and there’s nothing happening at home because she’s too busy with the kids. On the other side of it you’d have a guy in his thirties and his partner was out of the country or they were very horny and hadn’t had sex in ages. Nothing to do with not being in love with their partner or being satisfied with their sex life; they just needed some relief I suppose.
“An awful lot of the guys had a really, really high libido so much so that it interfered with their normal activities. They might have sex with their partner in the morning but by lunchtime, they’re distracted again and can’t focus. One of my clients like this was 65. They would describe it as a nuisance. It was not a good thing.
“I would say I took something good away from 85 to 90 percent of the experiences. Sometimes I’d be buoyed up by having really good sex or by something remarkable they had said about their home lives or private lives.”
After a year in the trade, the edges around her private life started to fray. Leading a double life was exhausting. She felt, she says, “like Batman”. She had six email addresses. She had trouble sleeping – her head was spinning so much in trying to double guess scenarios and in covering her tracks. Her mother complained to her that her phone was always going through to voicemail. She always had to think twice about which name to use when signing a form at the bank. Her code for taking business calls in front of the family became conspicuous.
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