Category Archives: PROSTITUTION


I was interpreting for a young man a while back, and I still remember him as the picture of loneliness. His head was hanging. His very flesh seemed to hang loose on him, as if detachment had infused his tissues and his own skin didn’t want to cleave to his flesh and bones. He oozed sadness from every pore. What on earth had he done to end up in our court system?

He was accused of communicating with a minor for immoral purposes. As it turns out, it was a sting operation, and no young people were harmed in the setup for his arrest. The point was to draw people out of the woodwork and get them to take classes to avoid jail, educating them in the process about the trafficking industry. The hope was that at least some people would think twice about where they take their pleasure, and at whose expense.

I remember reading a poem by a young and impoverished European man, written close to 150 years ago. In it, he writes about how some fortunate ones can afford to fall in love and marry, while young men like him are left standing outside, looking in. He hints about prostitution, and argues that “those of us for whom the gates of heaven are barred still long for it unremittingly, because heaven is still heaven, even to outcasts like us”.

Of course a lot of people would like to have sexual access to another human being, or at least some kind of contact, some kind of touch to overcome our loneliness. The unremitting longing for human connection is natural. We are social animals, and society shuts so many of us out the loop. Especially for touch. But what do we do about human trafficking victims? Can we shrug our shoulders and overlook the dark underbelly of the whole sex trade? Can we use our own pain, our own sadness, our own loneliness, as an excuse to add to the overall suffering of the human species? No, we cannot. Because the harm to both self and others is inescapable. And it runs deep. And it leaves scars.

So may the flesh crawl off our bones if we get so disconnected from our humanity that we participate in human trafficking. And may the scales fall from our eyes so that we can truly see the consequences of our actions. May we see the light of humanity in ourselves and in those we would abuse. And develop enough compassion for ourselves and others that we don’t drive around in the dark looking for a young and vulnerable teen, in the false hope that they can take away our pain while we add to theirs.


I have met a couple hundred men who tried to hire a police officer to perform sexual services for them. I haven’t felt like giving space to them as I identify more with the sex workers than the johns. I am glad that my city has changed the name of the crime of soliciting a prostitute to Sexual Exploitation. I would prefer we go even further, given the current state of the so-called market, or human trafficking trade, and call it Economic Rape.

I am not opposed to the policies in countries like Finland where it is legal for both parties to contract directly for sexual services in exchange for pay, even if I personally think it would be both creepy and sad to pay a person for sex, especially someone young, poor and vulnerable. I agree with Finland’s policy to continue to criminalize pimping as well, because at the very least, the sex worker deserves 100% of the pay for any kind of touch. And where sex work is legal, it is much easier for workers to reach out for help the same way other workers can.

Sex work has not been decriminalized or legalized in my area, but sex workers are no longer arrested and prosecuted. In parts of the country where they are still arrested, they are at risk for being harassed and exploited by law enforcement, and often have to provide services without pay to avoid jail and fines, while remaining virtually enslaved and getting no protection from their pimps. It is a very hard trade to break out of, if someone else is sending you out to touch 25 or 30 guys a day and raking in that money. They don’t want you to get away. Sound exaggerated? According to local police, that is the average expectation for “jobs in a day” among the trafficked kids they now work to rescue.

When I have interpreted for the john’s class, a member of the vice squad comes in and routinely gives statistics: 85% of area sex workers are under 18 years old; 99% of these minors are pimped out, sometimes by family members in a long, tragic lifetime of abuse and exploitation. Approximately 1% of the US population has ever gone to a prostitute, but people who do try to normalize their behavior just like those who engage in domestic violence. At the end of the workshop, the city brings in a psychologist who tries to convince the johns that this trade is bad for them as well as for the sex workers, so they should care.

But do they care? I have only met one who said it was upsetting to hear about the sex workers during class. That he didn’t realize they were mostly so young, and that they didn’t get to keep the money. He mostly talked about the money. Because he was a poor immigrant, and he could identify with doing a job and then getting shorted on pay. He could identify with some middleman sending him out on a job and then keeping most of the money. The rest of it he couldn’t fathom, because he was raised to think of “those women” as other. I saw him cringe each time a speaker suggested the sex workers “could be your mother, your sister, your daughter”.

