Sex & Journalism

“ I’ve had hookers and loved them.  Lot’s of them.  If I wanted another hooker I’d know where to get one, and cheap. ”

“ That’s too funny. ”

(Not really.)

“ I don’t know who you are or what you do. ”

 “Okay.”

 (Good!)

 “ And whatever it is you do, I don’t judge.  But I’m not looking for just another hooker. ”

 (Good thing I’m not just another hooker…)

 “ Of course you’re not.  You need chemistry.  You need something that’s real.  You don’t want to feel like you’re a chore.  There should be a genuine bond with someone you aren’t embarrassed to take out.  You want conversation and connection.  You can get sex anywhere.  It’s the whole package you’re looking for. ”

 “ If there’s no chemistry, it’s not for me. ”

 “ Of course not.  And chemistry doesn’t just come from sex. ”

I’ve had this conversation time and time again.  It’s so well versed, I can say it in my sleep.  I’ve been saying it like it’s my first time saying it every time I’ve said it for the past 5 years.  I say it with enthusiasm.  I say it like I’m excited that he feels the exact way I feel.  I say it as if it’s the most magical moment,  like finally,  finally,  I have met someone who is looking for the same thing I’m looking for.  I genuinely, sincerely connect with this brilliant man,  who I’ve been waiting for all my adult life.  Finally,  someone who “gets me” !

I say a lot of things I don’t mean.  I’m an honest person, and having to pretend is not a fun game to me, but it’s the pretending that pays my tuition and the pretending that keeps me dressed.  It’s the pretending that keeps me fed.  It’s the pretending that keeps me well traveled.  It’s the pretending that gives me material that I hope to write about one day so that I no longer have to pretend.  So, I swallow my pride and pretend.  I try to convince myself that this is a solid character strengthening exercise that will benefit me in the long run.  I try not to think about the men I really like who aren’t there.

“ I don’t want a client and I don’t have a set rate because I don’t want to feel like a hooker.  That’s not for me.  No man should ever be work to me.  If I meet a man and he feels like a chore, I’m in the wrong place. I’m not interested in that.  I need something more  - something I can feel good about. ”

“ That’s exactly what I’m looking for.  “

( I know. That’s why I said it. )

“Perfect. We should meet. ”

We meet.

“ You’re gorgeous. ”

“ I’m glad you approve. ”

“ You’re really nice. ”

( You're only saying that because I haven't thrown any dishes at you yet. )

“ I do think we get along well. ”

“ You’re wife material. ”

“ But sexier, more honest, and a lot less drama. ”

( Just in case he wasn’t sold already. )

“ What do you say we skip the polite introductions and just get to the intimate part?  I have cash for you. ”

He said he didn’t want a hooker. In actuality, he just wanted to believe he didn’t want a hooker. Of course he wanted a hooker! He just didn’t realize that they aren’t all sleazy idiots clad in fishnets and thick Eastern European accents.

“ Well, that’s not what I had in mind, but with you that might be exciting.  I think we get along well and that we're going to have a lot of chemistry.  We can skip polite.  I think that’s kind of sexy. ”

( Lie. )

Is he a nice guy?  Sure.  But chemistry?  No.  And that’s fine, because he doesn’t really want chemistry.  He wants an illusion.  He wants to believe that I am so overwhelmed with my attraction to him that I can’t help but drop my panties and take him before we even know if the names we are giving each other are real or not.  He wants to believe that there is nothing else in the world I would rather be doing than looking into his eyes while my lips are wraped around his most treasured and manly possessions.  He is fascinating to himself,  and he wants to believe that I am equally as fascinated with him.  He wants to believe that the stack of 100’s he’s given me isn’t for the sex,  or to make up for that fact that I don’t really want to be there,  but because he is just incredibly generous and really wants to help a friend out.  The money, of course,  has nothing to do with the sex.  It’s not like I’m a hooker,  after all.  And he certainly isn’t the kind of man who would have to pay for it.  The money is there as a sign of his copious ability to provide and as a sign of his appreciation for our incredible chemistry.

I have had chemistry with men who have given me money.  But it is a rare and precious thing.

This time,  like most,  I am telling stories and I am smiling a big,  “honest”  smile because it is harder to detect a lie when it is covered with the kind of smile that makes the liars eyes crinkle.

He’s nice enough and I keep reminding myself that I am fortunate for this opportunity for so many reasons, one being that it’s moments like these that make real sex with men I really like all that much better.

He doesn’t want a hooker.  He doesn’t get a hooker.  He gets an illusionist;  a pleasing pretender who whispers little lovely lies into his eager ears all the while daydreaming about the time in her life will she will be able to say these things and mean them to someone who won’t run away.

Raquel~