Two Misconceptions–one about men who rape, the other about men who hire hookers


Every time I start to tell you about some truth I learned, about how foolish I used to be, I pause and wonder if I will look back at today and shake my head at my stupidity. I just want to let you know I am not holding myself out as an infallible expert but representing what seems right to me at this time. Anyway, when it came to rape and prostitution, I thought the males who engaged in such acts were desperate sorts. My ideas were formed by statements made by men denying their involvement because:

I don’t have to rape anyone. I can get whoever I want.

Rape myth

I learned this statement was not true. Men who rape are not people who would rather get consenting partners but are stuck forcing themselves on women because no one will have them. I found out for myself this was a myth when I defended myself from rapists. I was inspired by the phrase “you can’t rape the willing,” which is closely related to the misogynistic statement “when rape is inevitable lay back and enjoy it.” I took the words in a different way. What if I were to get willing. Suppose I went into what I call full crazy mode and agreed happily, eagerly, demandingly. Would he be able to go through with it. No. Men who rape quite literally cannot rape the willing. I learned in foster care that if someone wants to hurt me, never show pain or they will keep hurting me because my pain rewards them. They will keep at it like experimental rats pressing the cocaine distribution button until they collapse. If you show no pain and no fear, you are just no fun.

I don’t need to pay women for sex. I can get anyone I want.

Prostitution myth

In my experience the #1 reason men want a hooker is they want sex and they don’t want to go through any changes to get it, nor do they want to have any obligations as a consequence of having it. Prostitution is like the fast food of sex, and I mean going through the drive-thru not taking the time to go in. Fine dining is wonderful, but there is waiting involved, talking, listening, getting through the meal so you can do what you really want to do. “Men don’t pay women for sex. We pay women to leave after sex,” said one male reader. I used to be amazed at how little men want to listen to women, and how often they actually ignore women. “I don’t really listen. I just give five “yes-es” and a “no” and she is happy I answered,” said a guy who actually listened to me more than he would have cared to admit. But he didn’t have to listen for all that long and challenge his endurance. He was free to leave as soon as the deed was done. What might surprise some is that I was as glad to see him go as he was to be gone. It was all about let’s get to it and through it.


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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