The typical guy I meet on these cases is lonely. And lonely means isolated. Lonely means out of social network. Lonely means apart. They don’t have friends here. They are sleeping on some uncle’s couch and there is no chance to starting a family, so they can’t really date in the traditional sense of finding someone to set up a home with. They don’t even have papers to be in the US, and any day some random guy at the bus stop could ask them for the time – in their language – and then ask where they are from and then arrest them, because oops, that was an ICE agent, stupid.

So what does any of this have to do with sex work? Nothing. God gave them two hands, as the old saying goes, and they should know how to self-soothe. Yes, they live with a lot of people in a small space, but that is what the shower is for. Take care of your own business. But somehow there is an underlying loneliness and a deep well of isolation that makes these men reach out for a sex worker. Perhaps we should have compassion for them, because they are suffering, yet I cannot overlook the fact that they exhibit zero regard for the person whose body they plan to enter. A person whose work situation is much harsher and inescapable even than their own.

The typical guy I interpret for makes a big deal about how this random girl came up to him. She came up to him! And she smiled. Not a lot of people smile at poor immigrant workers with a backpack on. And she seemed friendly. And she seemed nice. And she talked to him. She talked to him in a friendly way! Then she asked if he wanted a date, and he was just blown away. What a dream come true. Then comes the hard part to stomach.

She tells him she is just fifteen, but that is not a problem. Is it? Girls get married at 12 and 13 in his village. It’s not that weird. Is it? Then she tells him she will have sex with him. It used to be around 50 dollars maybe two decades ago, but it is down to 25 or so in our new economy with lots of homeless and lots of addicts. So he says some version of full frontal and she says 35 dollars and he says 25 dollars instead and they agree to the price and the act, and he is so happy for that moment. He tells her to get into his truck. He is a stranger in a strange land seeking comfort from a stranger. It’s not that bad, is it? And he will be touched. Wow! Is this really happening?

No, it is not. Because four cops in uniform show up as he grabs her elbow to steer her to his truck and they start talking about Miranda and how he has the right to remain silent, and how anything he says can and will be used against him in a court of law, and he has the right to a lawyer, but wouldn’t he rather just do this the nice way, and admit that he was about to go off and have sex for pay – with someone who literally just told him that she is underage, so this is not just sexual exploitation, my friend, but commercial sexual abuse of a minor. Oh, and now all of a sudden he doesn’t know English after he just negotiated over “the f word” with a purported 15-year-old? Okay, dude. Let’s go down to the station.

I have heard defense attorneys argue during trials that these sting operations are unethical and racist. That they target poor men and immigrants. Why isn’t the city going after the high-end call girls?!? Then the prosecutors put the young cop on the stand. The one who has agreed to be in danger. To be groped. Yes, they are groped routinely. To be talked to in horrible ways. And then having the relief, the safety, of other cops showing up and protecting her. And she testifies about human trafficking. And she testifies that the city is doing its best to protect the youngest and most vulnerable “street” sex workers, because they are the ones at the highest risk of harm. There is no entrapment. Whoever approaches them and agrees to exchange sex for money will be arrested across the board. Most guys say no, thanks. For the others, prosecution is appropriate.


If you just watch the movies, you think sex trafficking is run by guys with mustaches and mean eyes, who have guns and are obvious.  But it’s not like that.  At least, it wasn’t for me.

Think about a nice neighbor lady, with kids of her own.  Who tells you things like, hey, I’m having a barbecue!  Come over and we can enjoy a nice chat.  I have an extra blouse that I got on sale, would you like it?  What are you doing on Sunday?  Wanna go to a park?

She had kids with different fathers, but so what?  I didn’t disrespect her for that.  I have kids with two and it is not through any fault of my own.  Men are so changeable that you can’t hold on to them.  And some of them are not worth keeping.  Anyway, at the time I got to know this neighbor, my boyfriend had just moved out, and I was struggling.  And she approached me, and she was so friendly!  Always inviting me over.  Always offering me food.

