Ho, or no ho?

I’m wondering whether I should visit a prostitute. It may be because I’m drunk right now, or it may be because I’d quite like to have sexual intercourse without putting up with the usual shenanigans and bullshit that go with it. One thing is putting me off, and it’s nothing to do with shame, the credit crunch or diseases. I just have a horrible feeling that – knowing my luck with women – I’d end up with some middle-aged hag with brown teeth and a moustache who’ll only agree to touch me with a glove on.

Maybe I’m destined to be single. Would it be so bad? I could choose my own meals every day, not have to worry about leaving my dirty pants on the kitchen floor, and I’d never again have to spend six days traipsing around perfume stores for the perfect scent, only to be told when she’s wearing it “you’ve made me smell like a whore.” It’s tempting…

Jared at work has a bit of a history with prostitutes. Maybe I’ll ask him for a recommendation. Although thinking about it, it’s bad enough using a pallet truck after he’s had his hands on it. They end up dirty and smelly and with their wheels pointing in different directions. God knows what state he’d leave a woman in, especially one he’s hired and therefore doesn’t have to take care with.

Do prostitutes advertise in Yellow Pages, I wonder?

I really shouldn’t write these blogs after an evening of Stella.

RC 25-4-09
2227 BST