Love, My Ass!

Love, My Ass!

There is nothing that will ruin a perfectly good ho, like falling in love. I have seen it so many times. Falling in love just ruins your ability to think clearly, make decisions and function normally. Not to mention it is sickeningly nauseating being around two people in love. I have fallen in love several times, and I have to say I just couldn’t wait for the phase to pass, it made functioning difficult, if not down right impossible. It is as if my rational self was locked away in a totally sound proof room with super thick windows, screaming its head off, with people passing by looking in and seeing the scene as normal.

Also, everyone around you just coos and congratulates you on how wonderful it is to find someone, and blah, blah. You, wouldn’t congratulate someone for running naked down the street? You would say it was craziness, so why doesn’t society see falling in love in the same light? It is a blinding form of temporary insanity that in condoned by society as something normal. People in love shouldn’t be allowed to walk around; they should be locked in a room until they recover their senses.

I too have given up my job to be with the man I love, that lasted about 18 months when I just couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion something was definitely not right, more on that later.

Anyway, Cupcake was also traveling and working in Ireland, and one day contacted me as she and her touring partner had a bit of a falling out. So, I met with her, took her under my wing so to speak, and showed her how I did things, which was of course different to how her former partner did them, in that I was quite happy to show her how to do them for herself. It wasn’t interesting for me to have control of information or tips. I helped her buy a new computer, and we toured together for a bit, and then the silly cow decided to give it up for her man. Oh FFS! Typical man, couldn’t handle a strong woman, so systematically fucked with her head until she decided it was best to let this idiot move in with her and her child in another city where he didn’t speak the language and basically had no job! I told her what I thought, and basically she doesn’t say much to me because she knows how I feel about her fucking up her perfectly good life for a pointless piece of dick.

I just don’t understand what prompts some women to destroy their perfectly formed lives for a man? I have reached a point where I am quite happy with my own company, so happy with it in fact, that I am loathed to waste time spending it with people I don’t like unless I am being monetarily compensated in a serious way.

Which is why I don’t live with any one of my gentlemen, they are in different countries. The thought of returning from a tour to a man in my space fills me with a suffocating sensation. I have for a period of time been dealing with demands, desires, moods, perversions, and smells of men, the last thing I want is one of those male, needy, eternal genitalia baring creatures around me. I want to reconnect with the children, with the cat, with myself; I want to walk around in my PJ’s all day if I choose, unshaven and smelly.

When on tour I will immerse myself in the job, I am on call 24hours a day; I will wake from a deep sleep in the middle of the night and answer the phone, why? Because I am there to work, when I work I make money. Let’s be honest the only reason any working girl is in Ireland isn’t because we love the Irish, the pubs, the food, the weather, it is because in terms of a client base, they pay well, they are consistent, they are quick and there are lots of them. Just as the Polish deserted the country when the recession hit and the jobs started to be cut, so would the WG’s flee, if the client base stared to disappear? We are there simply because even in the middle of a recession the average Irish Punter is paying well above the odds for his pleasure, and we will keep being there as long as they keep paying.


All Men Are Punters

All men are punters, whether they know it or not. All men are looking for and wanting to engage in non-responsible sex. By non-responsible sex I mean, they want the no strings attached kind, most men don’t want meaningful intimate sex with a loving partner, most can’t handle that kind of responsibility. Being that intimate with a woman, Jaysus Christ. What are they to do with all that? So, even in one-on-one relationships men try to in some cases succeed in reducing women to their incompetent level of sexual immaturity. That of getting from point A to point B in 10 minutes or less. Because the basic male of the species being the immature creature he is, can’t deal with more emotion than that in a lovemaking session.

Men don’t actively seek a relationship, they seek sex, the relationship happens because if the female is determined, she will set certain rules for sex knowingly or unknowingly, thus causing the man to play along. Men fall into relationships, because they are led there like, most of the trouble they get into, by their dicks.

