Archive for the ‘prostituion’ Category

Shop till you pop.

I'll take one in each size

I’ve recently had the good fortune to find myself with a bit more discretionary cash. Thanks to the economic stimulus, business has been good. More customers, more cash. Thanks Obama!

So, what to do with a spare few hundred bucks? Like you need to ask.

This time around, I decided to venture away from my usual encounters. Find a new in well to dip my quill in, a new crankcase to dip my dipstick, a new scabbard for my sword. New pussy, I’m talking about trying to find new pussy. Sorry to be so vague.

But where to go, where to look? Well, let’s go shopping for pussy, shall we?

First stop: Eros.com. I have to say, overall, this is where I’m finding quality companionship. But, damn, they make it difficult for the consumer. I think that, in a nutshell, is the problem with this site. They don’t know who the consumer is. It’s a difficult site to slog through. Bad layout. Most websites, whether news pages, shopping sites or classified listings, the main body of the page is front and center. If there are ads, they’ll be on a sidebar alongside the main article. On Eros, it’s the other way around. Huge swaths of web page real estate are given to outside banner ads. When you open any page, the first thing you see, smack dab in the middle of the screen is huge banner ads… for other escort ad sites. WTF? In fact, what should be the primary focus, the escort ads, are all tiny thumbnails running in a sidebar along the left hand side of the page. For example, I’m looking for escorts in Los Angeles, I have to scroll through a menu of cities, which takes me to a block of text links. VIP escorts, All female escorts, Visiting escorts… and about a dozen and a half different categories. Fuck it, let’s just see what’s in All Escorts. Oh, look, huge banner ads that’ll take me to pay sites. That’s what I’m looking for. No wait, I’m looking for hookers, where are they? Those tiny thumbnails. And chances are, no matter what category you choose, VIP, Visiting, Redhead, Mature, Incall, GFE… you’ll see the same 5 or 6 ads listed first. I guess those are the agencies… errr, I mean escorts… that paid a premium for having their thumbnail listed at the top of every fucking sidebar on every fucking page. It all smells vaguely pimpy.

As for the categories, it doesn’t seem to make any difference what you’re looking for. It appears that escorts can self-categorize any damn way they want. So, I’ve found listings for girls in the “Full Figured” category who are 5’1″, 110 pounds and 32 bust. The first listing in the “Redhead” category is a blonde. Followed by 3 brunets. There are 18, 20, 23 year olds listed in the “Mature” category. The categories are meaningless. Just as bad, is that an escort can give herself any name she wants, which becomes the headline for her ad. So, instead of “Sally Escort”, you’ll get “Sally VIP XXX Escort 36DDD in Beverly Hills.” I guess if some girl decided to name herself “I Will Suck Your Dick For Money In Van Nuys” they’d list that, too. There doesn’t seem to be anyone actually looking at the ads they sell and checking for quality control. Also, the Search function doesn’t work. Oh, I mean it works, just that it doesn’t actually return results based on what you’re searching for. Search for “Amber”, you’ll get “Shania”. So, even if you go in looking for contact information on a specific provider, you may still just get whoever they’re pimping… errr… whoever paid more for priority placement.

Like I said, they don’t seem to know who their customers are. And let me be clear here, I’m not their customer. I’m the target audience their customers are trying to reach. Escorts are their customers. Escorts are the ones paying them for ad space, ads whose rates are presumably based on being able to deliver the target audience. But instead, they’re sending the target audience off-site to a pay-per-view porn site or adult dating scam site.

Then there’s That Mall. Hey, That Mall, 1990 called, they want their web site design back. Practically useless. There’s a few things on there that make me chuckle. On the sidebar menu, under escorts they list 3 categories. Female. Male. Asian. Wait, what…? What if you’re a female Asian? Which category would they put you in? And if they’re going to subdivide by race or ethnicity, why not African American or Latin? Or Greek. But I digress. Then there’s the claim that all ads are verified, that ALL advertisers are required to meet with them in person. There’s a few girls on there I can’t get to meet with me for cash, but they’re going to head down to the That Mall offices? Oh, and where is the That Mall office anyway? Their phone numbers are 323 area codes, so, they’re in Los Angeles. But they have escort ads for Chicago, Texas, Atlanta and Hawaii. Did all those Chicago girls (or Asians) really come down to the Los Angeles office to meet with them in person? The thing that really cracks me up about That Mall is their banner advertising. I’m not kidding. I wonder how this dental office, with their picture of a smiling mom and baby feels about their ad banner being right above hooker ads? I guess it would make more sense if they were oral surgeons.

