Life, Love, and Hookers

The time is 0645.

I just spent the last ten hours with some friends of mine who had flown down from the US.

First we went to Cheers for alcohol, and then we spent a large amount of time looking for a place to drink, because Cheers closes down at 0200.

We ended up in a hook joint. Want something more specific? It was a whorehouse. A place of ladies of negotiable virtue. It was also a club, with a large dancefloor and techno music. But primarily it was a hook joint. You'd go there for a drink and a dance and a bed in the back. That's where we were.

And as according to the policy there, (or at least according to what I could see) all guests are to be escorted and accompanied by a hostess, our table was joined by one. Our table. Our table which had four guys and two women.

I have to say, the place had a lot of lovely young ladies. In various shapes and sizes to cater to every taste. From the tall and thin, to the stocky to the petite. All in various kinds of clothing. ranging from the short, to the tight jeans, to the semi-business suit that the woman with us was wearing.

The thing is, the woman with us reminded me way too much of the 'Softie.

It's been over a year since we broke up, and I have not seen her in a very long time. But this hooker reminds me of her She looks like her. She sounds like her. And she's sitting next to me. And she's sitting next to me in the same way that the 'Softie used to. Next to me and a little away from me, but with some form of physical contact. Watching me and my friends go crazy and do crazy shit. I am quite drunk.

My friends note her interest in me. Or, lets face it, interest in the little that's in my wallet. Nice guys - and girls - they are, they egg her on. This is going to be hilarity for everyone. And so she does hit on me. Makes it quite obvious that she is available if I have the cash.

But I have to refuse because she looks like the 'Softie. There was this massive temptation to talk to her. To just chat. To flirt. There was a temptation to take her up on the offer. There was a temptation to take her and fuck her like it was going out of style.

But I didn't. The power imbalance was way too wrong. Because there was also the temptation to take her in my arms and comfort her (as if she needed comforting) and say let me take you away from all this

She would have all the power and I would probably be just the dupe.

It doesn't have to be that way. After all, as far as I'm concerned prostitution is just a profession. She sells her body, I sell my mind, and as a friend of mine once said "we both whore out our dignity for cash."

There are cases where men have married pornstars. There are fairytales where men have married hookers. I have no problems with hitting on a woman and finding out she's a hooker. I don't have issues with marrying one or anything like that. But starting off at this point and getting into a relationship with her is a non-happening thing. If i ask her and she takes it professionally instead of personally, I'll end up blowing all my cash on someone who doesn't care about me. Not that I haven't done it before many times, but no one who didn't care about me went out of her way to make sure she gets every centavo I have (this maybe because I am seriously lacking in centavos). If she takes it personally, I'll always be worrying if she's with me, or with my full-of-cobwebs wallet. On the other hand, I would always be wondering if i was with her, or the 'Softie in my head. And she would be too.

So as we left, in memory of the 'Softie I left her a thumping tip. And I walked away.