Bitch on the Blog

February 8, 2015

Running on empty

Filed under: Errors — bitchontheblog @ 16:00
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Someone close to me has taken to whoring. For the wrong reasons. No shit.

On the whole I admire whores. Why? Because you must be in one desperate hell of a hell to let someone you have no connection with, no desire for, to touch you.  That’s where it pays to be a man: You can avail yourself of any artifice and orifice of an unknown – and it will NOT impact on the love for the “real” woman in your life, the mother of your children. It’s one of the Creator’s big jokes. One most women (on the whole) don’t understand but should make every effort to do so.

Where was I: Admiring whores. I don’t admire the one mentioned in my first line. As I don’t admire arch manipulators. People who lie all over the place – lying not for others’ benefit but for their own ends. In fact I despise her. Not for the whoring. But for the trail of misery and slime she leaves in the wake of her never satisfied vanity, her constant need to be validated as the best. Give it another few months/a year and she’ll crash land badly. The test of her real mettle will be whether she’ll accept any parachute offered to her.




  1. I’m grateful I never had to resort to that. But if it came to whoring or starving I’d not starve.

    Comment by bikehikebabe66 — February 8, 2015 @ 18:26 | Reply

    • My dear sweet Cynthia, easier said than done.

      Apart from all the other hookers I admire there is Claudia Cardinale in “Once upon a time in the West” when she explains, in such a non self pitying way, how she just “washes” afterwards – with hot water. Same film – heartbreaking scene with Jason Robards’ character reminiscing about his mother “the greatest whore in …” “My father must have been a lucky man”, Claudia Cardinale making coffee “just like her”. That’s how to pay a compliment to both – the woman and the mother.

      And there is that most wonderful expression (do you have it in American?): “Tart with a heart”. Meaning, to me, that utility does not exclude (e)motion.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 9, 2015 @ 11:13 | Reply

  2. Hello there….. you do drop ’em don’t you… bombshells I mean….

    Don’t be misled by your stated view of men……. Not all tarred with the same brush and nor are women….. they can be, and often are, just as rampant……

    Arch manipulators? Will have to give that some thought…..

    Comment by magpie11 — February 8, 2015 @ 18:48 | Reply

    • “Bombshells”? Dropping them? Soon it’ll be all out nuclear. As they say in the motherland: I can’t resist “to make fire underneath others’ behinds.” I am sure your daughter-in-law will be amply qualified to explain.

      My dear Magpie, I am not being “misled”. Neither did I state my “view of men”. My view of men so very benign. I love men. Yet, facts are facts. Fact is that men (let’s leave women out of this – for that I don’t understand my gender well enough) have a way of compartmentalizing. AND – Men are visual beasts. Not because the WANT to be, they just are. That’s why no wife, partner, girlfriend, whatever, should take offence at the eye of a man being caught by what suddenly comes into his line of vision.

      To be continued on another thread.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 9, 2015 @ 11:14 | Reply

  3. Whoring? I knew many whores, some the cheap and nasty street whores and several high class escort/apartment whores.
    I felt sorry for all of them. Such an unpleasant occupation.

    As you despise the one you are talking about why would you a) be interested in the outcome and b) offer a parachute?

    Comment by Friko — February 8, 2015 @ 21:00 | Reply

    • Good to hear from you again, Friko. I feared you’d given up on me.

      Loving someone and despising them for wrecking other people’s lives is not mutually exclusive. The person I am referring to is (loosely translated) “baked to my heart”. Hence, as you put it, I am not only “interested in the outcome”, I await it with trepidation. And hope my worst fear won’t come true. If it does? We are nothing without those who – against all odds – will hold out a hand. Even to an arch manipulator. Even to a traitor. Show me an arsehole and I see the child he/she once was. Can’t say it’s the most practical way to approach life letting my heart melt at every corner. Neither is it misplaced sentimentality – an accusation which does come my way; and one I do reflect on since I do take the opinion of others seriously. I don’t know what it is. It’s just me. And makes life difficult. And happy at the same time.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 9, 2015 @ 11:14 | Reply

  4. No, I don’t admire whores. I feel desperately sorry for them as in most cases they’ve slipped into it through their inability to hold down a “normal” job – through drink or drug addiction, mental health problems etc. And there’s not much to admire when many of their clients are violent and abusive and generally undermine what’s left of their self-esteem. I admire those women who were tempted by prostitution but were determined to avoid it and managed to find a better way of getting on with their life.

