Dating apps are a special kind of hell for someone like me. I'm autistic, which means every interaction feels like navigating a minefield of unspoken social rules. Swipe left, swipe right. Make witty small talk. Perform this performative dance of attraction that just exhausts me.
Escorts are different. With an escort, the terms are clear. There's no guessing. No wondering if I'm reading signals wrong or about to accidentally say something that kills the mood. We both know exactly what we want. Transaction, connection, mutual respect.
Belfast isn't exactly progressive about sex work. People whisper. Judge. But honestly? The stigma says more about their discomfort than my choices. I'm not hurting anyone. I'm finding human contact in a way that works for my neurodivergent brain.
Last month's encounter with Sarah - she was professional, kind. Understood when I needed a moment to decompress. Didn't expect constant eye contact or performative masculinity. Just genuine human warmth. Something dating apps promise but never deliver.
Some might call this transactional. I call it honest. At least here, expectations are transparent.