People love neat categories. Especially when it comes to men who see sex workers. It’s easier to picture a caricature than a human. Easier to assume something dark, desperate, or deviant than something… ordinary. But ordinary is exactly what surprises people the most. The men I spend time with are not outliers. They are not living secret lives filled with recklessness or shame. They are men with calendars to manage, responsibilities to juggle, and lives that look remarkably familiar to anyone paying attention.
They are executives and engineers. Widowers and husbands. New fathers and empty nesters. Men who show up on time, treat people kindly, and move through the world with a sense of decency that feels increasingly rare.
What often goes unacknowledged is that seeking connection does not erase character. It doesn’t suddenly overwrite manners, empathy, or integrity. A man doesn’t become someone else simply because he chooses to spend time with a sex worker. If anything, I find the opposite to be true. The men I see are thoughtful. They listen. They respect boundaries. They understand discretion not as secrecy, but as mutual care. Many of them have been part of my life for years, not because of habit, but because of trust.
There’s a quiet relief that comes with being met without judgment. Without performance. Without the need to explain or justify. In that space, people tend to be exactly who they already are. And who they are, more often than not, is kind. So when someone wonders aloud what kind of man would see a sex worker, I always think the same thing. The kind you pass in the grocery store. The kind you work beside. The kind you might already know. Sometimes the most radical truth is also the simplest one.
❤️ Charlotte