I'm a 26-year-old virgin, but I rarely feel any bitterness about it. I've always felt there were more important achievements in life besides sleeping with someone. After admitting to being a virgin, some people no longer wanted to know me, so it's starting to feel like an albatross around my neck.
I don't feel emasculated because in the sport of sex. I'm proud of my weighty penis. It's the rest of my body I worry about. My torso is covered in scars from rapid weight gain and weight loss, and my face can only manage a smirk instead of a smile, due to teenage Bell’s palsy.
Not too bad, but it causes me self-image grief. The question is, should I hop on a train and go to see an escort? I was against the idea, thinking it felt like a forfeit, but I feel out of options. Would a sex worker really care if I'm out of shape and socially awkward?
I wish I could say I didn't care, but with a 27th birthday approaching, it feels like I desperately need to be rid of it.
Thanks,
John
First off, congrats for blowing my mind with the term “weighty penis.” I’m being 100 per cent sincere. That descriptor is still leaving me speechless. It takes a real punch in the face to shut me up, so well done.
There is nothing wrong with going to a prostitute. If you want to do it, go. Just make sure you’re prepared to pay. (Any sex worker worth her salt is a great negotiator.) The more you put in, the better client you are and the greater experience you will have. I hate it when people talk about “prostitutes” like these women are arcade games you plunk a few quarters into for quick stimulation. These women are people – human beings with the ability to feel. (You want total silence and not awkwardness? Fuck a Realdoll.) Yes, going to a sex worker is a business transaction: You are not their friend; you are their client. That being said, their job is to “party” with you and make sure everyone has a great time.
If you want discretion and a luxury experience, I highly recommend going to a brothel. I just spent the weekend at Dennis Hof’s infamous Alien CatHouse in Amargosa Valley, Nevada. I was doing a piece for Hustler on their newly appointed Madam, who also happens to be a friend of mine. The girls working there really impressed the hell out of me. I can’t explain it: They are the ultimate combination of saleswoman and sex kitten. The brothel offers tact and privacy. Half the girls who work there don’t even advertise their faces to the public. Furthermore, county laws require that the sex workers are tested by a doctor each week, so you are guaranteed safety, free of STIs. The girls at the brothel are professionals who have seen it all. Your scars, smirk and self-deprecation will just be another lap around the block. A sex worker may “care” that you are out of shape or socially awkward, but unlike a civilian, she would never let you know that. That’s the beautiful delusion of this business transaction. Enjoy the fantasy you paid for.
Now, if you can’t make it down to the land of legalized debauchery, then go through an escort agency. It’s the easiest way to get a professional experience. If you have time to do some research, you can dive into a Craigslist K-hole and find your perfect escort. I heard some girls even advertise through Tinder now. Paid sex is everywhere. Finding someone won’t be an issue.
Don’t become Steve Carrell in that Judd Apatow movie (though he did end up married to Catherine Keener.) This is real life, not a movie. Treat yourself for your 27th year of life and go get yours. Your weighty penis needs to find its way into a vagina.
Best of luck and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Have your own sex questions? Email Mish at [email protected]
