She’s Too Earnest, Too Much.

This should probably count as a slightly sensitive post, but I believe in authenticity, and in being real and vulnerable with my readers.

Sometimes—actually, many times—I feel that I am too much.

Too sensitive, too independent, too earnest, too free-spirited, too perfectionistic, too different.

I feel things so deeply. I overthink. I wear my heart on my sleeve. My head can be a very loud place to be in sometimes.

And, as confirmed by everyone who knows me, I can't help but wear every emotion I'm feeling on my face.

I hold strong values and have a proud character—I have always been this way. And I refuse to change who I am just so I can fit into some make-believe mould.

And despite all that, sometimes, deep down, I fear that I'm too sensitive for this job.

In my first year of companionship alone, I've already met two people with whom I felt our relationship could have potentially gone somewhere, had we met under different circumstances—and had neither of us been so stubbornly independent... and continue to be so.

But that's not something I'm going to go into now.

Maybe it'll be a story for another day... or potentially never.

As I really like my privacy.

~ ~ ~~

Instead, I'll go into something else today.

In the world that I grew up in, and still inhabit, women like me are often labelled as too daring, too sensual, too sexually expressive to be respected or accepted.

I've been having these thoughts for a while now.

They've been coming up especially strongly lately, after I tried to disclose my alter ego to a close school friend I'd known for many years while having dinner with her on a personal visit to Singapore.

I made up a story.

Or rather, I told her the true story of my double life—just without telling her that it was mine.

I told her I had met a Singaporean girl in Melbourne named Maxine, who was first a sugar baby and had more recently become an escort.

Maxine met many different people (after screening them with proper safety measures), and had adventures and experiences that most wouldn't even dream of.

I asked my friend:

What do you think of girls like Maxine?

Sadly, but perhaps not surprisingly, my friend didn't react well to Maxine's story at all.

“I don't think well of girls like her.”

“We should be using our brains to make money, not our bodies...”

You might wonder why I even tried to disclose this to my school friend.

Some may think me naive or silly.

I did it because I deeply wanted more people in my personal circle to know the full me—all the different aspects of my life.

I wanted to be known fully and, hopefully, accepted for who I am. But I wasn't.

There was something strange about sitting across from someone who had known me for years, listening to her judge a woman she didn't realise was sitting right in front of her.

I was still the same person she had always known. The same brain, the same character, the same values.

She just didn't know this part of me.

And if only she knew how much of our brains we actually have to use in our jobs.

Meeting a stranger for the first time. Receiving a text from a random number and trying to decipher whether they might be a good fit. And then, when it comes to the date itself, creating a pleasurable experience on both an interpersonal and physical level to make it worth the price tag.

And yes, people pay us for intimacy—but that is only one part of it.

This job continues to ask more of me than I ever imagined. I've stretched so much as a person to encompass everything I need to be to do my job well, while also facing discrimination and navigating the realities of a double life. And gents, this is why so many of us ladies choose to hide our faces. Society is not always kind to women like us, even though we fulfil a very real human need.

Companionship. A non-judgemental listening ear. Touch. Human tenderness and closeness.

These are things humans have always craved, and yet there is still so much shame attached to the women who provide them.

It's all rather hypocritical.

One thing I never want to lose on my journey as Maxine, though, is my vulnerability and my humanity.

Those who've met me often tell me that these are the things that make them connect with me—and the things that keep them coming back.

And, more importantly, they're what make me me.

So perhaps, is my too-much-ness a gift?

Thank you for reading my letter today.

— Maxine x

♥️