After a few weeks of being friendly, the neighbor lady told me that a man was asking for me.  How strange, I thought.  Who is this man?  Why is he asking for me?  Then she invited me out to dinner and said she would pay, and mentioned it was “with a male friend”.  I said no.  She kept insisting, but it didn’t feel right.  So I didn’t go, and she got strangely mad about it.

Then I got a text, on my phone,  from this man, and he said he wants to meet me.  But why?  Who is he?  What does he want?  I didn’t answer, and when I told her about it, she admitted she had given him my number, because he was asking for me.  She could not really explain why she would give my phone number to a strange man.  But she kept pushing me to meet him.  She even offered to babysit.

Well, it turns out it was for prostitution.  I found out later.  Yes, my neighbor lady was trying to sell me to men.  Can you imagine?  It turns out she got into debt – and couldn’t pay.  And these two men, the loan sharks, they told her – find us some women, and you can pay us back with their labor.  They will work for us and you can have a cut.  So you can pay us back that way.  Find us some immigrants, you know, some refugees.  They keep quiet.

So my neighbor lady, she was looking for women who had kids with more than one man.  She was looking for women who had suffered from domestic violence.  She was looking for women who had been abused as children.  She was looking for women who cannot protect themselves.  Who are lonely.  Who would never dare go to the police.  Who didn’t have brothers or fathers or husbands or boyfriends.  No one to protect them.  No one to help.

And she knows some of what I have been through in my home country.  And she knows I was badly beaten here.  Because she could hear him yelling and throwing things, hear me screaming, through the apartment wall, before I finally got him out.  So she must have thought, easy target.  She must have seen me as a victim.  And that is when she got all friendly.

But guess what?  What doesn’t kills you makes you fatter.  And I am not a skinny little innocent kid anymore.  She was really mad at me, but something wasn’t right.  So I kept telling her no, and I never gave in, thank God.  They never got me alone, and eventually they gave up on me.

Every time I think about it, I thank God that I didn’t fall into her trap, and may God pity those who did.  I was one of the lucky ones.  She was the face of innocence, that neighbor.  She had such kind eyes.  And that is why we say:  Faces are visible- but the soul is invisible.


Private Attorney:

Your Honor, my client is taking responsibly for his actions by signing this stipulated order for continuance.  He is very remorseful and this arrest and prosecution have been a great wake-up call for him.  He has already attended the required class, and will of course remain clean as a whistle over the year of supervision.  He is very interested in keeping this off his record, as someone with good standing, and well known – I might say, well-respected, in this community.

But Your Honor, we would like to make a formal request for you to waive the fines and fees.  We understand that he does not fit the guidelines for low income, but I ask you to consider the following.  He is paying very high fees for his children’s private schooling.  He has of course the fees to pay for this private counsel.  And he and his wife donate generously to their church.  So please take these matters into consideration in setting the fees, which frankly are exorbitant.


Counsel, I appreciate that your client has financial and family obligations.  I wish that he had appreciated it himself when he admittedly went to seek out sexual services from someone he thought was a teenage prostitute, who turned out to be one of our undercover police officers working against human trafficking.  I do not find his need to donate generously, or to privately school his children, to constitute financial need, and I note he has chosen not to submit a financial declaration, which is a prerequisite for a waiver.

I will impose the $1,500 fee for the prostitution prevention and intervention fund.  Another $1,000 to assist victims of prostitution.  Another $100 for the required DNA test, which all sex offenders must provide, and the $165 for the “John’s class”.    As your client appears to be on a path to avoid the up to 90 days in jail, I am hoping that some of these fines might remind him of the seriousness of the case.  And the fact that these girls are real.  They are real people.  Just like you, sir, and your wife, and your children.  Real people.

So ordered.



I was at a sentencing hearing for Communication with a Minor for Immoral Purposes today, and the judge said some important things.  I have no idea whether the defendant truly heard any of it, but it helps me to pass it on.

Defendant: “Your Honor, I just want to say that I am a good person.  I was raised with good values. I honestly had no idea that she was a minor.  Had I known that she was underage none of this would have happened, I assure you.  I was raised to never have anything to do with someone underage. I’m not like that.”

