This text is funnier than you think. And many will feel caught.
One thing is certain: it takes two to get pregnant.
In this column I do not express opinions. I do not write opinion pieces – others are better at that than I. I will not misuse the incredible privilege of being able to tell a newspaper my opinion by seriously availing myself of it. My opinions are for the most part unqualified and personal, no more important than the opinion of any of your neighbours. I describe my views in the literal sense: views and insights, glimpses. Of a world you will likely never see with your own eyes.
My personal reasons to be thankful for the right to abortion are obvious: I am of the female sex. The sex, that is, that carries the damage of a pregnancy, for every pregnancy means first and foremost damage and existential danger, quite apart from the happiness that can grow from it. For many happiness doesn’t enter the discussion.
Some of my friends are mothers; some of my escort colleagues are mothers as well. I stand in awe of them. But I am also in awe of my friends who have had to endure an abortion. I feel disdain for people who involve themselves in this most intimate of matters, especially when they don’t have a uterus. And the nerve of the standard line at counselling centres, “You mother didn’t abort you,” I respond to thusly: Had you had one, I wouldn’t judge you.
No surprise
He was Catholic. At least I assumed so, he worked for the Catholic church. You’re probably astounded that card-carrying Catholics come to a prostitute like me to buy a sexual service. Haha, joking aside, you’re not surprised at all! Nor am I, of course. A good person with his dark urges, a sad sinner in the weakness of his flesh, etc. What’s the use of confession, penance, and divine grace? In no other religion is the transgression of rules so built in as the Catholic religion! It needs miracles, and the biggest miracle is always forgiveness anew, the miracle of everything and everybody who can be forgiven. God grows in his tasks: more sin, more forgiveness! Catholicism for me has more to do with esotericism than esotericism itself. Its believers get excited about their saints’ bodies agonized to death and operate an inflationary cult around the pieces of the dismembered bodies to which they then ascribe voodoo-like powers. The hocus pocus surrounding the Immaculate Conception and the bodily resurrection evokes what the Church itself calls witchcraft, or a Siegfried and Roy magic show. Its biggest enemy is not the devil or temptation, which are part and parcel of the big show, but rather rationality. A theatrically colourful religion with a penchant for drama and entertainment value not to be scoffed at!
It’s a pity that the punchline always lands at the expense of women like me who take their right to bodily self-determination all too literally.
There would generally be far fewer unwanted pregnancies if contraception wasn’t such a problem. They always say, indeed in almost every discussion about abortion, yeah, why can’t you stupid women use proper contraception! I, however, know very well: conservative anti-abortionists are also opponents of condoms.
Righteous rubber
This Catholic bloke was, logically, not good to speak to about condoms. Again, you may be wondering what he was looking for with a prostitute, and again, I must correct myself—you probably aren’t at all surprised.
An individual is not being outed and pilloried here. It is all too common for men to ask me if it’s okay without a condom. Compulsory condoms, period. After all, at my high price they should have expected it. A-ha! They expected that at such a high price they have the right to infect me, or when in doubt themselves, with a life-threatening disease, or to conceive a child with me – I beg you, for just 1,000 euros? Hardly enough. Admittedly, what must be included in this price is my health, which I contractually guarantee. And so that remains as such, so I continue to be in great health, as I have been in the eight years I’ve been sleeping with completely strange men and never had an infection, I must insist on condoms. In the interest of my future customers, who shall find me in my original state, just like you. Or maybe the gentlemen deem me too expensive because I am only meant for a one-off use, like a Kleenex for their various bodily fluids? But no, they pull out before. They just want to “feel me more” – and always their hangdog look, as below their erection cries the first tear of desire…
I can understand this with the older clients, who know condoms from a time when they were so unwieldly and firm like their housewife mothers’ rubber gloves. Today there are marvellously thin, perfectly fitting condoms. It depends on the quality, of course, but I come very well equipped. In my delicate pink satin pouch, I have various kinds and sizes, only the most expensive stuff, top quality good materials! Yet the sight of the small square packaging alone for some men causes an implosion of their masculine pride, to put it tactfully. No, no, better without a condom, or wait a minute, more kissing… The scallywags think that if I’m properly aroused first I’d simply forget the condoms in my ecstasy! Or they feign a latex allergy. For this diagnosis, by the way, a real man doesn’t need a doctor, he knows best himself. Astonishingly, latex is only a problem in the form of condoms; they’d be fine with latex clothing on me! When I enquire further as to what the symptoms of such a latex allergy would be what comes out is that a latex allergy is when contact with or merely the sight of a condom leads to erectile dysfunction. One learns so much in this job! I always ask if the gentleman has brought special latex-free condoms. Of course, he never has – it’s not his responsibility, he likes it best entirely without. When I triumphantly pull out my latex-free condoms, a strange resentment ensues. Baffling. I’m only trying to live! Particularly when I wake up to the fact that these condom refuseniks have already tried that several times with colleagues, quite possibly successfully.
Most are thankful when it’s over. It was better that way. Because you, well, you’re a tart, so you never know. My pleasure! Yet I know that this isn’t purely a problem of prostitution. These men never have sex with a condom, not even when they don’t pay money for it.
A divine gift
The Catholic staunchly believed in his inherent right. He insisted on preserving something I could not for the life of me give him: the woman shall be the thankful earth, made for receiving the seed! He saw me as a kind of bed.
I explained to him that I saw it very very differently. My body is intended for all sorts of things; I intend them, in fact, not third parties – but most certainly not to swell like a pod to then burst and be harvested. I am not the involucre of society. My womb is the hormone factory that ensures my beauty and my wellbeing. And this chest is not a trough or a filling station for infants, no more than yours, my esteemed gentleman. It is not there to engorge with secretions for babies to suck out. It’s there to be sucked on willy-nilly and fondled, and while I’m here, give it a try! That’s why I’m here! But not for you to sow any seed in me, just so we’re quite clear.
But listen, he said. The female body is the biggest miracle of creation. It is meant to bring forth new life. So it can never belong to you alone, but primarily the child that grows inside it, the children you shall bear. The woman dedicates her body to creation. A child is a gift, but the woman gifts her body to her family and her children.
Here we have the crux of the matter: a woman’s body shall not belong to her. She is, thus, suffrage or not, disenfranchised across the board, for she is not allowed to be a sovereign being. That’s how it used to be. That’s how it still is today. And anti-abortionists want to keep it that way. It’s not about the children at all, in whom they heartily lose interest once born. Especially when they’re girls.
Don’t be afraid, he said wooingly, you are such a beautiful girl!
He was healthy, and that I was healthy he would believe and confidently accept the risk.
And if you get pregnant that is a divine gift, the greatest blessing of all!
I love pregnant women!
He even said when I’m heavy with child, with a sphere for a belly and full breasts, he would definitely want to see me. I wouldn’t have to worry anymore, you can’t get doubly pregnant, hahaha.
Haha, and you’d also pay alimony?
Come off it, he said sternly, I’m not going to let you take advantage of me!
Hahaha, I laughed once more, snatched my things, my fee, and left the hotel room.
I’m donating the money to AIDS orphans, I shouted at him before slamming the door.