Sex Work, Drugs and Kindness: An Educational Note

This isn’t a lecture. It’s a small note for anyone who needs it—workers, clients, friends—about drugs and the industry, written to raise awareness and keep people safer. Not an “occupational guide,” not moralising. Just… care, on a page.

First thing: sex work doesn’t equal drugs. Not every worker drinks or uses. Plenty don’t.

Second thing—and this matters for stigma: people sometimes talk like drugs are “a sex industry thing.” They’re not. Drug use exists across every job and every postcode. If you’ve worked long enough in the real world, you know this: car sales, construction, mining, hospitality, corporate, even policing—the same struggles show up. Mrs Langtrees once spoke to the vice squad about a speed problem in the industry, and the head of vice told her, bluntly, they had the exact same problem inside the police force. That’s the point: this is a human issue, not a “those people” issue.

When workers do use, it’s usually not about chasing chaos—it’s about trying to get through a long shift, quiet a nervous system, keep the edges soft. The job can be beautiful and heavy in the same hour. When rent is due, a client is late, and your anxiety levels rise before the door even opens, a drink or a line can look like a switch you flick to steady your hands. I get it.

I remember a worker I’ll call J. Smart, funny, proud of her work. She told me she used to do two things before a booking: drink water and put music on. When the nights got longer, a third thing crept in. “It helped,” she said, then looked down at her hands. “Until it didn’t.” What changed for her wasn’t shame. It was a boundary. She stopped mixing, stopped letting clients pour her drinks “to relax,” started keeping snacks in her bag and ten minutes of silence between bookings. It wasn’t perfect. It was better. Better is underrated.

There are a few truths that sound boring but save lives. If you’re reading this at 2 a.m., take a breath and have some water. Don’t mix alcohol with downers—your breathing doesn’t care how much you “can handle.” If you’re on stimulants, heat and dehydration don’t negotiate; food and sleep aren’t luxuries. If a client brings substances or pushes you to drink, that’s a no. End it. No payment in gear. No “just one” to be polite. Your body is not part of the tip.

Clients, you’re part of this too. Show up clean and calm. Don’t bring drugs. Don’t ask. If the person in front of you looks unwell, pause the booking and be human first: water, air, a check-in. If it turns serious, call 000 and stay. You won’t regret helping someone breathe.

Shame is the accelerant. Stigma keeps people quiet, and quiet is where harm grows. If you’re a worker and you want to change something—less use, different use, no use—tell one safe person. One. A colleague, a peer service, a counsellor who actually listens. It’s easier to carry when someone else has a corner of it. And if you’re not ready to change yet, you can still make tonight safer than last week. Eat. Don’t double-dose. Let someone know where you are. Small things count.

I know this all sounds simple. Simple is what works. I’ve watched rooms go from wired to peaceful on the strength of a boundary and a glass of water. I’ve watched a client say, “No worries, let’s keep it sober,” and an entire night unclench. I’ve watched a worker laugh at herself, pocket the bottle, and say, “I’m better without it, aren’t I?” She was. You might be, too.

There’s another piece we don’t say out loud enough: dignity first. The fastest way to make harm worse is to treat people like problems. Sex workers aren’t punchlines or case studies; they’re parents, students, readers, daydreamers, gym members, bad singers in the car. The more we hold that in mind, the safer everyone gets—because asking for help stops feeling like stepping into a spotlight.

If you’re a manager or receptionist, your quiet choices matter. Don’t normalise “a drink to loosen up.” Back your staff if they refuse a booking that feels off. Build the kind of space where saying “no” isn’t drama, it’s just the rule. If you’re a friend, check in without prying: “You good? Need food or sleep?” That’s love in action.

And if tonight is hard and you’re thinking, “I don’t even know where to start,” pick one thing. One less drink on shift. One proper meal before work. One early night this week. One message to someone safe. Momentum starts small; it always has.

To be clear there is no judgement writing this. I’m here to say you matter more than the moment you’re in. If you’re well right now, I’m glad—stay gentle with the people who aren’t. If you’re struggling, there’s a version of your life where this gets lighter. I’ve seen people walk toward it. Slow steps count. Stumbles don’t erase them.

Be Safe. Be Kind. Keep Breathing … and if you need the reminder: you’re allowed to choose what keeps you alive.

Author: Master Yoda
For: Langtrees.com

TalkinSex Forum | Perth Escorts | Sydney Escorts | Melbourne Escorts | Brisbane Escorts | Darwin Escorts | Adelaide Escorts | Hobart Escorts | New Zealand Escorts