Judge: “Mr.  John.  The only reason you didn’t know that she was a child is because you didn’t want to know.  Your selfish desire meant that you had blinders on.  You didn’t see what you didn’t want to see, because you wanted what you wanted.  But sir, the arrest happened in the first place because a detective who was out on another case saw a child walking along the street at night and watched you approach her.  You were standing right next to her, and the detective was across the street.  You say you had no idea she was underage, yet the detective across the street knew right away – it was obvious – that she was a child.  A child selling sexual services. To you.

“I am going to share with you why our state takes these cases so seriously.  Almost all the minors who provide sexual services are victims of childhood sexual abuse.  They are deeply, deeply wounded people.  Some of them are put out there by pimps who control their every move and take all their money.  They are forced to service twenty or twenty-five people like you a day.  Some are drug addicts, intentionally so, because the adults who control them want them to be addicted.  Some are sold at a very young age by their own parents or guardians.  Others are brought here from other countries.  They are promised good jobs and money for their families.  Once they get here, they are sold into sexual slavery.  They are locked in.

“Kids like the girl you wanted to service you are modern day slaves.  They are controlled by others.  Others make the profit off of their work and suffering.  No one protects them.  This is especially true of the street level prostitutes.  And the whole human trafficking trade, boys and girls, is based on you, Mr. John.  You create the demand. You are the buyer that makes this slave trade possible.  Can you see that?

You just told me you were raised right and have good values.  If this is true, you will not want to support slavery.  You will not want to cause this kind of suffering, or participate in it.  You will take your blinders off and quit pretending you don’t know when you see a vulnerable child who deserves protection, not further exploitation.

“If you could read the personal history of this girl, you would cry your eyes out, if you have any human feelings at all.  She was a victim of childhood sexual abuse, trafficked by a family member, and forced onto the streets to get money for the adults in her life.  You provided that money.  You, and people like you, keep her on the streets.

I wish you could read this victim’s Child Protective Services file.  And I wish you would cry.  I wish you could understand her, and see her in all the other children walking the streets under these conditions.  So you could realize that nothing you want – nothing you think you need – could be worth the continued suffering of these children.  And yes, I keep talking about children.  Because your crime is against a child.  And almost 90% of sex workers are children.  Underage kids.  I hope that helps you understand how hard it is for me to believe that you “didn’t know” she was a child.

“You will be attending the Stopping Sexual Exploitation classes, as ordered by the court, and I will monitor your compliance.  You will hear again some of the things that I am telling you now. And I hope it enters your heart.  I hope it helps you to become the man you pretend to be, the one you think you are.  The one who would never again consider sexually exploiting a vulnerable child – who would feel sick at the thought of it, like the rest of us do.”


Here in the US and increasingly in many other countries, we live in a hypersexualized and commercialized society.  People are no longer viewed as full human beings, but as commodities to be bought and sold, or used to sell something else.  We all know this.  Parents are aware that the media portrayal of human bodies is causing severe and relentless body image issues that lead to young people living miserably or even dying, trying to fulfill an impossible standard.  Because the standard lets us know that our bodies are all that matter – that the feelings of the person who lives in that body are just not relevant.  Outside of actual warfare, this is nowhere more apparent than in the new wave of social acceptance for pornography.

Beyond television, Hollywood, the whole advertising world, magazines and mass media, we come to a yet darker underbelly of commercialization and trafficking of human beings for profit and a skewed short-sighted view of pleasure.  Pornography, and more specifically, teen porn.  I am not even getting into what most people agree is child pornography, because that has not become mainstream enough to become widely socially acceptable – yet.

There is an increasingly blurred line between the so-called “adult” industry and the current push toward the edges of whatever is out there, in an attempt to waken the dulled senses of the already sated, numb and bored masturbators.  One of the pushes is to lower the age into teen porn.  I have a lot of concern about the desensitization that porn creates, and the way it changes how consumers feel and think about others who share their planet.  But I am especially concerned about grownups of all ages “getting off” on images of young girls and boys.