Remember the old days when if you dallied with a girl, it was marriage plain and simple? Why, because men from older times were more chivalrous? Not a chance. Back in those days because communities were smaller, and families bigger, the female in question had a father, brothers, uncles, and the odd cousin to back her up. Not to mention, these assorted males came with a small accompaniment of various axes, maces, swords, lances, and in more modern times, shot guns, and hand guns as back up. In other words you dallied with a young woman, you would have the entire wrath of her male family members brought to bear on the unfortunate mans head. Basically men were forced into complying with the rules, by threat of violence. What makes men contemplate marriage these days? I think in most cases, especially in terms of Irish men, they are looking for a mother to care for them. But then again aren’t all men? And the average Irish female plays her part brilliantly, the sex is deviant, the dresses are short, and the nights out wild, until that band is on her finger. Then the rules change, and men being the idiots that they are, still don’t clock on that there is a new world order, they think all the wild sex they are getting now will continue. Poor deluded fools.


The Girl Friend Experience

Dear god how this term is bandied about. I have clients calling up saying things like, “I am looking for the GFE.” I sometimes feel like telling them, “I have my period, my back aches, how about you rub it for me and fix us a cup-pa whilst you are at it, oh and don’t forget to leave the money on the night stand on your way out. I am going to have a nap. How is that for your fucking Girl Friend Experience?! ”

What they really mean is they don’t want to feel like they have just paid for it. They want me to coo over their less than impressive manhoods, and pretend I have climaxed numerous times in great succession, because I am a wanton, brazen whore, who can’t get enough of mens cocks. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Their delicate egos can’t deal with the fact that I would much prefer that they dropped the money through the letter box and pissed off. I mean it isn’t like they aren’t used to this treatment already, it is how their wives behaves towards them now, isn’t it? She has the children, she has the name, the house(s), the car(s) the husband is really superfluous, pointless even. I think most married women would be quite happy if their husbands moved to the nearest leper colony on another planet. I mean seriously, less laundry to do, less cleaning up, and certainly less micro management and social engineering, oh and lets not forget his mother! That alone should put them off having him around. It is a total win-win situation all around.

When it comes to sex in my personal life I can take it or leave it. If I don’t have it I won’t start to break out in hives, nor will I pick fights for the hell of it. I will just grab one of my trusty pink turbo vibrators and have at it. Done, dusted, sorted. No fuss no muss, no messy clothes to clean up in the morning, no awkward conversations to have, no breakfast to make, no funky smells but my own. Brilliant!

This may or may not come as a surprise, but I really don’t like having men around me unless there is a specific need for them to be there. I find they clutter up my well organized space, and continually get underfoot in a way like nothing else.

That, and I generally find most men to be far too needy for my taste. They need feeding, clothing, cared for, sex, toiletries arranged, things mislaid found, and a host of other things I find tedious and time consuming. Who is going to do these things for me? So although I love my significant others, I prefer it that they live in other towns, cities and even countries if the truth be told. It makes for a bit more effort on my part, but when I see them finally I a genuinely happy to spend a limited amount of my precious time with them. Then I hop on a train, or plane, and disappear from their lives.

I will probably end up raising prized pure breed dogs. Crufts here I come.

Irish Men

Irish Men

Ireland is a nation of mammy’s boys! And a proud one at that. Irish men are FOREVER tied the the strings of their sainted mothers, I feel so bloody sorry for their wives. If what I see passing through my door on the average day is the the typical Irish man, husband, son, father, Jaysus-fing-Christ.

It is a known fact that all men have some sort of issue, the poor loves can’t help it, by virtue of having external genitalia, it comes with a special set of burdens, but that being said, Irish men come with a particular stock set. They have mammy issues; she yanked them away from her breasts too soon. Pappy issues, he wanted to yank the little brat away sooner than his mother would allow. They have sibling issues, big sis/bro terrorized them, the local priest buggered them, they were malnourished, and whatever the reason Irish men have ISSUES! And the main issue they have, are their Mothers! It is a nation of naughty public school boys, sneaking behind the archetypical Great mother’s back.

