Falling in Love with a Hooker

Scott Hyatt November 7, 2012 Comments Off on Falling in Love with a Hooker

By Scott Hyatt

My best friend is falling in love with a hooker, and I’m not saying “hooker” in the casual metaphorical sense. She is a real prostitute from Russia.

When my buddy first told me this, I thought he was joking. It sounded like a line Barney would say on How I Met Your Mother.

“I think I’m falling in love with Olga.”

“Who’s Olga?”

“A prostitute I met in Moscow.”

And then as if nothing out of the ordinary was said, my buddy took a casual drink of his cocktail.

“I’m working on getting her a tourist visa so she can stay with me for two months,” he said.

It’s one thing to fall in love with a woman you barely know, and I guess I could imagine infatuation quickly brewing in the presence of a beautiful woman. But the boundaries are certainly crossed when you fly a woman across the Atlantic to service you. I’m not an attorney, but there has to be some international law against that.

I was about to tell my buddy he had lost his mind when he started to rationalize why falling in love with a hooker is better than falling in love with a girl in the City.

“Marriage is a business transaction and an emotional transaction,” he said. “Would you agree with that?”

It was a rhetorical question because he continued talking before I had a chance to answer or even contemplate his thought.

Men In Cities

“Relationships in New York City are a business and emotional transaction whether you agree with it or not,” he said. “We’re paying for drinks and dinner right? Well, that’s a business transaction. I may not be giving them cash for sex, but I’m buying them dinner and drinks for sex. It’s a business transaction. I’m just paying with a different currency.”

I looked over my shoulder to make sure a woman wasn’t eavesdropping. This is about the time when a woman throws a drink into the guy’s face.

“So you’re saying every guy in New York City is dating a whore? I’d like to hear you tell that to a woman,” I said in my uncharacteristic library voice.

“We all deny it, but let’s call a spade a spade. We pay women in different ways for what we want. And, women give it up as well for what they want – dinner, drinks, a movie, maybe time.”

I had never thought about relationships like that, but I was starting to buy his argument.

“So what about this emotional transaction?” I asked.

“The women I date in New York City do fall for me,” he said. “I’ll give them that, but I can’t help but wonder why they fall for me.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“I think they fall for me because I’m a good catch.”

There is no denying my friend is a good catch. He’s a charmer, good-looking, quick-talker, tall, sharp dresser. He’s got a large 1-bedroom apartment in the Village and he’s never had a problem meeting girls.

I would never describe my friend as insecure, but I was starting to see signs of insecurity knocking at his door. Maybe his age was starting to deteroritate his confidence.

“I think these City girls fall for me because I buy them a meal and drinks. Maybe they think I’m a great catch because I have a decent job and great apartment. But with Olga, at least I know the truth. She is with me because I pay for her time.”

“But that’s not an emotional transaction,” I said. “She’s not giving her emotions to you. She’s giving you sex for money.”

“True, but everything becomes an emotional transaction over time,” he said. “We may not start with an emotional transaction, but over time, an emotional transaction takes place. The more time we spend with them, the more we fall for them. Olga is no different. The more time I will spend with her, the more emotional transactions will take place.”

“But do you really want to fall in love with a hooker? Think about it. She’s probably getting fucked right now and some fat old guy is paying her for exactly what you did. How can your emotions get involved with that?”

“That’s the point,” he said. “The emotional transaction hasn’t taken place yet, but it could easily happen if I allow her to move to NYC with me. At least with Olga, I know what I’m getting. I’m getting a whore who wants me for my money. With other women, I don’t know what I’m getting. Maybe they’re with me because they want to have a kid and I’m the last guy standing. Who knows, but if I’m going to make an emotional transaction, shouldn’t it be with a woman I like? At least I’m getting an honest woman.”

Wow, she must have really fucked his brains out, I thought.

I’m not sure my friend will end up flying his hooker to NYC, but I know he’s somewhat serious. He told me later that night that he’s already researched her travel visa requirements, flights and the paperwork he needs to fill out for her visit. He even made a call to the Russian consulate.

He spent more time planning her trip than he ever planned for a Friday night date. I never saw him make even a dinner reservation.

Now that, my friend, is the beginning of an emotional transaction. Thank God I wasn’t on that business trip.