Monday, January 09, 2012


I love The Police, the rock group, not the guys in the blue uniforms (though I guess they aren't all bad its just that for the most part they can't sing). It is a clear sign that musical tastes have passed me by, the fact that I still cling to a rock band who's music is over 30 years old. Back in the day, when I was a young impressionable, lad, I listened to the Police A LOT.  The lyrics written by Sting, and the wall of sound produced by the band have had a long lasting effect upon me. I would have as many hours of tantric sex as I could manage with Sting, and would be proud to brag about it (providing I survived the experience).

Most of us know at least a few Police songs, and one of the most famous is Roxanne (partially thanks to Eddie Murphy and 48 Hrs). It is a song about falling in love with a prostitute (never a good idea) pure and simple. Sting was 'inspired' to write it by seeing the prostitutes 'working' outside his hotel in Paris in 1977. The name is stolen from the lead female character in Cyarno de Bergerac, and even though the band wasn't overly excited about the song at first, it has since gone on to become one of their all time greatest hits.

All of the above is background to my own little tale of romance gone horribly awry. Until the events that I am about to relate took place, I am fairly certain that I had never even seen a prostitute, and for certain never paid one, or fell in love with one (a certain lack of money, and good sense kept me from falling into that trap).  Even when I met my first prostitute I wasn't aware of it. It wasn't like I called some escort service after striking out at my local pub, or was I cruising the 'red light' district in hopes of a new, sordid, experience. Nope, the prostitute that found her way (briefly) into my life was an normal looking girl seated a few chairs down from me at a bar having a few drinks with a (female) friend of hers.

A certain lack of memory, and a desire not to give away too much information, will be the reason that I will gloss over exactly how I managed to strike up a conversation with her. Drunk me, according to some reports is much more of a talker, and rumor has it, is a bit of a charmer. It was clearly drunk me that worked up the courage to speak to her, 'charm' her, and eventually take her home. Drunk me is a fast mover it seems. Whatever charms drunk me possessed on that night worked like a charm, because I did take my Roxanne home, and enjoyed the charms she sold to other men for free.

She did not spring the 'oh by the way, I have sex for money' thing on me on that first fateful night, and perhaps that is why I never had to pay. I don't know if prostitutes are like drug dealers, and give you the first one for free to get you hooked or not, but I know I got the first, and every other time afterwards for free. Even when she did tell me about her prostitution thing, I didn't believe her. I mean who the hell thinks hey I am lying in bed next to a woman who has sex for money, and I am getting it for free?  I figured she was just yanking my chain (so to speak) about the prostitution thing, until she showed me solid, convincing proof (and no it wasn't some video).

Needless to say I was a bit shocked by this proof, but considering the sex was fantastic, and I was not having to pay for it, I kept seeing her. We had some interesting times, and some pretty odd conversations, and some really dirty sex in our time together, and I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was probably a little impressed with myself. After all, here was a very pretty, very young, very nubile woman that charged other men a fair chunk of change to bang her, banging me for free. Even going so far as to say that she 'liked me'. Take that for what's its worth, lucky me huh? I find a prostitute by accident in a bar, and get to have sex with her for free, and she starts to like me.

To her credit, she would never have sex with me on the same night she 'conducted other business' which was nice of her I guess. I never really got the protocol down for 'dating' a prostitute. I mean Hallmark does not make a card for this kind of situation, and trying to explain to your friends that the babe you've just introduced them to is a prostitute will get you some very odd looks. Looks of utter disbelief, and a lot of laughs, but when she herself would confirm my story, those looks changed really quickly. I guess some of my friends were disgusted by it all, but a couple began to show a new found respect for me. I guess getting a prostitute to have sex with you for free is some sort of an accomplishment, though I am pretty sure my mother would not be at all pleased.

The relationship, as it were, lasted only about 3 months, but those were 3 of the most interesting months I have lived in a while. Of course, I sort of figured, once I did in fact realize I was 'dating' a prostitute that it couldn't last, and I am only surprised that it lasted as long as it did.  I mean there isn't really a long term future in dating a prostitute is there? And eventually she is going to sort out the 'why am I fucking this guy for free' issue, and start to wonder what the hell is going on.

Recently, as a part of my job, I had to argue that a gentleman who is mentally ill, be committed to a mental institution for both his own safety and the safety of society. It wasn't a particularly difficult hearing as there were two doctors that both agreed that the gentleman in question needed serious mental help. However, one of his 'delusions' was that prostitutes were controlling his thoughts. It took all my sense of what is proper not to tell the court "Your honor, I used to know a prostitute, and I can tell you with all honesty that, at certain times, she most certainly controlled my thoughts, she even controlled  my actions on several occasion as well."  I doubt that my employers would have been amused, and I seriously doubt that the judge would have been too happy with me either. Besides, I figured that if that delusion was getting that poor bastard sent off to the funny farm, they might just decide to take me as well.

For my own Roxanne, where ever you may be, I can only hope that just like your name sake, you don't have to put on the red light tonight.


Anonymous said...

classy guy shagging pros.

Roxy (which is how i found this) said...

Wow how judgemental are you defining someone by their profession, and using it as a status symbol. Geez maybe she actually liked you. Luckily my boyfriend isn't a dick.

The Grand Inquisitor said...

Not judging at all, I actually liked her too, and think she liked me which makes me both happy and sad. not status symbol at all, just a new experience. sorry.