No one missed my frequent posts, it seemed. There was no groundswell of objection. I disappeared as though i had never existed. In fact this was one response:

“Bravo. Fuck chicks on this site. This is our domain. A guys forum who talk about these providers we fuck and we don’t need no feed back from any working girl commentating or putting her two cents in fuck that. I go on reviews on what other mongers are saying who gives a shit what a provider will say.”

Wow, that was angry!

It bothers me

At first the harsh language shocked and I will shamefully admit, wounded my feelings. I try to pretend I am emotionally vacuum packed with no feelings leaking out and nothing getting past the barrier to hurt me. I would never say this to people, but I am monumentally sensitive. In time , the narcissist in me let go of the stranglehold on my thoughts and I analyzed the posts by women and posts about those providers. Women’s comments did change the site. Men started writing to the women who had posted. “No one compares to you,” for one example. Men postured instead of sharing useful info for the next guy, especially those who shared their user names with providers. They wanted the women to keep liking them and hopefully like them more. I know how sad the rejection of my anonymous persona made me. They are just like me! I never imagined having feelings in common with men but my stereotypes were shown to be invalid. I thought I was going to teach about wrong stereotypes with my site. I did not anticipate learning about my plentiful prejudices.

I was once by a homeless drug addict who watched the prostitution scene in downtown Honolulu about men who seek male providers. He said men drive downtown (Honolulu) to pick up streetwalking mahus (men who dress as women, self idebtify as women, and are always referred to as “she” by everyone) for more than closeted homosexuality. Women make some men uncomfortable. They want the easy camaraderie men enjoy together. Plus, women seem mean, definitely to each other and sometimes men. Sure he paid for her services and her time but he can’t buy a personality and he cannot purchase feeling safe. The admin was right. That site is one of the last bastions of free sppech, no matter how un-politically correct. The United States is in an era of limited free public speech.

Just look at how in 2018 politically conservative Google employees had to publicly fight (fight!) In the news/social media to hold non-liberal opinions within the left wing Google culture. This is America, where to me, freedom of speech implies freedom from having to listen to anyone. And yet, I contradicted my cherished support of the First Amendment by discouraging men from saying things I did not like. I was as bad as book burners in the distant past who literally stopped the free flow of ideas with a match. Today, idiot moves like my 2017 commentary come in the form of online, often anonymous, shaming. I did not listen to philosopher Nietzsche: when fighting monsters take care not to become one.

I did the logical thing–I got my own platform (You are here!) where I can say what I want, uncensored. No one has to read my provider opinions. I once made the rhetorical statement: who wants to listen to a whore? Amazingly, people do want to listen to this whore. I had hoped for five readers and didn’t know how even that would happen. Next post I will tell you of the amazing success 8 months has brought to, where the ivy league meets the Honolulu streets.


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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