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.
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
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
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
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
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