Don’t regard this post so much as a confession but instead see it as a clarification.
I do not believe in prostitution. But wrote playfully (or so intended) in my last post, ‘Big Johnny’ – filed under ‘An Expat in Mexico’ – to give highlight to the swashbuckling 18th Century; to which I unfortunately missed out due to the unfortunate circumstances of a later day birth.
Be that as it may, I will truthfully say that I have visited a brothel or two in my time; but in my younger, wilder years. And believe or or not, it wasn’t for the sex but for several other reasons that might be worth noting.
First, we were all drunk and having a great time and a brothel just seemed like the kind of place to wrap it all up. Who doesn’t like droves of naked women falling all over you? And I was with comrades and whoring just seemed the comradely thing to do at the time. I did mention we were drunk, right?
And last, we were in some pretty damned exotic cities that had some extremely beautiful high-class whores.
But that was a different time and a different place.
Charlie Sheen never had to pay for sex. He was too famous. So why he did on such a regular basis I’ll never know. Forbidden delights? Who knows?
Me, I’ve never had to pay for sex either. There have been way too many willing lasses in my life to have had to ever visit a whorehouse. Sex for me way back when was almost as simple as shaking hands. I had the luck of a rock star for more years than I care to remember. Not because I had rock star good looks or fame, but because seducing women was just so damn much fun. I still am so pussy tranced that the very thought of panties gives my wiener a twitch. Young panties, slightly stained and my mind goes into knots.
Men are easy, we are assholes for the mere scent of a young tight fertile vagina. Men are assholes one and all when it come to women and cars.
But I have acquired a positional statement on women of late that I think bares repeating. First, it’s worth noting that I’ve had the opportunity to remarry six times in the past 26 years. That’s to six different women, in six different times since my divorce back in ’91.
But I didn’t remarry although I came pretty damn close one time after a hot and heavy two year relationship with a beautiful and intelligent Chinese-Burmese woman who was 12 years my junior. She was funny as hell too, not to mention one great cook.
But it’s been my recent experience – since arriving in Mexico – that there are some very good reasons why I always got gun shy at the last moment and could never pull the trigger on another marriage.
First, I believe we are only given one great opportunity at one great love in our lives. And I had that woman with me from ’76 – ’91. We didn’t get married until ’81 but she was the one.
I think once men and women get into their 30’s (we were only 21 when we fell in love) that marriage becomes a much more pragmatic affair and love, while it might be there, takes a backseat to the realities of the future.
A woman by the age of 30-35 begins to subconsciously understand two things: Her biological clock is ticking and also that her choice for a mate isn’t so much driven by attraction or love as it is by his ability to provide.
Men by that same age still are driven by the laws of attraction. Why should he date/sleep with/marry a 35 year old woman if he is still capable of dating 20-something year old women?
I think I figured this out on some level when I started dating again (dating, that’s not the right word – having sex again) sometime after my divorce.
I owned my own house. Came and went as I pleased. Did whatever I wanted. Traveled a lot. Many of those things that I have done since my divorce would have been impossible should I have chosen to marry any one of those six women.
I am a free man.
But the future price I will pay for my freedom will be small. Yes, I will lack companionship but that isn’t so costly because I am pretty much of an introvert. I love spending time in no one’s company but my own because I have a very rich internal life. Thinking and making stuff takes up a big part of my day.
The other price to pay is lack of sex. This isn’t so burdensome either as my libido is no longer one of the driving forces in my life.
PS – Ironically one of my biggest reasons for living these days (and artfully, I might add) is there are still several more people I want to outlive. That might sound like a repugnant, bitter and mean-spirited thing to say but I write this laughing.
I out did ’em, now I just want to outlive the bastards.