I guess we can’t discuss the topic of searching hooker ads without touching on the Craigslist story. Since Craigslist decided that cutting & running was the better part of valor, much has been said about their censorship of adult services ads. Yes, prostitution will go on. Yes, it’s still possible to get hooker ads online. Yes, it was a cowardly move by Craigslist and a brazen attempt to legislate morality, pander to the anti-sex puritans and restrict free speech under the guise of ‘protecting the children.’ Interestingly, many people in the escort/“hobbyist” community came rushing to the defense of the departed Craigslist Adult sections. Many of those people had long abandoned Craigslist as the bargain basement of hooker ads. I’ve made disparaging comments about “Craigslist girls.” Yes, I know that many of today’s $1,000 hotties were yesterday’s $100 Craigslist girls. But the fact remains that Craigslist had become, for the most part, the entry level of hookers. And thus, the place where cheap bastards looking for $60 dollar quickies went trolling. Not much has changed since the demise of Craigslist hooker ads when it comes to finding an escort. The ads have relocated to other venues. What has changed, of course, is that a girl who was barely scraping by on cheap quickie blowjobs now has to fork over more cash for her ads. Where she may have been spending $10, $15, $20 now she’s spending $30, $50, $300. Soon, she’ll either have to raise her rates just to cover her ad expenses or suck a boatload more dick.

Long before the Craigslist shutdown, though, cheap bastards already had a place to go. Hell, this place even has a private ‘club’ specifically for Cheap Bastards. They like to pretend that it’s a ‘social networking’ site, that they just happen to have classified ads, and sure 9.5 out of 10 of those classified ads are for hookers. But really, they’re just a community. They’re just there to exchange recipes and play Farmville. Or Hookerville. The ads there are free. Sure, you can buy “points” to use for things like priority placement, but essentially free. And they eschew all of the obnoxious Craigslist-esque trappings, the wild punctuation, the random capitalization, the barely disguised sexual innuendo. Sure, you can buy “points” to use for things like adding glitter and sparkle to your ad, but that’s tOtaLLy DiFFrenT. This is where the guys who think that $100 is way to much to spend for pussy have open and unapologetic run of the place. Can you find quality companionship there? Of course. Are there pages and pages and pages of misogynist bullshit? Of course. It’s their raison d’etre. Fortunately, you can go directly to the classified section and skip the commentary, you don’t even have to sign up to read the ads. There is one curious, comical idiosyncrasy there. Many of the providers advertising there specifically, explicitly claim that they will only see site members with verifiable references from other member providers and only those above a certain ‘trust’ level. For their safety, of course. Or, you could just look up their ad on Backpage. One positive aspect of the Broke Bastards  Board is that since they don’t allow comments on ads anymore, you don’t have to put up with slogging through 50 comments by detractors when you look at an ad.

Which of course brings us to the place where not only do they allow comments by detractors on an escort’s ad, they often actively encourage it. The Erotic Review has long been the place to go for escort ads, reviews and “hobby” discussions. The site has been around for years, and they like to think of themselves as the gold standard for escort reviews. Even after the guy running the place got sent to jail for trying to have a hooker killed, TER keeps on going. The guys currently running things haven’t (yet), to my knowledge, tried to have any hookers killed. Stalked, harassed, run out of business, sure. But not, probably not, raped or killed. Advertising on the site is free, although TER is a membership site and they do charge somewhere in the neighborhood of $20 a month for membership in order to have full access to all the site’s features. So, you can place your ad for free, but if you want to be able to look up a prospective client, look up another escort to check references or exchange messages with someone to determine their credibility, you’ll have to pony up $20 a month (recurring). All this allows you the privilege to post your ad once a week. It also allows every asswipe with an anonymous screen name and a grudge to trash you in your own ad. Piss someone off? They will make sure you know it. I’ve seen escorts place ads only to have them devolve into pages-long rants by angry hobbyists. Wonder why you place an ad and get absolutely no response? Maybe it’s because the 12 year old girls… errr… the moderators… have re-posted your ad in the Men Only Board, the better to trash you in private. I’ve seen it happen. Or maybe you wonder why your latest client’s review hasn’t shown up. It could be because the local moderator has a bug up his double-wide ass about you and has decided not to approve new reviews. And there is no recourse. It’s a dictatorship, and not a very benign one at that. The knock against TER used to be that the guy in charge abused his position to terrorize escorts, extort sexual favors and divulge personal information about them. Not much has changed, except the new guys actually go to the parties they host.

The good news is that after an exhaustive search, I did finally find someone to spend my spare few hundred dollars on (thanks Obama!). A good time was had by all, the economy was stimulated and so was I. I’m glad to report that I do apparently still have a huge cock. Good to know, good to know. It took some doing, lots of homework, lots of searching, but in the end it paid off. Finding paid pussy is still possible, but it’s not exactly easy.

