A Delicate Issue"
of the week: Comes from a friend of Joe's.
We'll call him T. (Note how Joe protects his
friends.) T. was going out with this woman
for a little over a year and everything seemed
to be sailing along just fine. Although T.
did confide to me that she had a few sexual
issues, but other than that, it was pure bliss,
there was talk of tying the knot, blah, blah,
T. had felt his relationship was strong, because
it was built on the foundation of trust, and
he had no reason to believe that he should alter
his tact now. Yes, he had indeed been with a
hooker, but it was two years before he even
met Little Miss Muffett.
Then she pops the peneultimate question: "Have
you ever been with a hooker?"
But Miss Muffett wasted no time cutting right
to the metaphorical kick in the cajones, "Get
out you disgusting pig! I'm sick to my stomach
I was even with you....(Even though I made you
wear that funny looking body condom)...I could
never be with someone who was with a hooker."
T. wanted to discuss, but she would have no
part of it. (There's the door buddy, don't let
it hit you on the ass on the way out.)
He tried to call after D-Day, but she never
returned. That was the last T. ever heard from
her. (Cue Violin.)
So what does buddy/pal Joe do when he hears
all this? Why I send him over a hooker of course!
Hypothetical: If this is how a lot of women
would respond to the answer, then a lot of
you guys are in trouble and forewarned, honesty
might not always be the best policy.
And now there's several of you guys looking
proud as a peacock saying, "Not me. I'd never
pay for it." Well you know what, pal? We've
all paid for it before, it's just been under
another guise. Ever heard of wining and dining
someone? I'm wondering how much you spent
by the end of the evening? And more importantly,
was it worth it? And did you even get any
action other than the proverbial kiss goodnight?
I'm not talking about relationships here,
I'm talking about one thing, getting your
rocks off. And sometimes that's all we want,
right? And doesn't it sound simpler, if you
just do want sex, to pay someone who's an
expert at it? rather then go through all the
b.s. and game playing you'd have to do otherwise.
Let me tell you one thing: it's a helluva
lot easier getting rid of them afterwards.
In fact, you're on the clock buddy, and then
she's on to the next john. Like T. says, "The
beauty of a hooker is that you don't pay her
to have sex with you, you pay her to leave
afterwards." (Cymbal crash.)
And men aren't the only ones who have just
wanted to get off and get on with our lives.
No, I think a lot of us have been there-
Laying in bed with a partner after sex and
wondering: How the hell am I going to get
them out of here? (Pretty hard if you're married
to them. That is if you still even get lucky.)
Either you are successful at the boot or you're
into that excruciatingly painful area: Spending
the night together. And damn if you're going
to be sleeping on the wet spot. And it pisses
you off, because you don't really sleep anyway,
you doze in fifteen minutes intervals. You
keep tossing and turning, rolling over and
looking at the clock, getting elbowed in the
ribs while you grow more and more pissed off
with every fifteen minutes that dawdle by.
Goddamn it, when is the sun coming up? When
will this person be outta here and when can
I move on with my life...Alone!
Let's face it, courtesans have been around
for centuries for a reason: To take care of
our animal desire, period; although some of
you lonely guys do just want to cuddle with
them, don't you?
And do you really think that it's men that
are exploiting the hookers? Or are the hookers
exploiting the men? Ever been to a strip club??
It's all about using sex to get something.
In this case money. And if men are willing
to give it, and women are willing to take
it, then what's the problem, Miss Manners?
The contract should be honored, over, goodnight,
good-bye. But remember, like the multi-talented
Charlie Sheen, hookers can become as addictive
as your double-shot decaf light-on-the-foam
cappucinos. Therefore, think moderation my
horny friend. Moderation.