How My Partner Helps with My Job

My job nowadays is all down to teamwork, communication, and a jolly good sense of humour.


Being a clip producer isn’t exactly physically demanding … for most people. As always, I’m not most people. As I mention in this post I can’t put on the intricate lingerie needed for my job by myself, but that’s not all. Nowadays, half of my feet are numb, and this means I’m essentially a danger to myself. I have absolutely no balance. I can’t tell whether or not I’m walking into things, and I am very prone to falling over.

As you can imagine this isn’t exactly conducive to being a clip producer or cam model. When I need to work my partner has to set up the screen for the clips I film, change it if necessary (good old green screen work), set up my lights, bring my affectionately named ‘slut boxes’ downstairs (because I also can’t work upstairs anymore, I do the stairs once a day – once down, once up), position the camera, and do the fiddly battery and SD card changing. He probably does a lot more that I’m can’t remember, but you get the gist.

And after writing all this out I’m now wondering if he needs a cut of the profits, he is my partner after all, but … sshh.

The above is only the physical side of the job too, whilst I edit and do all the fancy things to the clips, he keeps me motivated and helps when I have a rough day in order to make everything easier. I’ve never ever had someone support me so much, and at times it’s overwhelming – in a good way. It touches me in ways I’ve never been touched before. *ahem*

The end result, or what’s seen on camera, is a mostly put together Dominatrix-esque human that’s eloquent, busty, well lit, and loquacious. However, what’s not seen on camera are my swollen, purple, and ice-cold feet, my inability to get up and down a chair safely, the exhaustion, the continual texts to my partner to help with x, y, and z, and the mental gymnastics I go through squashing the impulse to gesticulate as much as I’d like (my hips and wrists rebel).

My partner is amazing, and I hate it. Rather, I hate that he has to help me with everything as I’m a very independent person – just ask my carers, they’re always telling me off for doing things I shouldn’t. I hate that my disabilities mean that I need this amount of help. All in all though, at the end of the day I’m grateful I have such an amazing partner. My job nowadays is all down to teamwork, communication, and a jolly good sense of humour.

You see, mass media that likes sensationalism, not all partners resent their sex worker partners. Being with a sex worker means you have to be open-minded. Being with a disabled sex worker means you have to be open-minded, ready for anything, and willing to lend a hand when the crotch snaps absolutely refuse to cooperate with your not so nimble fingers.

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