would you pay for sex?

a few months ago, someone very wasted and very drunk woke me up with a phone call. if you are in my shoes, says he, would you pay for sex?

now, of why he decided to ask for my opinion is besides the point. i have disturbed his maggie-free life for a whole less idiotic questions than that. it is a privilege we both gave each other and for a good purpose. there are friendships in this world that are weaved in strange reasons.

and although he is one of the smartest guy i’ve known sober, he was always more reasonable when drunk.

he would never pay for sex. at least, that was what he wrote in his diary, anyway. not that i am in a habit of sneaking into someone else’s diaries. i just ended up being offered to take a peek on some of their entries by the authors themselves (yes, he is not alone. i can name three other guy friends of mine who keep diaries). the thing about being that crazy girl next door type of girl is that when you become one of the guys, you get to have these occurences more often.

if i were in his shoes, would i pay for sex? i would assume two things are confirmed: (1) that there were no girls to bang around, and (2)that he was very horny. otherwise, why would that thought even be considered?

would i pay for sex? how badly do i need to have it? is there no other way to get off? i told him my opinion wouldn’t matter as i can seem to tell by his voice that he made up his mind anyway. so, what was the purpose of the call?

i don’t know, says he. maybe i need someone to stop me.

i would never pay for sex. but then, that is a no-brainer. it is like saying i would never pay for the use of air to breathe at this stage. maybe when i am in my late forties and single and horny as hell, perhaps, my perception would shift. and so, my opinion doesn’t really matter.

you know where i strongly stand on that one, says i. we had too many arguments with that whole prostitution thing, if you remember.

i remember, says he. tell me to stop.

he is always reasonable when he is drunk. but it was the war between the needs of the flesh and the reasoning of the mind. and when the body rebels, it starts a reason on its own. and so i considered his position. okay, it is a physiological need, says i. if you really have to do it, then do it. at least, you have maslow’s hierarchy of needs to blame for that when you wake up the morning after and realized what you got yourself into.

maslows hier-what the fuck are you talking about?, says he.

maslow’s hierarchy of need. his theory states that as we meet the “basic needs”, that is only the time we will seek and be able to satisfy succesively “higher needs”. psychology 101. didn’t you take it up at the uni? says i. so anyway, sex is at the bottom of the pyramid; sexual intimacy is two chunks up and i assumed that you are not looking for that one now. just plain, animal sex, right? so, well, think about STDs and AIDS and god knows what else and protect yourself. that’s all i have to say.

there was a long silence at the other end of the line and then he spoke up.

you are such a geek. says he. and frightfully practical.

and my twisted reasoning shall take it as a compliment, says i. but id rather you go home and have a cold shower.

i wasn’t doing a reverse psychology but it probably worked. paying money for sex didn’t seem to attract him anymore. or perhaps, i bored him with maslow’s theory. or perhaps, his interest shifted to a good bed he can hoard for himself. with drunk people, you would never know.

i think i will do that, say he. and so i spoke to the driver so he can drive him home. i love you, baby.

i love you, too. now go home and let me go back to sleep. says i.

men are very strange creatures. but i prefer them over female on friendships anytime.


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