"Hookers: A Delicate Issue"

with

Joe Lust

Story 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, blah.

Then she pops the peneultimate question: "Have you ever been with a hooker?"

Now, 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.

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.


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