I don’t do requests but this one I promised Jane.
November 4, 2010 § Leave a comment
Roxanne – The Police
A few years ago I had a relationship with a prostitute. Don’t jump to any wild conclusions after that sentence, I never paid her for sex or approached her in that context, in fact I was suspiciously innocent in the whole affair. Let me start from the beginning. As a younger gentleman I had wild illusions of grandeur when it came to my journalism, illusions that were entertained by the New York Times no less. Entertained being the key word there, I think they were trying to corner in on the wild writer market currently run by Rolling Stone. Either way, there were seven of us, and we were given 48 hours to find write an article on a person’s personal story in the city. Seven of the “Finest up and coming minds in Journalism.” Left from time square in what felt like a T.V show challenge, you should have seen the way the others ran like little rats away, god I hate some journalist, I mean really hate. There are some of them who are just dicks, don’t get me wrong some are artistic commentators on the world, but some are blood suckers and vultures and should be avoided at all costs, what do you know, I have been distracted.
So they ran away and I strolled gently because I thought I was the dogs bollocks. Me being me I wrote about what I knew so, far from soccer mums and charity drivers, I turned to the City’s seedy underbelly. I went to the place in New York that everyone pretends isn’t there. I was very worried that I would pick up an undercover cop and would have to pull the old “Oh no no no no! You see I’m a journalist! I don’t want your body and want your minds and its words.” But I was a big boy journalist, and risks are what makes this life fun. What gives this mess some grace unless it’s kicks man? The first one I talked to told me to fuck off the second she knew I was a journalist, the second on the claimed she couldn’t speak English and drew for some spotless Spanish, the third one was just right.
The name she originally gave me was Jane. I made it very clear from the off that I would be giving her $50 to go to a café for me for an hour, that we would sit down, conduct a short interview and then we would screw JOKE!, joke joke, obviously. We went round the corner to a all night diner place called MUD. We sat down on the retro seats opposite each other. She ordered black coffee, she told me she drank it to keep her on her toes. What happened next is hard to explain. I think the first thing you have to do to understand is remove the fact that you know that this girl is a prostitute. Which should have been a difficult thing to do, especially as it had to be the theme of our conversation. She was incredibly relaxed and composed, she would later tell me she was just happy that someone was talking to her. We talked for well near three hours at no extra charge. She was just charming. She wasn’t a drug addict or anything like that, well, I mean she liked a bit of coke, but she didn’t have a problem at that point, when I asked her why she was working she was she simply took a drag on her cigarette and followed it with “ I earn about $800 a night, how much do you get if you get your job at the times? Exactly.” I couldn’t argue with that, modern morals are passed declining and money is king.
We went to a bar and drank an awful lot of tequila, she told me that’s how she gets boys to like her, I told her that just wasn’t necessary. We went back to hers and slept in her bed, it’s hard to explain, but sex with an off duty prostitute is not something you want to do on the first night, I wanted to disassociate her from sex before bringing it back in. On top of that sometimes not having sex is more special.
I spent three weeks with her and didn’t turn in the article. A shame considering that it was a caffine fuelled rant about the death of morals, the lost initiative of the suspiciously innocent and the last of the hardcore of the blue blooded aristocrats, you would have loved it. A prosititution arctile in the New York times? What was I thinking?