If a 15-year-old girl or boy has what looks like “consensual” sex with a person 21 or older, even in a dating relationship, under the law there is no consent.  By statute, it counts as rape.  Why?  Because there is a presumption in the law that a 15-year-old is not mature enough and powerful enough and doesn’t have the authority to make such a decision.  But somehow it has now become okay for that same girl or boy to be performing or participating in sexual acts for mass consumption, with no control over those images, their pay or future use of their work.

Let’s pretend for the sake of argument that all the teen porn workers are really 18 and older and they just pretend to be younger. “They are not real,” as one porn user told me; a statement that cut me like a knife.  The sex workers are adults and I am just a whiner.  What is my problem?  For one, the documented fact that the vast majority of workers who end up in the sex industry have been and continue to be exploited and abused.  I don’t need to give examples or scenarios and I don’t want to.  But I do want to ask a question to any porn consumers:  Why is it okay to look at young people who have survived severe abuse in their families and communities, in order to arouse yourself sexually?  Is it the abuse that excites you, or just any image of any young body, as if there were not a real person living within that body?  These are not cartoons.

I submit that if you are going to pleasure yourself with real images of real people, you should give at least some little bit of a shit about how these very real, very human, likely abuse survivors felt while they were making it – or being made to make it.  And if that really doesn’t matter to you, you have a bigger problem than boredom, numbness, or sex addiction.  You are losing your ability to be fully human.  So you might as well, in my humble opinion, be dead.  Because you are already half-way there.  You have checked out of your life.

Seriously, for those few of you porn users who might still care.  Please consider not only how you are participating in hurting the sex industry workers, but also how this desensitization is hurting your own life.  Can you still see people clearly, or are you starting to train yourself to see young teens as sexually available to you?  Are you appropriate in your thoughts and actions?  Or are you mentally becoming one of those creepy guys that used to hang out in parks in a trenchcoat, before people had the sad convenience of vicariously abusing children in a lower risk environment?

Ultimately, you have  to be able to look at yourself in the mirror if you want to be a fully integrated human being.  Ask yourself, please, before it is too late, is this who you want to be, even if no one else knows it?  I hope not.  Because that is a pathetic waste of your very short life.  So why not decide to try, just for the heck of it, to face yourself in the mirror, and look into your own eyes?  Try to do some self-reflection, and see how that feels.  And if you find that you feel nothing, because you have become that disconnected from your own life, then let me tell you.  You have a problem that jacking off to teen sex workers is not going to solve.  Get some help.


“We are NOT against sex!  We ARE against abuse.  And abusing sex workers has got to stop.  That is why we give these classes, so you can really try to wrap your head around what you are participating in – a cycle of abuse.  Please listen.  We know what we’re talking about.  We are sex workers.”  A few members of the audience sit up in surprise and start to really look at the speaker.

One of my favorite yet painful things to interpret has been a John’s class.  It is an amazing educational program that came out of a sexworker union in California a few decades back and is now used as a model around the country.  It is unique in that it is taught by  current and former sex workers, so they obviously have some standing to tell the johns some home truths regarding sex for money, and break through some of the Hollywood myths.  When people outside the field try to bring up abusive sex practices, they are  dismissed as prudes who are not sex positive, but when the sex workers are talking, we as a society have to listen.  They know what their work is like.  And they deserve to be heard.

The class has some portions trying to raise self-awareness in the johns.  What makes you think you should have sexual access to these young women and men?  Do you realize it can be considered a form of economic rape?  Instead of a gun you hold needed money, and without that, you are not having sex.  If you claim it is a job, do you care about the working conditions at all?  What makes you feel like it is okay to hop atop someone without even giving the least little bit of a shit about how that person lives or what their life is like?  Even leaving aside the fact that you are married or have kids the age of the kids you pay for sex, and other attendant ethical issues.  What is wrong with you, what is the hole in your heart, the gap in your psyche that allows you to feel nothing  in the face of another person’s suffering? And to actually participate in their suffering with no feeling but a sense of excitement.  Seriously.  Take a look at that.  For your own good.

According the the police officer that presented at the last class I attended, 85% of local prostitutes are under 18 and almost 100% of teens have pimps.  Every class, men claim not to know that the person they have sex with is probably underage, and does not actually keep the money.  They claim they don’t know that young people are forced, coerced, bullied and threatened into the trade.  They have a discussion about it in small groups and once they loosen up, they tend to joke about how it would be great to just get paid to have sex.  That would be a dream job.  They have seen all the media portrayals and it looks like fun.  Easy money.

