Tag Archives: mr. right

Dickwad of the Week #3 – it’s a tie! And thoughts on sacred unions…

4 Sep

The Dickwad of the week Award is a tie this week!
Between people who don’t even live or work in the brothel.

It’s between this guy who lives near where I work who I met on the “outside”
and my ex boyfriend…

My ex I will see rarely.
The guy I met on the outside, who I will call Frank…
I don’t even know why he’s a dickwad…other than I think that anybody who has no car,
and who is trying to be social with a whore, who expects a ho to drive 45 minutes to an hour
to see him to MAYBE have sex, AND not get paid…that’s a presumptuous move that should only be attempted by the very rich or very charismatic, and Frank unfortunately possessed neither of those qualities.

Ho’s don’t wanna leave. They might miss out on a good trick – potential earnings.
And if you’re asking me to leave, that makes you the asshole, aka Dickwad of the Week.

My ex, on the other hand was mad that I was calling him to be
“social.” (Originally. That was my thought. Knowing I can get him into bed easily. Imma perv, I know.)

I discovered today, A friend of his on FACEBOOK deleted me, which I figure he woulda only deleted me
if he told him about my ho status.

“Did you tell Mason about my job?” I texted.
“Yes” he said.
“You’re a prick.”
I told him.
Once I used a caustic word like “prick” I felt better instantly.
All urges to chew him out via phone went away, since prick is such a strong word.

I got a paragraph of text though about how I’m full of drama,
and how I acted like I wanted to hang out.
But then call him a prick.
And he says he doesn’t have time for such texts
and that we should talk on the phone if it’s gonna be like that.

So I call him.
He tells me that I’m the asshole because I fell in love with Mr. Wrong,
and because I blatantly told him (prior to my breaking up with him)  that it was likely when I went on vacation with my buddies (who paid for me to go) that it was likely I would bone other dudes, and that somebody I met from work wanted to see me in real life, and I might take him up on the offer.

I told him this:
“I’m the most honest person you’ve ever met. You can’t help who you fall in love with.  I can’t help that I had to work with him [Mr. Wrong] and spent so much time with him. And I can’t help that I like to sleep with other people. When other girls lie to you in the future, and you get paranoid about what a girl MIGHT be doing, remember how it feels when a girl is honest with you instead, since you won’t ever meet a gal who is more honest with you than I was. I could have bullshitted you but I told you the entire truth because I would have felt guilty if I hadn’t, and because I respect you.”

Note: The real world difference is that, most normal men AND women want to be lied to. They want to feel like they are somebody’s “one and only.” Even if that’s a lie, and all their friends know it.

My Professional Sexologist Opinon: I think decades of couples lying to each other when perhaps we have been more liberal than that (in secret) for centuries is what has taken away from the sacred-ness of “holy matrimony.” TRUTH IS, holy matrimony is only effective for maybe 5% of the population. The rest of the population engages in various degrees of cheating:

Emotional cheating
Physical cheating
Thinking about having sex with your co-worker…

I see lots of couples who don’t seem to be in love, yet they stay together. Perhaps if they were more open accepting with each other about their desire to philander, and more public with their friends that “yes this is a choice we have made, to see other people on occasion.” – perhaps this would be the “New Age Holy Matrimony, for the facebook generation.”

I.e. I would love to know….does Mr. Wrong see other ladies regularly? Is this his habit that his partner blindly accepts because she knows he needs it, or do I have NO CHANCE of ever upgrading from “the other woman” status to “girlfriend status”?

Hard to say, but that’s my opinion on the matter.

BrothelBabe wants scientific answers! The 10 day fallout.

26 Aug

Every time I come here to work, about at day 10, plus or minus a few days, something happens which I call the “10 day fall-out.”
10 day fall-out
Call it homesickness, heartache, or a break down.
What I imagine is….your heart is a vessel for all these positive emotions.
Everything from your cat wanting to be held when you get home,
to the hand you hold with your forbidden lover, to your mother saying, “lets get lunch this week.”

All of your most recent memories have a 10 day holding time.

When the last drop of love drips out of your heart, like the last grain of sand
in an hourglass…something in you also runs out. Your body knows it, feels it, senses the loss, and doesn’t like it.

You’ve been physically cut off from all of the comforts of your other world back home, and when this moment of loss hits, all you can do is cry.

This time is strange as its the first time I have been back here not having an official boyfriend.
I HAD a boyfriend.
I HAD a ring. Well…he had it. Waiting to give it to me.
I didn’t want it.
I fell for somebody else – somebody forbidden.

Not intentionally either – I’m talking about the kind of love where you tripped, you fell hard, and there isn’t shit you can do about it. The kind where you say to yourself, “Really, heart? Are you sure?! I think you might have lost your mind.”

Knowing my heart no longer wanted to be with Mr. Sensible…I ended things with him some weeks ago, in favor of the untested waters of Mr. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

My boyfriend and I had a very different routine than this time’s 10 day Fall-Out.
Day 10 was when we would fight, and I’d want to break up.

This time all I could do was cry.
Because I miss everything that’s right,
but mostly I miss Mr. Wrong.

I wish I knew the science of “Day 10.” Alpha female, biological chemical warfare, explained. Maybe my ovaries sense the loss. Maybe after 10 days of a night shift, my dopamine levels are low, and the crying is due to a lack of natural sunlight. Its certain that exercise alone doesn’t fix it. No amount of treadmill running and pole dancing is a suitable cure.

Having this much free time working the night shift allows your brain the opportunity to get a little too imaginative. Your head spins around all the magical “what-ifs”.

What IF Mr. Wrong was suddenly available. What IF Mr. Wrong knew how I felt.
I don’t know that he knows. There’s plenty to dig up. We have facebook, after all…where I’ve left plenty of pieces making it easy for any love detective to put together.

Talking with my genius writer friend online, he said that I should tell Mr. Wrong how I feel. I type out a practice letter, as if writing to Mr. Wrong. My friend revised it. It became brilliance and simplicity, all in one.

I took that letter and re-fashioned it to my liking in an email.

Then I got reasonable, and asked myself questions.

What is the result of a whore saying “I want to be with you”?
You can’t really be with a girl while she lives in a brothel.
I’m here to take care of my life. Relationships seem imaginary.
Mr. Wrong is just as broke as I am so saying “lets run off and be together!”
is the biggest joke imaginable.

Unlike other women, I don’t seek to possess or own any man.
No man can truly call me “his” right now, and knowing somebody is the keeper of my heart would not change the reality of my situation.

That email? I saved it, and it will never be sent.
I have too much pride to be anything other than realistic.

Instead in my moment of longing, all I could do was text Mr. Wrong and say,
“How’s the weather back home? I’m missing it.”
As if to say, “I’m missing you.”
His response?
“It’s hot here too.”