Monday 22 November 2010

Don't Call the Call Girl.

I watched a good French thriller on the TV tonight. It was called Le Serpent, and is well worth a look if you’re into thrillers. One bit of it even related to a matter close to my heart.

It started with an elderly professional man being blackmailed for his night of pleasure with an attractive young call girl. Admittedly, the elderly professional was rather more elderly than me, but it still got me thinking. It struck me that the only way I’m ever going to enjoy a night of pleasure with an attractive young woman is if I pay for it, and there are two problems with that.

The first is that I don’t have that kind of money, and even if I did there would be better things to spend it on. I suppose that objection could be overridden if I won the lottery or something, but the second problem is deeper and would apply no matter how rich I was.

I need to be invited if the experience is to be worth anything. To use a simple analogy, the sex is the icing on the cake; the cake itself is the ego-boost that comes from being thought attractive enough to be allowed into the inner sanctum. Ergo: if there’s no cake, there’s no icing to put it on.

It’s a shame for me, isn’t it? I wonder whether you can still get bromide.

2 comments:

Maria Sondule said...

Wouldn't it be just as satisfying if you found someone your age and not as pretty but who really loved you and who you loved as well? That's the only way I'd have it.

You survived the first 14 years of your life without sex, you can do it! lol

JJ said...

1) Er, no. Sad. Wrong. Shallow. Whatever. I'm not made that way.

2) So I did, and without bromide.