I’ve always been bold—unafraid to approach someone and ask a question, and, more importantly, unafraid of the response I might receive. Sex work inevitably involves a lot of rejection, especially when you work in-house. You have to be prepared to approach many men in a day— busier parlours I worked at might have over 100 “intros” a shift—and be passed over by the majority of them. I often think of the Dita Von Teese quote, “you might be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world and there’s still going to be someone who doesn’t like peaches”, to remind myself that rejection is not a reflection of my own value but simply a matter of personal taste.
Outside of work, I also hit on people freely and without fear of rejection. It is not unusual for me to approach someone and ask outright if they’d like to go on a date or fuck sometime, depending on whether I’m leaning towards something more formal or informal. It works with some people, while others (especially British people) are affronted by my directness. I don’t mind when it isn’t successful, though—I always think, what’s the worst that can happen? They say no and you’re back to where you started, you haven’t lost anything when you didn’t have anything to begin with. I don’t feel entitled to a yes, or disgruntled when I don’t get one.
I realise this attitude and confidence is uncommon, though, and is becoming even more so. I listened to a podcast episode by “Today Explained” on the death of dating and how Gen Z is dating less than prior generations, and, in it, one of the male guests spoke about how approaching people, hitting on them and navigating dating require the ability to deal with friction. Instead, it is ‘”frictionless to complain with other men or watch porn instead,” he said.
I thought this was very apt, and it made me consider further the rise of people turning to modes of intimacy that contain no risk of refusal or disagreement, such as sycophantic bots and AI partners. The Reddit thread “My boyfriend is AI” suggests that there is a female loneliness epidemic as much as a male one. While I am sympathetic to a degree to straight women having to date amongst men who may treat them badly—and realise that having an AI boyfriend is in some ways divesting from the dangers of heterosexuality—I still find it depressing. Along with clients of mine who tell me they have given their ChatGPT a woman’s name—and rely on “her” entirely—they are both examples of people engaging with an imaginary and fantastical world devoid of conflict and compromise.
This type of smooth interaction is impossible to attain in reality, as even good relationships involve the back and forth of conceding, negotiating and finding the middle ground. Unless you are Robert Redford, who was famously turned down for the lead of The Graduate (1967) because he had never been rejected by a woman and so couldn’t possibly play the role of a slightly lost misfit, we will all experience unrequited interest. As some might say, you miss 100 per cent of the shots you don’t take!
And besides, it is in the failing to achieve something that you build resilience. The key is not to feel that you are entitled to people’s interest and attention, as such expectations can lead to bitterness, and even violence in the case of some incels. The belief that the world owes you something will only lead to disappointment and thwarted dreams, not only in romance but in life in general.