And maybe it shouldn’t be.

In other news… strippers

What's with the strippers? Where's the hookers?

What? What’s this? Isn’t this a blog about fucking hookers? Yeah, I know, it’s supposed to be all about hookers. Hell, it even says “Hooker” right up there in the title, don’t it? Stick with me a bit. I think there’s a lot of crossover.

The picture of the lovely ladies at the left of this column is from a news article published over at FOXNews.com. On it’s face, it’s a slightly amusing bit of human-interest. Y’know, the sort of thing Fox News does so well. What? Stop rolling your eyes at me!

Bikini Clad Strippers Take on Church in Ohio. Who doesn’t like a good turning-the-tables-on-the-establishment kinda story? The background to the story is fairly straightforward. A fire & brimstone fundamentalist preacher has been targeting the local strip club, staging protests and pickets by church members against the sin in their midst. The club owner says he’s met privately with the minister, seeking some sort of truce, to no avail. As a last resort, the strippers use the holy-rollers’ own tactics against them and stage their own protest in front of the church, carrying signs with scripture verses.

So other than dueling demonstrations, what makes this story interesting?

Strippers dressed in bikinis sunbathe in lawn chairs, their backs turned toward the gray clapboard church where men in ties and women in full-length skirts flock to Sunday morning services.

The strippers, fueled by Cheetos and nicotine, are protesting a fundamental Christian church whose Bible-brandishing congregants have picketed the club where they work. The dancers roll up with signs carrying messages adapted from Scripture, such as “Do unto others as you would have done unto you,” to counter church members who for four years have photographed license plates of patrons and asked them if their mothers and wives know their whereabouts.

fueled by Cheetos and nicotine…

In other words, fat. Just a bunch of fat bimbos who sit around drinking and smoking when they’re not being nasty whores who take off their clothes to tempt the otherwise good, God-fearing men of central Ohio. I know, I’m extrapolating, but I think it’s warranted. Why else would that particular turn of phrase be there? What does “fueled by Cheetos and nicotine” have to do with the story of the counter-protest? What does it add to the factual reporting? But it sure does paint a mental picture for the Fox News reader, doesn’t it? You can just picture those ugly fat strippers stuffing themselves with cheesy poofs and chain smoking. Which is in stark contrast to the description of the pious church goers, “men in ties and women in full-length skirts.” How virtuous.

But there’s more. As the ‘reporter’ so deftly points out to us, they’re old, too.

“…stage age 36 but really 42…”

And, of course, they lie about their age. Old, fat, chain-smoking liars. Someone who would lie, who would sell their morals for a few dollars, someone devoid of any socially redeeming qualities. But enough about Fox News…

I mentioned at the top that I thought there was some crossover from this story to the world of online escort message boards. When escorts on the boards are attacked by “hobbyists” (and they often are) it’s frequently, as in the case of these protesters, because they had the temerity to stand up for themselves, to defend themselves from those who hold themselves out to be morally superior. Whether it’s strippers in central Ohio, or hookers in L.A. these are sex workers. Sure, they’re of a different stripe, they work in related yet different arenas. But the constant remains, these are women who’s salable commodity is themselves. When your product, as it were, is you, every attack is a personal attack.
Go to any “hobbyist” message board, and you’ll likely see the same line of attack directed at some escort. She’s fat, she’s nasty, she’s got a big mouth. And the worst sin of all, she’s lying about her age.

The self righteous pastor of the church objecting to the local strip club is a classic hobbyist. He’s morally superior, he has the authority of his position on his side. Hell, his church isn’t even in the same neighborhood as the strip club, it’s miles away, yet he feels it’s his duty to give his unsolicited opinion about right & wrong. He’s been called by God Himself to destroy the livelihoods of these women, to conquer the sin of making a living. Personally of course, I wonder why God would task him with closing a ramshackle strip club instead of putting an end to hunger or war or disease. Instead he’s determined to eradicate the sin of… women being able to support themselves and feed their families.
But if the pastor is an archetypal “hobbyist”, the Fox “News” reporter almost certainly is an active participant. He knows the buttons to push. He knows exactly how to lash out to belittle and dehumanize these sex workers. He knows to go after their self esteem, their sense of self worth. He’s called a hooker a fat old whore on some message board somewhere.

It’s little wonder then, that message board warriors feel emboldened, feel that it’s acceptable to treat human beings as, well… less than. This is the message that’s being reinforced in the mainstream news media. It’s less surprising when one considers that the average message board “hobbyist” is a Fox News viewer. So when a ‘reporter’ uses cleverly crafted catchphrases, they can easily hear the dog whistle.