Their mothers think the sun shines out of their crusty asses. I have had grown men, not young adults, proudly say they are still living at home with their mothers, who washes his clothes, cooks his favorite meals, and basically stops short of wiping his ass and sucking his dick. How I know this, I have visual evidence that they still haven’t learned how to clean themselves, and he is sitting in my boudoir in a state of semi-flaccid, semi arousal having paid me to preform said service. I would stand and look at them in amazement and contempt. How can a grown man not know how to wash his ass, and has not an ounce of shame in soiling my bed linen? After working in Ireland I came to realize what it was. I, being a hooker, was beneath contempt! So the normal rules governing human interaction don’t apply when an Irishman is dealing with a foreign hooker! This was shocking for me, being from a society that respects all people, street sweeper to judge. Wow, the fact that the members of this backward ass little forgotten hole of a country had the nerve to be contemptuous of anyone was astounding. What kind of country produced an ignoramus of a man whose inability to grasp the basics of personal hygiene, had by virtue of the constructs of his society could feel superior to a hooker, because he was paying her a fee to suck his cock? If the reader is as confused as me about this, welcome to the club.

Irish mothers have a lot to answer for in terms of how they totally fuck up their sons. I have never encountered a group of men so completely pussy whipped. If it wasn’t the Immaculate sisters, beating the holy sit out of the little demons, their grandmothers scaring them to death with horror stories, it is the shear terrifying fear of loosing half of what he has worked for if his wife were to find out what he was up to. I think good grief, how do these dick-less wonders father any children? Oh, and father them they do! I often puzzle about if there was a special at the hospital that the wife gave birth at, ‘birth one, get one free’. I often see women with two in a buggy quite close in age, and another one in development. She looks like hell, walking around in pajamas, the kids are wailing little cretins, because mom is too harassed to be bothered to do more than yell at them as a sign of affection. Is it any wonder their husbands are coming to me for a bit of fun?

I Absolutely Love Marriage

I Absolutely Love Marriage

I love weddings, getting all dressed up and knock down drag out parties, I love seeing the bride and groom run down the isle and pledge undying love to each other for a life time(at least at that moment). The cake, the champagne, the festivities. I love weddings. But I love marriage even more. Why, because callous as it may seem, these are the future punters of tomorrow.

Evil, I know, but I do so enjoy reading the wedding announcements, the same as some people read obits, I read these, look at the pictures of the happy couples, and wait….patiently, because whether or not he visits me, eventually he will visit someone. If he is smart, he will. Having an affair is messy, it involves emotions and it involves repercussions if caught that have many far reaching consequences. This is Ireland we are talking about. Nothing stays secret for long believe me. I do wonder if they even have a secret service. It would be impossible with the entire population of the tiny island being related in some form or another.

Today what drives the average Irish man to visit a whore, is the average Irish woman. As far a women go the Irish woman is a peculiar creature, now all of this is gleaned for casual talks with my clients about their relationships with their wives, girlfriends and such. They didn’t know I was taking notes.

Basically the general theme that recurs most often, is:

“Before we were married she fucked me six ways from Sunday, whenever I wanted, where ever I wanted, then as soon as we were married, that was it.”

“As soon as the first child was born, it was like I wasn’t needed anymore, she would have quite happily liked it if I had fecked off and just posted her my salary.”

“Yeah, sex is ok, the once a week I am allowed to get any, but it is usually the same standard missionary position.”

“My wife doesn’t suck my cock.” To be honest I don’t blame her, I wouldn’t be sucking it either if you weren’t paying me.

“I have been married for 20 something years, and can count on one hand how many times I have had sex with my wife.” This one is an extreme case.

Plus the laws governing divorce in Ireland are quite complex, it takes forever to get one, and then the man is in serious danger of loosing a great part of what he worked for. So in essence it favors the woman, and she knows this. Because once they are married it is actually ‘cheaper to keep her.”

There were always massage parlors around, but these were mostly in Dublin, so the country lads were not getting much in the way of fun until the advent of the internet, and the ladies started to move around into the hinterlands of be-nighted Ireland.

Oh but they have made up for it now. I have been in some places that can only be best described as hovels in the middle of no where. This isn’t the clients house, this is the tiny village with the one traffic light. This is where I have been called out to for an out call? Is that a dog I hear baying at the moon, or a wolf? Christ you just didn’t know what you were walking into. The door opens and low and behold, it is a bloody palace inside. Why the fuck would someone want to live out in the middle of the bush? Privacy!