I met up with a very good friend of mine today. The kind you can say anything to. We have so much sympathy for each other, because we are so similar, that we never get competitive.
We swapped sex stories. We talked about prostitution and he gave me this books.
We both have the same blocks when it comes to prostitution.
We are afraid that the women are being forced, that someone is taking their profit, that they hate it, that they are underage, that they don’t feel comfortable around us. Etc. In the end we never do it.
But it’s out there, and it fascinates us. How do you live like that? Working as a prostitute? How humiliating is it to pay for it? Isn’t it the most glaring sign of one’s faillure as a man?
I’m looking forward to read this book.
I gave him a copy of ‘the suicide bunnies’ in return.
We have that in common to, we never feel like we are enough. We have to bring a gift, or something interesting, to compensate for nothing being enough.
Objectively I would say we are both quite talented, but that’s not how we feel.
It’s also why we can’t use prostitutes. The idea to lop-sidedly extract pleasure from an interaction is anathema to us.