From Linda Lovelace's memoir...

I sent this excerpt to a friend whose last name is Lovelace, since all through school people would ask him if Linda Lovelace was his cousin (he also ended up working at the post office as a temporary thing, and then ended up working there a couple of years though he had a masters degree in other shit) - (this is from "Ordeal", p. 144) --

Prostitution, like any other occupation, becomes a matter of routines and rituals. There was always a bad moment or two at the beginning - a hooker can never know what lies on the other side of a closed door - but there was a steadily diminishing sense of horror about the rest of it.

It's hard for me to look back and think of myself as a hooker. But if you sort letters for a year-and-a-half in the post office, then you're a mailman. You do it, and you do it, and you do it; then you become it.

...