People say the strangest things about hookers. Here’s an example.


Recently, I was reading a popular adult services web site which posts reviews about providers. The reviews are supposed to be from clients and I think they usually are.  Of course you never know if a good review is from someone who really likes a girl he has never even met but wants to give her some good press based on his fantasies. Or maybe a bad review was written by someone with an ax to grind (ironically, I had problems with people I would not engage intimately.  They did not have enough money.  I knew that because there is not enough money.  But I digress).  I find the site fascinating, not just because it appeals to the egomaniac in me, although it is a terrifying and wonderful thing to see your name in print, well sort of.  Not the same as having your name on that banner of lights in midtown Manhattan because you are the star of the biggest show on Broadway, but it is still something.  I find it fascinating, for one thing, because I can find out what people want so I can give it to them just that way.  Imagine my surprise when i read a comment from the Administrator, I will call him B2, that said something like, all the working girls hate this site and they don’t want the guys to know about it so the guys can stay ignorant and they can control the men.  Seriously?  I have had the good fortune of being a part of several minority groups that often have characteristics ascribed to the group that were not true of me.  So I was lucky to see that stereotypes weren’t necessarily true because they weren’t true of me.  Something in addition to reality had to be at work to create these impressions.  Hearing that “this” is what “they” think/do/like/etc. and knowing I couldn’t be the only exception, the only one different from the rest of “them” forced me to look deeper to see where emotion comes into play.  For one thing, I have never been asked my opinion on controlling men through ignorance.  Not one question.  Nor have I ever found myself to be part of a cohesive group that could take organized action to perpetuate this ignorance.  Whenever I mentioned the site to other working girls their reactions were always something like, “they talk about me?” or “they took a picture of me when I was walking downtown and posted it?  They can do that?  How do I find it?”  The women were just like me–self involved and no mention was ever made about what “we” must do to stop “them.” The academic in me wonders what sources this administrator used to validate his credo that there is a sub rosa battle of the sexes and this site was a battlefield.  Hmm, now that last sentence needs exploring.  But for now I will end with–where does he get this embittered stuff?  Major mommy issues? Care to comment? By the way, if you’ve been following me I want to share with you that I think Little Blue/Astro Youth is the administrator B2 or has the guy’s ear.  Ciao for now!

Image result for images of sexy women plotting cartoon


Published by X-Streetwalker Turned Sex Talker

Caroleena used to be a drug addicted hooker on streets of downtown Honolulu in the early years of the 21st century. She was not the only learned streetwalker among the sex worker addicts. This group would have been a liberal college admissions officer's dream of diversity seeing as how they represented such a wide range of ages, races, family types, locations of origin, education levels, and gender identities. The two constants were trauma and dependency. Everyone out there had experienced life altering trauma which spurred them to seek refuge in drugs. Addiction was the unexpected phenomenon that kept them stuck in the dope. This downtown area was different from other drug saturated areas of America in one important way. The U.S. is the most violent country in the world, but in this corner of the nation there were no street gangs, no gun violence. You wouldn't get shot but you were probably going to be beaten up and robbed at some point. Interpersonal violence between intimate partners, friends, and family members was viewed as a natural part of being close to people. "Domestics" was something an individual brought upon herself or himself by causing problems in an interpersonal relationship. Caroleena, the perennial pariah even among society's rejects, had no intimate associates who might harm her. Prostitution was not as risky on Oahu as it was most everywhere else because the island was just too small. Everyone was somehow connected to everyone else with only something like two degrees of separation. You commit a crime, someone will know who you are and someone else will know how to find you. Hookers rarely got killed. Honolulu's relative safety allowed Caroleena over 10 years of street longevity until the scene ended when authorities started arresting men for allegedly soliciting undercover police for sex and posting their pictures on the evening news. tells Caroleena's adventures during her decade of addiction and its consequences--homelessness, prostitution, drug dealing, incarceration, family destruction, the list goes on. Every story relates events Caroleena experienced, witnessed, or imagined. The tale of this outcast is skillfully and paradoxically told in the language of the elite. The wording of the posts is itself a testimony to the wide grip that addiction has on all levels of society, even impacting the privileged who were previously thought to be immune to the troubles of the lower class. During these days of opiate addiction maybe she can answer some questions and present applicable solutions. If not, you are still in for a hell of a good read.

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