The Porn Star and the Nurse: Why I Trust Both

There are two sides of me that most people do not know how to hold at the same time.

One side has spent decades on camera. Under lights. In studios. Making people aroused. Performing desire. Showing what bodies can do when permission is present. I have played the sacred slut, the power top, the obedient sub, the loving older woman, the hungry stranger, the teacher who shows you how to make it last. That part of me is the porn star.

The other side studied anatomy. Changed dressings. Took blood pressure. Washed bodies in hospital beds. Watched people die. Learned how to soothe a trembling hand, how to read between words, how to sit with someone in pain and not flinch. That part of me is the nurse.

Some people want to elevate one and erase the other. Some want to say that Nina the porn star is the real me. Some want to say that Nina the nurse is my redemption. Some think those lives must live in different boxes. But they do not.

I am both. And they have always informed each other.

Porn taught me about the diversity of bodies. About how people carry shame in their skin. About how fragile we are when we take off our clothes and how brave it is to stay open anyway. It taught me about boundaries, about stamina, about joy. It taught me how to say what I like and how to respect what someone else needs. It showed me the truth about sex that no one teaches in school. Pleasure is not always pretty. Sometimes it is the most honest thing we have.

Nursing taught me how to stay calm when things fall apart. How to track breath and blood and the tiny signals of distress that most people miss. It taught me about systems. The biological ones that keep us alive, and the medical ones that often forget we are human. It taught me that touch is not always erotic, but it is always powerful. That care is sacred. That we need gentleness when we are most raw.

Both jobs required presence. Both required skill. Both required integrity.

I have seen what happens when sex is separated from care. When people are taught to perform without feeling. When we chase climax without safety. When we pursue kink without communication. When we treat our partners like objects, or our own bodies like machines. That is when harm happens. That is when people feel used, confused, or abandoned.

I have also seen what happens when care is stripped of erotic understanding. When providers cannot say the word vulva. When patients are not asked about pleasure. When survivors are told to get over it. When a man with prostate cancer is handed a catheter but not a conversation about how it will affect his intimacy. That is a kind of harm too.

We need both. We need people who understand arousal and anatomy. Fantasy and physiology. Desire and regulation. We need sex educators who have been in the room, who have felt what works and what does not. And we need caregivers who understand that sex is part of health, not separate from it.

I trust the porn star in me because she has been honest. She knows her body. She knows her voice. She knows what makes her freeze and what makes her melt. She knows how to say yes and how to stop.

I trust the nurse in me because she will never leave you in the dark. She will sit with you when you are scared. She will ask the hard questions. She will bring water. She will help you regulate. She will notice when your eyes go flat or your breath disappears. She will wait.

And when those two selves work together, something rare happens. Teaching becomes care. Eroticism becomes sacred. Presence becomes enough.

You do not have to be a nurse or a porn star to live like this. You just have to be willing to meet people with both curiosity and compassion. You have to be willing to hold power and tenderness in the same hand. You have to be willing to learn.

And you have to know this. There is no contradiction in being someone who craves pleasure and also tends wounds. That is not a conflict. That is the whole human experience.

With love,
Nina

Previous
Previous

Anal 101: A Gentle Invitation

Next
Next

Pleasure as Medicine: Yes, Literally