Hello, my name is Hooker Addict…

Really? You made her cum doing her doggy-style? GFE?

…and I’m, well, a hooker addict.
Well, no, not really an addict. I can quit fucking hookers anytime I want. I just do it to relieve stress. I’m just a social hooker fucker. Sure, I mostly do it in private, sure I hide it from my friends and family, sure I can never stick to ‘just one more strange pussy.’ But that doesn’t mean I have a problem.

Look, lots of guys get caught up into the whole “hobbyist” thang. Then they find themselves seeking more and more satisfaction. One hooker is never enough. Is it an addiction? I dunno, I’m just  a guy who likes to fuck hookers.

There are certainly a lot of elements of the whole “hobbyist” milieu that lend themselves to the addictive personality. I can see where it would be easy to fall into that trap. Easily accessible pussy, even if it’s paid-for pussy, has an undeniable appeal. Add to that the virtual affirmations you get from your fellow whoremongers, and it’s a slippery slope to a downward spiral. Or something.

Not too long ago, I wrote about the pack mentality prevalent among the “hobbyist” message boards. And I should know, I’m one of them. I wrapped up that commentary with a suggestion that some of my fellow whore fucking addicts may want to re-visit Step 9, a reference, of course, to the classic 12-Step programs. Meh. I write a lot of crap.

Special Delivery

Fan mail

I love getting comments from my readers, it lets me know what all y’all out there are thinking. You don’t always  agree with me, and that’s fine. You’re wrong, but that’s OK. Most comments I approve, some are clearly spam, and some are direct attacks that just go right into the trash. Generally, I welcome all comments from my readers. And even if I disagree, I’m usually amused, enlightened or entertained. Hell, I have one crazy-ass Bitch who hits my blog on a fairly regular basis to make wild hysterical comments. I’ve approved all of those. Then… then, there’s shit like this:

I opened up the big HookerAddict mailbag one day to find this waiting for me from some disgruntled fan calling himself  “Ball Smack” from Kansas, writing from what has every appearance of being a bogus e-mail address. My new correspondent Ballie takes personal exception to my attempts to denigrate the wonderful work being done by AA. Smackeroo writes:

“Wow. I shouldn’t reply to this thread, but I have to. I guess. Stop hating on everybody and go eat a vag or suck a dick or whatever your preference may be. No one cares. Your Bill Dubya campaign isn’t fooling anyone and twits like you will continue to ruin what he was striving for.

Please stop trying to ruin his mission because you feel let down.”

I.. well.. I don’t…

Step it up

Where to start, where to start.

“I shouldn’t reply to this thread. But I have to…” Isn’t that a bit like “I shouldn’t chug this Wild Turkey. But I guess I have to.”? You don’t have to. Free will and all that.

“Stop hating on everybody and go eat a vag or suck a dick…” May I direct you to Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves and Step 7: Humbly asked god to remove our shortcomings

I am not now, nor have I ever been a member or participant in any 12-Step recovery program. And I don’t feel let down. For the record, I don’t believe in them. I think they’re bullshit. I’m sure someone in the vastness of the Internets will pipe in with stories of how being a Friend of Bill W saved their lives, and I’m certain there are abundant success stories out there.  I know a lot of “hobbyists” who are, as well as friends and co-workers who are “Friends of Bill.” I still think it’s bullshit. Because I think that the core of the program is to exchange one addiction for another. You give up your addictions to booze, dope, gambling or pussy and replace them with addictions to god, meetings, validation and bad coffee.

If you’re a so-called “hobbyist” in so-called recovery, fucking act like you believe in your platitudes. Instead of blaming those dirty whores for your failings, think about humbly asking your god to remove your shortcomings. Instead of lashing out at hookers (or bloggers) maybe it’s time to once again make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves. And, having slipped from the path and hidden behind your cloak of Internet anonymity to bash, berate, degrade and vilify those hookers whom you’ve picked as targets for your vitriol, may I once again suggest you revisit Step 9.

P.S. I’ve approved “Ball Smack’s” comment.

How did I get here?

Well... how did I get here?

I’ve been struggling with an injury lately. How it happened isn’t really important. Maybe it was a sports injury, maybe it was work-related. Maybe I threw my back out trying to lift up my massive gut to reach my dick. Whatever, it’s not important. The point is, I was undergoing a bit of physical therapy for my fat/dick- related injury. And as my massage therapist Helga was working through my corpulence to get to the root of my injury, I found myself fantasizing about her working through my corpulence to get to my root.

Now, I haven’t been to an AMP in a long time. The so-called ‘massage parlor’ where the massage was just a pretense for the happy ending. The rub n’ tug joint. But that’s often the first entry into the “hobby” most guys have. There seems to be a progression. From strip club to massage parlors to escorts.

