Prostitutes and the service they provide are important to me to a certain degree. I think it has to some degree to do with my lack of confidence, but more with who I am and where I live. Canadian and North American women are, well they are looking for something in return much of the time, it appears to me.
The majority of the time, I don't need intercourse. I wouldn't refuse, but hand holding or just talking is great. Some of the time though, I need all hands on deck orgy sex. Anal, DP, sweat drippin' down my ball sex. I can settle for normal sex, I can give up perverted, circus sex. But noooo, they ain't looking for love, they looking for Mr. Perfection. It's a little more complicated but I think that's the essence.
I do feel bad for any one involved in prostitution. I truly think that it is demeaning to all parties. Many women will never recover. I find it hard to visit a prostitute until I have lost my senses to lust. It's not the greatest. The fear of disease and violence, of being secretly video taped and sold as the B-side to the celebrity sex idiot of the week, or seeing someone I know : Hi John. Oh, hey there Jon! It is a waste of money. I feel only disgust, and shame and pity. I grudge some women the easy money they make and then think of the trade: their souls, their womanhood for this. I know it is not that stark. I have truly connected with some women, but it's so fake, so wrong. I feel protective about some of these women, even though I may never see them again. Creep after creep, except I guess all the creeps think they are the only man who's got it bad, who isn't the creep, who's doing it for the last time, who gargles after every encounter, feels remote and disconnected and alone and believes he will never be wanted, or ever want anyone really; because he can see through their skin, their lives ticking away, his own wasted life, his own wasting life, his every next mistake. His every final sin.