Okay, let me just say this right off the bat: this is probably the most vulnerable thing I have ever talked about publicly. And that is saying a lot, because if you have been following me for any length of time, you know I do not shy away from the awkward, the taboo, or the deeply personal. But this one? This one felt different.
I tried a happy ending massage from a man. And what I walked away with had almost nothing to do with the physical act itself — and everything to do with what it brought up emotionally.
Why I Did It
I have always been someone who is curious about the edges of my own comfort zone. Not in a reckless way, but in a way that I think helps me grow. As a sex educator in training, I want to understand intimacy from as many angles as I can — not just the textbook version, but the messy, real, human version. The kind that makes your palms sweat a little when you think about admitting it out loud.
Part of me was genuinely curious about the experience. We hear about happy endings almost exclusively in the context of men seeking out this service from women. But what about the reverse? What happens when a woman puts herself in that position? What does it feel like to be on the receiving end of something that is so commonly associated with male desire?
I wanted to find out. So I did.
Why It Was Disappointing
Here is where it gets honest. The experience itself was … underwhelming. And not because anything went wrong. Not because the person was unkind or unskilled. It was disappointing because it confirmed something I think a lot of women already know deep down but struggle to articulate: for most of us, physical pleasure without emotional presence just does not land the same way.
The experience confirmed something I think a lot of women already know but struggle to articulate: physical pleasure without emotional presence just does not land the same way.
There is a difference between something feeling physically okay and something feeling genuinely good. And that gap — between sensation and satisfaction — is where a whole world of nuance lives that we rarely talk about. I left feeling more curious about my own needs than I did before walking in. Which, honestly? I think that is the best possible outcome.
Why Women Don’t Seek Out Sex Work
This is something I have thought about a lot since this experience. When we talk about sex work, the conversation almost always centers on men as consumers. And there is a real reason for that. It is not just cultural conditioning (though that plays a huge role). It is also about what women tend to need to feel genuine pleasure and arousal.
For a lot of women, desire is not a switch that flips because someone touches you in the right spot. Desire is built through trust, anticipation, emotional safety, and connection. That does not mean women do not want physical pleasure — of course we do. But the pathway to getting there is often more layered than simply booking an appointment.
That is not a flaw. That is not women being too complicated or too in their heads. It is just how many of us are wired, and it is worth talking about openly instead of treating it like some kind of obstacle to overcome.
What My Community Said
Before I made the video about this, I asked my community what they thought. And honestly, the responses blew me away. So many women said they had been curious about the same thing but would never actually do it. Some said they had tried it and felt similarly disconnected. Others said they had incredible experiences and that it gave them a deeper understanding of what they wanted from partners.
The range of responses reminded me why I do what I do. There is no single right answer when it comes to sex and intimacy. There is only honesty, self-awareness, and the willingness to keep exploring what works for you without shame.
Why Women Feel Shy or Hesitant
I think the biggest thing this experience brought up for me was recognizing how much societal shame still clings to women who actively pursue their own pleasure. Even I — someone who literally makes content about sex for a living — felt a wave of hesitation before, during, and after. I kept asking myself: is this okay? Am I allowed to want this? What does it say about me?
And those questions are not really about the act itself. They are about the stories we have been told our entire lives about what it means to be a “good” woman, a “respectable” woman, a woman who does not want too much or ask for too much or take up too much space in her own desire.
If you have ever felt that hesitation — that quiet voice that says you should not be curious about something — I want you to know that the curiosity itself is not the problem. The shame around it is.
What I Actually Learned
At the end of the day, this experience taught me more about myself than anything else. It taught me that I value emotional connection more than I sometimes admit. It taught me that vulnerability is not just something I talk about on camera — it is something I have to practice in my own life. And it taught me that there is immense power in doing something that scares you, sitting with whatever comes up, and then being brave enough to talk about it honestly.
I am not here to tell you what to do with your body or your desire. I am here to tell you that whatever you are feeling is worth examining, worth discussing, and absolutely worth taking seriously.