I spent a lot of time exploring strip clubs. I remember one stretch of highway in my hometown where there were about a half a dozen strip clubs of varying degrees of class and quality. I would start at one end of the road with the dark, dank dive bar; the one with the pool table and the lackluster stripper with the Harley-Davidson tattoo across her chest. Then I’d move on to the one with the strobe lights and the glittery swing on stage. I’d end up at the far end of the spectrum at the Showgirls-esque club with featured “acts.”

Yeah... it was just like that

True story: I saw a featured stripper there who had a whole ‘nautical’ act. She had props and costumes, all in a vague naval theme. Sailor cap, cutaway bellbottoms, anchors. Sexy anchors. She danced a set to songs like “Blue, Navy Blue” and “Sea Cruise.” Hot.

But eventually, as most guys do, I grew tired of the ‘look don’t touch’ aspect of the clubs and started looking for more.  My hometown had lingerie modeling joints. You’d pay your door fee, go into a small room, “get comfortable,” and a ‘model’ would pose in scanty lingerie. Of course, for an additional tip she would, y’know… do things. From there, I progressed to cruising the boulevard for streetwalkers, always more afraid of them than they were of me.

Fast forward to the internet age and here I am, a grizzled veteran of the online hooker review boards.

What I am is what I am.

So what would lead an otherwise happily married man with 3 kids, a dog and a fish, a happy home in the suburbs and a  minivan in the garage to go cruising for strippers and hookers?

Ask any “hobbyist” and you’ll hear a litany of excuses, usually centering around the failings of their wives. The conventional wisdom is that if they were getting it at home they wouldn’t need to look  for it on the street. Well, sure, it’s not their fault, it’s their wives. Look, way back when, as I was driving up and down the streets at midnight, picking up scrawny girls for quickie handjobs in my car, I had a freaky, sexy, willing girlfriend waiting at home for me. And when I say freaky, I mean choking, slapping, swinging freaky. She was totally hot, totally willing and totally available. Yet I was fascinated by the world of sex out there.

I’m no saint, never claimed to be. Nice guy? I try. I have to try. Being an asshole is effortless. I’ve been fucking hookers of all stripes for years, with no end in sight. And it’s not, never has been, because of a failing on the part of my partner. It’s me.

This is what those guys slapping each other on the back about banging hookers won’t admit. They like fucking hookers. They would be fucking hookers if they were single. They would be fucking hookers if they were married to sex kittens. They would be fucking hookers if they were married to other hookers. The guys who spend hour after hour after hour online looking for hookers, flirting with hookers, making dates with hookers and writing reviews of fucking hookers… yeah, those guys re only doing it because the cold, distant, harpies they’re married to won’t blow them anymore. Right?

I don’t —we don’t– pay for pussy because the wife won’t pay attention. That’s just another deflection. Another way of placing blame with someone else. Another way of absolving ourselves of responsibility for our own actions. Hey, it’s not my fault I pay to get my dick sucked, it’s yours! Well, guess what? That’s bullshit. It’s my dick, and it’s entirely up to me who I stick it in.

Yeah, there are miserable, shrewish, frigid wives. There are wives who don’t like sex. There are wives who are emasculating bitches. And it’s still your choice to seek out strange pussy. You don’t do it because of the wife, the kids, the job. You do it because you like pussy, all kinds of pussy. The key indicator is that most of us “hobbyists” don’t just quietly, discreetly see the occasional paid companion to while away an hour or two of shared intimacy. The hardcore “hobbyist” has made the flirting, bantering, and jockeying for ‘position’ just as important as the actual in-out. You don’t spend hours chatting with hookers online because your wife won’t suck your dick. You don’t write dozens of goddam reviews highlighting your sexual prowess with hookers because your wife is too busy with the kids. And y’know what? Maybe if you didn’t spend hours chatting with hookers online your wife might be more willing to suck your dick for free.

Choke me in the shallow water, before I get too deep.

Romance meets Finance.

Sucker

He was a millionaire property developer. She was a $500 an hour escort. Sure, he was married when they met on an Internet site devoted to setting up rich men with… well, with women looking for rich men. But those are just details. That was long before the lawyers got involved.

The story of millionaire Robert Brot and callgirl Lindsey DeLeon starts out, as so many of these stories do, with a simple pay-for-play arrangement. The newspapers now call it a Cinderella story gone wrong. Brot now alleges he gave her thousands of dollars so she could leave behind the sordid world of having sex for money. When she took his money and ran, he sued her to get the money back.

