Whore: The John

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Last week, I was sitting downtown and looking back at all the faces that were looking at me, and I recognized them all. The guy nearing 70, dressed in dusty jeans and cowboy boots, and the guy with long hair and an overgrown gotee wearing peeling sneakers and a faded band tee. The college freshman with a chick on each arm because he’s chiseled like a Greek God and the coastal California transplant with sunkissed hair who never wears a shirt. I’ve seen the guy in the button up who usually travels with his wife and the one who sits at a table with five children and pretends not to look at other women in front of his. I’ve seen the newly divorced hottie who resolves his lingering disappointments by hitting the town a bit too often and solves his fear of new commitments by playing only where there are no strings. I’ve seen the doctor, the lawyer, the engineer, the construction worker, the hotel attendent, the gas station clerk, the retired cop. Ive seen men who have to budget to pay my fee and I’ve seen guys who can throw away that much money just because its on the floor and harder to pick up than sweep. I’ve seen, for either erotic massage or full service esorting, both of which are illegal forms of sex work, every single man among you.

One of you came once to visit my cabin, anticipating that our exhange would be a biased one. Because you are a Black man and I am a white woman in an industry where white women typically add, “No AA” to their advertisements, you assumed I would harbor some discrimination based on the color of your skin. I took the beating because hey, stereotypes, and skirted around your off putting comments about “many countries in Africa,” and, “isn’t it uncomfortable to be the prey?” because all things considered, your assumption was fair and was not meant as an attack to me. I treated you exactly the same as everyone else for my retort.

But the bias was yours, and I don’t mean against me because of my race. That would be a narrow statement which neglects the impact and importance of reality on your forgiveable perception. You had a bias against sex work, both the providers and the Johns, and absolutely against yourself.

You said, as I bounced my foot and leaned my torso attentively toward you from across the room, that to be involved in this industry, one must be broken. Knowing my history and the history of a few close clients, I said that I might agree, except that brokenness is too common to be the deciding factor.

Between your inquiry into who sees sex workers and the laughter of a friend who maintained that few men do, I’ve gathered that there is some confusion about who John is.

Ill finish this later, too. Brain is in idea-generating mode and not in detail mode. Be back soon.

Renee

Renee

Hey. It's Renee. Hope you're having a nice day. 

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