Then the police officer tells them some incidents from his personal experience investigating sex trafficking and pimping.  He talks about how little money the worker gets to keep for her own use, if any.  How many are raped repeatedly and forced to take drugs, locked up for weeks and have their families threatened, as inducements to agree to work.  Some are found and rescued and then there are the unknown who are never found.  He uses actual names and cases in the news.  He shows a series of photos of sex workers with scars, burn marks, tattoos, knife cuts and stitches, and other permanent marks courtesy of the pimps, either during working years or when the worker tried to escape.  He shows photos from a murder scene.

As he goes through the slides, the police asks the audience,  “imagine if this were your sister, your mother, your daughter, your wife, with her face cut up like that, with those burn marks,” and each time the men I interpret for shudder.  Not for the victims, but because they don’t like their families mentioned. It is such a common fighting word insult to say for example “your mother is a whore”  that it really hits them hard to hear.  They don’t want their womenfolk mentioned. The police officer points out that he wants the men to realize that these workers also have siblings and parents who love them, and often children they support. They are real people with real families.

The local public health department also comes in with photos of genitalia with various sexually transmitted diseases, and gives a quiz on who they think has what, which everyone routinely fails, as many diseases are not visible on women, nor on men in early stages.  Part of the plea bargain includes getting sexually transmitted disease testing, including HIV.  There is information about general sexual hygiene.  One doctor actually joked during his safe sex talk that “god gave you two hands,” as a reminder that the only way to absolutely avoid sexually transmitted diseases is to not have sexual contact with another person, especially someone who by trade is in contact with so many others.  And he of course reminded them that many wives and pregnant women become HIV-positive through their husband’s unsafe practices, so they need to stop thinking of this practice as something they can sneak off and do with no consequences.

A psychologist who works with sex addicts gives information about the psychology of addiction, and how the compulsive behaviors that we routinely use to harm ourselves and others are all addictions.  It could be drugs, or gambling, or pornography, or anything else.  They are things we come back to again and again in order to mask our pain, our loneliness, our isolation, our fear, our impotence.  But none of the addictions will make those feelings go away, so we have to keep going back to the addiction to escape our feelings, to dissociate from ourselves, until we finally get brave enough to seek help and look at our underlying problems.  And only then do we have a chance to become whole.  “Even if nobody ever finds out what you are up to, bottom line, you have to be able to look yourself in the mirror.”

The facilitator comes forward between each presentation and tries to engage the johns in thoughtful discussion.  She also shows a film where different workers talk about their struggles to get out of the trade.  Some of them disparage the men they have serviced, and laugh about what losers they consider these needy, greedy, socially isolated men.  One says she has daydreamed at work about stabbing the john in the gut and just watching his intestines pour out of him.   One talks about wondering now that she is sober and off the streets what kind of a person would actually wake up a drugged out unkempt woman sleeping under cardboard and tell her he wants sex.  She showed the alley where she used to sleep and just shook her head.  The film tries to show a human face to their suffering.  I wonder how many of the johns can see it.

The retired sex worker who is running one of the classes talks a lot about the dangers to the johns in the hopes that if nothing else their own narcissism might induce them to care a little .  She told them she herself always carried a knife after the first time she got beat up and that most workers have signals for the pimp to come in and how sometimes the john will get beat up or robbed.  Nowadays they can also get filmed or recorded, or followed home.  This is not the fun stuff we see in the movies, she tells them.  Believe me, I have been there.  Please believe me.  I am not the only one at risk out there.

One sex worker told that she keeps her undies bundled up in her hand in a little ball, so that as frequently happens when the john finishes and suddenly pushes her out of the car and slams the door, she won’t lose so many pairs of underwear.  This is not the movies.