Now, I don’t know any of the people involved in this story. I don’t know any of the details, beyond what’s being reported in the news. And not knowing, I don’t really care. What I do know is this: the news refers to him as a “Prince Charming.” They call her a “conwoman.” The implication is clear. He gave and gave. She took and took. After all, he’s a married man who cheated on his wife with women he picked up on the Internet and paid tens of thousands of dollars. But she’s a dirty whore.

Hobbyists lending money to hookers is nothing new. Hookers taking the money and leaving the hobbyist high, dry and holding his own pud is nothing new.  There’s a fairly well known escort who comes in and out of L.A. from time to time who is known to have taken thousands of dollars from a client. When he complained that the money was given as an ‘advance’ against future services, she declared him to be a creepy stalker and announced that she was never fucking him and never giving the money back. Another guy posted on the Bargain Basement Board that he had been robbed by some hooker he trusted. Seems he gave her his credit card number, just so she could post a few Craigslist ads, and was surprised when she ran up hundreds of dollars in Home Shopping Channel merchandise on his card. There again, the subtext of the story was: generous, chivalrous gentleman/greedy, gold digging whore. Again, I don’t know those people personally, so it’s all just “he said/she said.” But the overriding sentiment is, don’t give money to hookers, they’ll just take the money and run. That is, after all, what whores do.

Of course, in many of these stories you gotta wonder why the guy is handing over cash, jewelry and credit to some random message board hooker. To hear them tell it, it’s purely out of the goodness of their wee little hearts, But scratch the surface (no need to go too deep, either) and you’ll see that it’s usually some sort of hedge against future nookie. The twisted logic seems to be, if they give this gal money when she needs it, she’ll give them sex. Yeah, they’re paying for a freebie.

But the story of Robert and Lindsey takes on a slightly different tone. According to him, he fell in love. The money wasn’t a down payment on future sexual services, but given freely  to the woman he loved to help her build a better life. He proposed marriage, he bought her a ring. Guys often fall in “love” with hookers they’re fucking. Hey, it can sometimes be difficult to separate feelings of intimacy from feelings of biology. To separate the feelings in your heart from the feelings in your groin. Guys who have been doing this for any length of time are always quick to admonish the newcomers, “don’t fall in love.” And that’s good advice, if only superficially. I don’t want to veer off here into the whole ‘should you ever date a hooker’ scenario; the ‘is it possible to fall in love with a hooker’ conundrum.

Yeah, you give money to a hooker, there’s a chance you’re gonna get taken. But that’s true of lending money to your shiftless brother-in-law, too. “Hobbyists”, it should come as no surprise, tend to treat hookers like… well, hookers. Money is manipulation. From the White Knight to the Captain Save-A-Ho, the motivation is the same: keep the hooker indebted. To you. But sometimes –sometimes– the hard luck story of the rent being due, the car broken down, the wolves at the door are real. And sometimes –sometimes– it behooves us as human beings to look beyond the occupation to the person. Treating escorts like real human women shouldn’t be an alien concept.

So, should you lend money to a hooker? Short answer is “no.” Should you lend money to a friend? Sure. But make sure you’ll still be friends when you don’t get your money back.

“You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.”

430 Reviews / 18 White List referrals

You walk into a dimly lit bar, not quite knowing what awaits you inside. What manner of creatures have been coaxed out from their lairs. Sure, you’ve lived on this planet all your life, you’ve seen some strange things, but nothing can prepare you for the motley collection of losers, freaks and bad skin.

The Hobby Party. The Meet & Greet. The Pinch & Grope.

If this is your first time attending a Meet & Greet, you may be unprepared for the array of socially awkward  misfits and wannabe pimps. Sure, if you’re an escort you’ve encountered these types on an almost daily basis, but it’s different when they’re all gathered in one place. Sometimes it’s not enough to flirt with hookers online. Sometimes you need to get up close and personal for all your inappropriate comments and inartful leering.

Just about a coupla weeks ago, I went to another “hobby” party. They pop up from time to time. It gives the party organizers an opportunity to present themselves as big movers n’ shakers in the world of whoring. I swear, these guys who put together these meet & greets see themselves as erudite bon vivants. In their minds, they’re not in a some bar surrounded by a bunch of hookers and johns handing out name tags and free drink coupons. They see themselves as the ultimate high society host.

The parties, whether its a cocktail hour or a luncheon, are often in some slightly seedy, slightly cheesy bar or Mexican restaurant. Sometimes a hotel meeting room, sometimes that local downtown broker’s watering hole. This particular one was part of the recent trend towards more ‘upscale’ doings. A trendy joint in a trendy part of town. Unfortunately, it was also in a part of town known for its gang activity. A lot of the hobbyists attending were a bit taken aback by all the police cars cruising the neighborhood. Specially in light of recent sting operations in other towns where cops have infiltrated a meet & greet. To try to counter that, the organizers have started instituting a cover charge for the guys. I guess they figure if you’re a cop you’re not gonna shell out $40 to join the party. Sure, that’ll work.

