Growing up in a traditional Sikh household means silence about sex is basically a cultural religion. My parents still talk about arranging my marriage like it's some grand ceremony where love will magically appear after the wedding. But I know myself. I know what I want. And right now, what I want isn't waiting.
Birmingham's got this hidden world most people never see. Respectable men like me leading double lives. During the day, I'm the perfect son. Turban neat, job stable, family reputation intact. At night, I'm searching for connection that goes beyond what my community expects.
My first escort experience was terrifying and electrifying. So much shame swirling inside me. But also this incredible relief. Someone seeing me. Not the version my family wants. Just me.
I can't tell my cousins. Can't tell my mates from the gurdwara. They'd look at me like I'd betrayed everything. But haven't I also been betrayed? Forced into a narrative that doesn't fit my desires, my hunger for real intimacy?
Some nights I wonder if I'm running from something. Or running towards something. Maybe both.