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~

  I have always wondered why I felt it easier to understand men better than women.  Communication with them typically comes with much more ease than it does with other women and I've always felt my behavioral and thought pattern better matched theirs than that of my own gender.  Not to say that I am not ultra feminine.  I'm am very proud of my girly presentation and I love being "the woman" around a man.  But, my desires and fundamental wiring resembles that of a man much more closely than that of the typical woman.  For instance, I've frequently wondered why procreating, family gatherings, and weekend stops at Pet Co have absolutely no appeal to me, while jet setting, being responsible only for myself and making boatloads of money over hush hush deals with powerful men in Prada is far more intriguing.  I'd say most women set their goals at getting married to the first man who will buy them a ring, followed by becoming a loving mother two a son and daughter, and one day, becoming a grandmother.  This is all fine and good, but not at all what I consider interesting.  My life aspirations have nothing to do with diapers.  I would prefer something much more along the lines of gaining international noteriety for my cunning application of keen calculation within my provocative, controversial and uncanny vocation.  This, in perhpas less frilly words, I believe is a lifestyle that appeals more to men.  Women, as much as I seek to better connect with them, are creatures that I tend to feel some disconnect with.  Perhaps this article from The Independent sheds some light on my overall condition.  Now, when my mother asks why I can't just settle down and be normal (after accusing me of being a misdirected, danger seeking adventuress) I can just blame it on nature.  Yes, mom, you're correct.  I like to take chances and gamble with my life because I am undeniably feuled by the high that uncertainty and instability bring me. There is great reward behind great risk and I am balls to the wall after it, regardless of the danger.  Oh yes, and I know it's not very lady like of me, but I really, really, really like sex.  Sorry, mom.  It's just my ... testosterone.

Risk Loving Women Hungry For Sex

While there are exceptions to all rules, I don't exactly think of femmes in finance and funding as being particularly sexy.  Nor do I think of most female entrepreneurs, gamblers, or say... race car drivers... as being insatiable sex scavengers.  Then again, I have only observation to base this off of.  I don't know many of this type personally and I could be very wrong.  Regardless, I do see the correlation between elevated testerosterone levels and the desire to take more risk.  I also see correlation between testerosterone and sex (provided that there is not so much testerosterone running through a woman that she developes masculine physical traits, as that is likely to make her insecure and feel less sexual), and I know the adrenaline rush one gets from sex (or the risks of it) can be the same as what one gets when performing a number of other risky activities.

I can't say that I think this article is exactly on target, or the sole answer to why women would like to take risks or enjoy sex, but I do find that it offers an interesting explanation to why some women may be more inclined to display behavior that is typically considered masculine.  I could certainly apply its theory to my own life.  It also makes me curious to check my own testosterone levels.

In the past several months, I've had conversations with Coconut and my dad about blood work (not related to sexual and annual womanly health check ups) which I always thought was an independent medical process that someone wanting to explore would have to hand over big bucks for.  But just the other day, I was told that blood work to test things like my glucose and iron levels, should actually be covered my my insurance and is something that I should easily be able to request.  This is something I was considering for other reasons, but this article gives me one more reason to look into it.  I'd be interested to see if I, a risk-driven sexual female, in fact hosts a higher level of testosterone than the typical woman.

I'll keep you updated on the results if I get the opportunity to check.  On that note, I'm off.  I think I'm due for some medical check ups ... a refill of birth control that I'm still unsure if I like, and some Ambien. This recent continent jumping is not good for a girls sleep pattern and babies are no good for a woman seeking jet-set sex and notoriety.

Raquel

Billionaires, babes, booze and books.  It’s not exactly a shocking combination, so why would Guy Laliberte be so sue happy now that a book has provided the public with information about his crazy, drug induced, star studded and hooker packed parties?  He threw these parties again and again.  Inviting "busloads of hookers" and packing his place with naughty celebrities and playful public figures, he wasn’t exactly discreet ... ever. There were no secrets about who was there and what the guests were doing.  Why is he pretending to be so surprised that someone put the information in print?  Guy, the partying, people pleasing Canadian is a once homeless, fire-breathing, street performer turned billionaire owner of the Cirque du Soleil.  Do you hear this description and think of a straight-laced man?  Neither do I.  I’m not sure why he thinks he ever had a clean and sparkly reputation or why he’s fighting to maintain this alleged reputation.

Dear Mr. Laliberte, you’re a Canadian vagabond circus performer turned bilionaire Forbes lister. While stranger things have happened, that's pretty unusual. You don't head a state,  a country, a religious movement or a monarchy.  You have stated before that you "do not believe in marriage",  so there is no pressure for you to be a "good family man".  You’re supposed to be crazy!  This “outing” of information that you never went to any previous length to protect is not going to suddenly ruin anything for you.  It’s only going to make you richer.  Allow yourself the liberty to be Guy Laliberte and embrace the lifestyle and reputation that comes with it.  And pleeease, next time you have one of these parties, invite me!  I have some lovely tricks of my own that I’m willing to share.

Sex, Drugs and Cirque du Soleil

Sex, Drugs and Acrobats

It's twisted like a prepubescent Chinese contortionist and I love it.

Raquel