If you’ve spent any time at all on the escort discussion boards, you know that there’s a serious lack of tact and discretion and critical thinking skills. When you meet these guys in person you realize that they also have a sever lack of social skills. of course, that really shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. If these guys had skills, they wouldn’t be hobbyists. Oh, they might still be paying to fuck hookers. But they wouldn’t be “hobbyists.”

When I arrived at Mos Eisley,I decide to skip the valet parking (I’m pretty sure a lot of other guys did, too. A $40 door charge plus valet starts getting steep) so I park across the street at the grocery store. I pay my cover charge ($40!) and take a pass on the table with the name tags. Look, I ain’t wearing a name tag. Besides, I use a different handle on each of the several boards I belong to, so it’s either no tag or… well, my chest isn’t big enough for all those names.

Inside the dimly lit bar, the party is in full swing. That is to say, There’s a bunch of loud, inappropriately dressed gals circulating and a bunch of shy, awkward, overweight dudes in khakis sitting around like the chess club at the prom. True story: I once saw a guy at one of these parties, a guy who was a constant presence on the discussion boards, who would take every opportunity to comment on every single goddam topic of discussion and always–always–act like he’s the smartest guy in the room. This guy, in real life was so socially inept, that the girl he was with had to treat him like a 5 year old, showing him how to put things in his pocket so he’d have both hands free to hold his drink, wiping shrimp cocktail sauce off his chin. Had she not decided on a career in escorting, she could have been a kindergarten teacher.

Then there’s the other subset,the guys who are too cool for the room. The guy who makes sure everyone sees him drive up in his custom hot rod, or the guy years past his prime who makes a point of showing up fashionably late so everyone can see him arm in arm with the high-dollar gal. The guy who finds a strategically placed table and proceeds to hold court like Jabba the Hutt.

Being a gentleman is apparently unheard of. I guess most guys figure that having paid a hefty $40 door charge just to get in, they don’t need to be a gentleman and buy a drink for a lady. They don’t even need to be polite and have an actual conversation with an actual flesh and blood woman. And every girl there is there just for his amusement. Every girl is there to get felt up by sweaty guys in Hawaiian shirts and Dockers.

When I first got involved with the whole hobby culture, the meet n’ greets were a low key affair. Usually, one of the board bigwigs would get everyone together in the meeting room of some airport Ramada or some such. The thinking was that a “business lunch” would be an easy sell, a plausible excuse for the married guys to get away in the middle of the day. I thought it was a bit funny, naive and in its own way kinda charming that attendees were told to dress in business casual attire and tell anyone who asked that they were members of an Internet based business networking group. That thin veneer of respectability would be shattered as soon as the first girl showed up wearing something more appropriate for the bedroom than the boardroom. So a bunch of guys dressed like traveling plumbing salesmen gathered in a hotel with a bunch of hookers dressed like… well, hookers. Yep. Nothing suspicious there.

Now, the meet and/or greet is more likely to be an evening shindig. The casual hobbyist finds it harder to come up with an excuse to be out for the night. But the scantily clad girls draw less attention.

The message boards are an often anonymous way for hookers and johns to interact, and too often that anonymity is taken as a license for some nasty, ugly behavior. So you would think that when they step out from behind the keyboard and actually come face to face with those real people behind the screen names that there would be more civility. Well, you would think that if you’d never met a hobbyist.

Oh, and Han shot first.

Trust Me

Who do you trust?

Relationships are built on trust. Your kids trust you to teach them. Your friends trust you to be there for them. Your wife trusts you not to go around screwing hookers. Eh, what are ya gonna do?

The concept of “Trust” as applied to the provider/hobbyist milieu is a complicated one. Everyone has a certain level of trust when they knock on that hotel room door for the first time. Is she going to look like her pictures? I’m trusting she will. Is he going to arrest her? She’s trusting he won’t. Is she going to arrest me? Well, at that point, I don’t care what she looks like.

I was reminded of the importance trust recently. First, the whole impostor scandal reminded us all that it’s sometimes easy to get taken in by someone with a gift for fiction. Then there’s something I read on one of those “hobbyist” message boards masquerading as social networking sites.

This site has taken the ‘trust’ concept and escalated it to it’s most ridiculous extreme. In theory, it works like this: Guy sees girl. Everyone has sexy fun time, no one gets arrested (or worse), she goes home a few bucks in the black, he goes home and tries to explain to his wife where his paycheck went. But I digress.