Some of the statistics shared by the human trafficking expert still haunt me .  It is hard to fathom the terror and isolation of young people transported across state lines, let alone the globe, and forced into sex work.  And then there are all the local kids who are somehow vulnerable to it.  Lots start out just as runaways and end up never being able to get home.  Some have no homes to go to.  They fall prey to the larger concerns where millions are made off the backs of the youth.  Kids as young as 12 and 13 are given fake ID and transported across state lines to work in Vegas or other areas.  It stops most of them from getting home and keeps them in the business as they also get into drugs and get caught in the life.  But the number that hit me the hardest was the average number of tricks a typical  pimped out sex worker is supposed to come up to in a day.  Most men guess around 3 or 4.  The actual average was 22 to 25 a day.

Defense attorneys routinely tell me that these stats cannot be true – the police just want to “cast everyone as a victim”.  All I can say is that would be wonderful if it were true.  I would love it if the photos I saw were not real.  I wish all the stories I hear of abuse could be made up, and all human trafficking were just people coming willingly for good safe jobs.  I would love it if the sex worker who was stabbed to death in my town last week by a man who claimed to love her had not suffered such a very common fate, since for sex workers the top three causes of death are murder, overdose, and suicide.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the gamut of sex work from pornography to strip clubs to sex on the street were really just fun and carefree, victimless crimes, like certain people want us to believe?  God, I would love for that to be true. That would make me much happier than the unanswerable questions that weigh like a stone upon my heart.


I was driving along smoking and suddenly the lit cigarette fell between the driver’s seat and the truck door right onto the carpet!  I couldn’t just drive and have it catch fire so I just innocently pulled over to a parking lot. I found the cigarette and put it out.  I didn’t know it was a prostitution area, so when a woman came up to my window, well naturally I just wondered what she wanted.  Well, when she asked me if I wanted sex for money, I didn’t know what to say!  I was raised to be polite to ladies, and I thought it would be rude to just say no.  That might hurt her feelings.  So instead, I decided to just tell a white lie.  That’s why when she asked for 50, I told her I only had 35.  I was trying to be polite.  When I tried to tell the cop he just laughed at me. But I was really just trying to be a gentleman. I’ve never turned down a lady.  That would be rude.

I was at a store and this gal came up to my car and started talking to me.  I thought she looked kind of familiar so I figured oh, she must the new girlfriend of my friend that was with him at that party I was at.  So when she said, how about sex and can you pay forty, I jokingly – and of course it was just a joke – I thought SHE was joking so I was joking back at her! – I said, can I pay half that because I come really fast.  It will just take a minute.  Well (smile) I mean, I’m a young and healthy guy in my prime.  You can SEE I was joking, right?  I mean, come on, you know what I mean, huh?  I wouldn’t get a half-price kind of deal!  Not that I have to pay for it.  But you know what I mean.  I was just joking around with the lady I thought I had met at a party.  And then for no reason I just got arrested.  It was a big huge misunderstanding!

I was going to get my car tabs renewed and this lady ran up to my window and asked if I wanted sex.  Well, I wasn’t thinking about it, I was just minding my business.  But she was so pretty!  And I think it isn’t fair that you use such pretty women cops to pretend to be prostitutes.  I wouldn’t have agreed to sex for money if she hadn’t come up to the window looking like that.  I wasn’t even thinking about it.  Isn’t that entrapment, or something?  I mean, I wasn’t soliciting her; she was soliciting me.

I cannot believe I got arrested!  I was just going into a store and I saw a woman crying and in distress and I thought, well, poor thing, she must be in trouble.  Maybe she is on drugs, maybe her boyfriend kicked her out, but I’ll bet she needs a place to stay tonight.  This is an emergency!  So that’s why I went up to her and told her why doesn’t she come home with me and spend the night, and when she then offered sex and named a price, I suddenly got arrested for no reason.  I was just trying to help her out!  If you could have seen her, you would have wanted to take her home, well I mean.. you know.

I saw a gal outside the gas station and she was so cute.  I was just trying to make conversation but you know English is not my first language.  So I was trying to flirt and I said something like you must get a lot of dates, do you want a date, and then suddenly I got arrested.  What is in the police report?  Is that was it says?  Oh, fucking?  She said I was asking about  how much for fucking?  No, I don’t think so.  That must be a mistake.  I might have said how much, but I don’t think I said fucking.  I wouldn’t have said that.