    Comment by nick — February 8, 2015 @ 21:58 | Reply

    • Let’s leave aside all the cliches of how one ends up in prostitution. Or why some (the lucky ones) make it a career of choice.

      I am afraid you misunderstand the point of my post, Nick, and, by the way, please don’t be so judgmental of what one does to put bread on the table and/or keeping your pimp satisfied. I admire these women because I believe prostitution (I am talking street and brothel) the hardest job in the world. How can one bring oneself to service complete strangers? Someone you don’t know. Worst case scenario – someone who is physically less than appetizing. Walk down the high street and look at men coming into view as potential “customers”. The only way possible I imagine is to totally compartmentalize your Self by leaving your soul at the door, using your body as you would any tool to do a job and thinking of England or something similarly exciting.

      Leaving the high class hooker/escort and particularly the Courtesan aside – prostitution is one of the cruellest mirrors age can hold up to a woman. Never ever was this made clearer to me than on a visit to Amsterdam. What follows could be out of a Balzac novella or a Maupassant short story. In the morning I stood in awe – a meter or so away – before Rembrandt’s “Night Watch” (what is it about originals that enthrall me so much?). In the evening my husband took me to another world. A world my naive twenty something had not imagined, neither much thought about. I particularly remember one huge window with two of the most beautiful bodies and faces I had ever seen. One black, one white. Advertising their wares like a still life. And then, and it burnt itself into my heart, there was this woman of indefinable age, on the street. With not a hope in hell to make so much as five guilders that night. It broke my heart. I shed tears. “Well that was a success then”, my husband, who liked nothing better than showing me the world, drily remarked. He could never stand my being moved by the plight of some of the inhabitants of that world. Reminds me of when I choked at the sight of a fresh roadkill (a cat) on our way home from a party. Middle of the night. “You don’t even know that cat”, he said. What’s that got to do with anything? Anyway …


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 9, 2015 @ 11:15 | Reply

  5. I’m not being at all judgmental about what people do to survive. If you’re desperate enough, you’ll do just about anything. But that doesn’t mean I have to admire their choice, any more than I would admire a drug dealer or a mugger. And there are plenty of other tough jobs in the world. How about being a miner or a firefighter or a factory worker? How about a Chinese sweatshop? I think in a strange way you actually idealise prostitutes. But it’s just a crappy job like a lot of others. And why the need to “service” men’s sexual obsessions in the first place?

    Comment by nick — February 9, 2015 @ 18:32 | Reply

    • Oh, Nick – insert heartfelt sigh – you really don’t get it, do you.

      Look at your argument: You throw hookers into the same pot as “a drug dealer or a mugger”. May I remind you that the last two engage in criminal activity, actually harming others. A prostitute gives pleasure.

      “Tough jobs”? Sure. Let’s play a little game: What would YOU (not that you are a woman so your imagination curtailed by necessity) rather do: Suck up to someone, being invaded like Poland, pawed by strangers who don’t give a shit about you OR go down the mine, clean toilets, fight a fire or work in a factory? What odd examples you give, Nick. You are comparing apples to pears. No, actually you are comparing fruit with meat.

      Do I, as you suggest, “idealise prostitutes”? I don’t know. Possibly. Indeed. You know why? Because to me – and to my chagrin – prostitution is unimaginable. The last few years have seen me in dire – and I mean dire – straits as to my finances. How many times have I lamented: “I’ll do anything, ANYTHING, to earn money.” Closely followed by: “… short of prostitution”. It’s the last frontier. Mind you, one could ask what on earth is so precious about me and my body. I don’t know. I don’t even gag easily. So no excuses there.

      Your last sentence “why the need to ‘service’ men’s sexual obsessions in the first place” doesn’t make sense. Why do you equate a man’s sexuality and his willingness to pay with “obsession”? It isn’t. I am not a man so can only speculate but there is a difference between male and female sexuality. Which is where we come full circle in my argument: Namely that to a man purchasing release and pleasure is nothing more than purchasing release and pleasure. For women – on the whole – the granting of favours comes loaded. Hence I admire those of my gender who are able to leave themselves at the front door. And live with the consequences.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 9, 2015 @ 19:25 | Reply

  6. And will you be there to offer that parachute?

    Comment by Lorna's Voice — February 12, 2015 @ 00:51 | Reply

    • Yes, Lorna, I will be here with a parachute. No conditions attached. Will she take it? I don’t know. If she does? She’ll hate me for it.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 13, 2015 @ 10:22 | Reply

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