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My Girlfriend is a Prostitute - Peter Malakoff

For many years, I had a girlfriend who was a prostitute.

She was a tall, beautiful dancer and a high class sex-worker.

I met her as a client and we fell in love.


When I told her that I was attracted to her in 'real life,' she told me that she liked me as well,

but if I wanted to date her that we would not have sex for several months.

I agreed to this; it was a wonderful time.


Imagine foreplay going on for several months, after you had made love just once.

It brought us much closer together. This poem is about a real incident.

I always love her and wish her well.

Picasso/ Odalisque

My Girlfriend is a Prostitute

Today, we forgot about the time

kissing and hugging,

so glad to see each other

after a long separation

Her client rang the bell downstairs

She had to ring a buzzer to let him in

She was embarrassed and ashamed

worried that I would be offended, disgusted, upset

I quickly left her apartment

walking down the stairs of the three floor walk-up

I could hear him coming

this man who was going to take her clothes off

admire her beautiful body

look her in the eyes

touch her all over

kiss her

embrace her and fuck her

I saw him rolling her over

her beautiful ass up in the air

I saw him touch her breasts

lightly on the nipples

and squeeze them in the heat of his desire

I saw her thinking of me

her legs spread

feeling strange and shamed

at this sudden merging of worlds

I saw him come up the stairs

young, handsome, well-dressed

I liked his face

this man who came to fuck my girlfriend

It was a face full of goodness and feeling

I liked him

I hoped she would like him

I hoped she would make him glad he had come to her

And I felt strange at this

as if I was betraying her

as if I was betraying myself

as if I had no feelings

as if I was no good

And I knew this was what she was feeling, too

My girlfriend is a prostitute

She is such a lovely woman

Many times she has told me how happy men are to see her

how thankful, how grateful

Once she told me how ten men had her

all together

a long time ago

when she first started

and knew no limits


I am bothered by all this

in a way, I can't quite understand

It's not as if I am a virgin

I met her as a client

I'm not quite sure what it is that troubles me

Sometimes I think it's the remains of the Puritan culture

the collective ignorance of a sex-negative inheritance

Sometimes I think

"What's wrong with me, that I have a girlfriend who's a prostitute?"

Sometimes I think it's because I want to protect her

from all those men

Especially if I imagine some big, gross, fat, unfeeling businessman​

And then


I am amazed that she can do what she does

That she can be so physically close to so many

I even admire this quality

Just as I admire a nurse who cares for a sick, ailing man

Who helps him urinate and defecate and cleans him

and touches him all over with her compassion

And then I admire her

because I know her heart and it is good


She is my virgin whore

I treasure her greatly

I want to tell her to give that young man a great fuck

I want to tell her I love her and even revere her

I want to tell her she is a great being

a Dakini, a Goddess

I want to tell her I am scared of what she is doing

I want to tell her I have fallen

without a handhold of morality

without belief or consolation

I want to tell her I am naked in my feeling

I want to tell her I am just like her

D.H. Lawrence wrote:

"The one woman who never gives herself away

is the free woman who always gives herself up."

I love her

This One

Who has given herself up to man . . .

Phyrne before the Jury/ Jean Leon Gerome/1861


Phryne was perhaps the most prominent courtesan of ancient Greece.


"On the day of the Eleusinian festivals; twenty thousand people had come from all the countries of Greece and were assembled on the beach when Phryne advanced towards the waves: she took off her robe, undid her girdle, removed her undergarments, unrolled her hair and stepped into the sea."

Many thought this to be profane and profaning the Eleusinian mysteries was a capital offense considered more serious than murder. Phryne was brought up on charges; and, "it became apparent that the judges meant to condemn her." In the court, her desperate advocate saved her with a spectacular coup. "Tearing off her garment, he laid bare her body and exhibiting her in all her beauty, broke into a piteous lamentation  . . . that this beautiful woman would be accused and threatened with death. He caused the judges to indulge their feeling of compassion, and a superstitious fear grew amongst the court that this flawless handmaid was the representative of  the Goddess Aphrodite; they did not dare to anger Aphrodite who had gifted Phryne her beauty and as a result, they refrained from putting her to death."


– source: Web translations of various accounts

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