After that pleasurable exchange, they can then each vouch for the other. She can let other providers know he’s trustworthy, he can brag to his online buddies about how many times he made her cum before he popped off for the third time while doing her doggy style. But I digress. So now he’s earned ‘trust.’ Simple. You scratch my back, I cum all over your back. But they couldn’t leave it at that. It’s become a completely different animal. Not content with tit-for-tat, they’ve turned the whole thing into some sort of perverted Dungeons & Dragons. There are Levels, points, arcane rules and algorithms. No longer is it a simple exchange, now you’re graded on karma, judgement, and a whole slew of picayune esoterica. It’s no longer enough to be a safe, clean, civilian guy with cash, now you have to be a Level 2 knight elf with FX points and good karma. It’s like World of Whorecraft.

Low Hangers

Two years ago, there was a serious crime committed. In the dark of a northwestern night, a man lay dead, shot in the back. Like something out of a pulp crime novel, a man’s life was taken, his children left fatherless, in a plot to profit from the property and life insurance policies. The plotters, murderers, sit behind bars. The victim’s estranged wife, mother to the son who witnessed his own father’s brutal murder, has been convicted. Her new lover stands accused as the manipulative mastermind of the murder-for-profit plot. If it weren’t so real, it could be a ripped-from-the-headlines TV movie of the week.

What makes that case relevant is the people involved in the plot. The estranged wife who pulled the trigger – five times- was a well established, well reviewed escort. The man who manipulated her, who brought her to the point where she willingly became a murderer, was… no, IS… a well established, highly trusted member-in-good-standing of that same hobbyist message board. He is to this day a highly trusted Level 4 (out of a possible 5) hobbyist. Sixty-five people on that site have given him their highest rating, and deemed him to be safe, trustworthy, responsible. A real fucking boy scout. Some of those ratings came after his arrest on various drug, weapons and murder charges. And what makes this all even worse is the continuing use of “trust” as currency. There is even now a thread on that board admonishing members to be careful who they assign ‘trust’ to. They say: you can’t be too careful, you could be vouching for a murderer. And yet they have, and continue to do so. A provider is vilified for vouching for a guy who turned out to be a rapist. But they vouch for a guy awaiting trial for his role in a murder. That guy they support and encourage, but a hooker who says something on the Internet that they disagree with they slander and vilify. A guy accused in a murder-for-profit plot they give money to bail out of jail. A hooker they don’t like they offer money to expose.

Trust is the basis of every relationship. And those of us who swim these pussy-filled waters are no different. As hobbyists, part of the allure of the message board is the sense of sharing and community, building friendships with like-minded people, letting them in on something we can’t talk to our families or co-workers about. And we trust them to keep those secrets safe because they have the same secret. I imagine (and not having a pussy in this race, it’s only conjecture on my part) that as a provider, part of the allure of the online communities is building friendships with others who are in the same position, someone who has walked a mile in your fuck-me shoes. And you know you can trust them, because they know, better than any trick, what it’s like to put yourself on the line like that. Which makes it all the worse when some hooker wannabe stabs you in the eye with a stiletto heel. The worst evil is the one we invite in.

And no, it’s not just crazy unstable hookers. It’s not female trouble. The guys are doing it to each other, too. Under the pretense of camaraderie, more and more hobbyist are looking for ways to screw the other guy. Jealousy rears its ugly head, even when the object of desire is a hooker. How dare she accept money to fuck that other guy? Doesn’t he know I pay to fuck her?

The backlash created by a poseur appropriating the persona of a sex worker has reached a peak of fury. And trust, again plays into it. People trusted her. People now feel that their trust has been betrayed. And now, someone is abusing the trust others placed in them by attempting to use it to terrorize those they feel responsible for the whole sordid affair. That some punter (and yes, I’m fairly certain it’s a guy) is willing to turn to borderline criminal acts to “expose” someone, and how he’s going about it, speaks more to his failings than anything else.

And that right there is one of the worst things we should take away from l’affaire d’jour. Trust is the basis of the hooker/john relationship. I’m trusting she’s not a cop or a rip-off or worse. She’s trusting he’s not gonna rip her off, arrest her, beat and rape her. That trust has been shattered. It’s been trampled by a faux ho, wannabe, lying impersonator. And it’s being further stomped by a small, petty, jealous person who blames others for his shortcomings. Someone who has more money than integrity.

Because if you can worm your way into the inner circles of this community only to use the information you glean from it to extract revenge for your someone having the audacity to point out that you’re a liar, then no one is safe.

This is a fun “hobby” for some. And yes, the essence of it is pleasure. I enjoy the hell out of this. But every one of those escorts I see is a real woman.

I welcome your comments.