Nairobi Nights: Why Do You Sleep With Me?

There are two questions I always want to ask my clients. However, most of the times I don’t get to because if I did, I’d cross a delicate line in the client girl relationship; that of minding my own business. I have no right, moral or otherwise, to go poking my nose in the private motives of my clients. Yet some of these motivations are of interest to me both for professional and private reasons. The top most question in my head wherever I am with a man is “Why are you sleeping with a prostitute?” There is no way I am able to frame this question without seeming to be standing on a higher ethical ground, of which I am not. Then again the benefits of answering such a question may not be obvious to a man. This is as compared to something like “Which position do you like best?” Nonetheless knowing why a man sleeps with me satisfies some curiosity inside me. Getting the answer also helps me align my spirits to what happens between the legs; this way I try able to give the man a sex session that corresponds to his deep needs. Also In some cases the answer reminds me of my relevance and gives me the morale to dress up on a cold evening and hit the Street.

The second question that I want to ask my client is “Why did you pick me, and not any other girl?” This is relatively easy to ask but awkward because when I do, I end up sounding like I have confidence and self esteem issues, and I am seeking to have my ego massaged. Certainly I have no confidence and self esteem issues but then it’s only natural once in a while to want someone to make a honest statement that will boost your sense of worth. Thus I ask this question hoping a man wont say ” I picked you because you were nearest the door of my car“, “ I picked you because your price was lowest” or  ” I picked you because you were freezing in the cold” or such other statements which hint at convenience and sympathy rather than something exceptional about my appearance or personality. Hence it does me a lot of good when a man says “I picked you because of your panache” or “the smooth way you puff your cigarettes was a turn on”, you know those kinds of sentences that touch on my self.

In as much as I don’t get to always ask either of the above questions I have always believed I know all the possible reasons that make men sleep with prostitutes. That was until I chanced on an essay titled The System of Collecting a month or so go. I was made aware of a new kind of man who I call the collector. Though the essay didn’t expressly say so, this is a man who has a list in his head or physically somewhere of the kind of women he endeavors to sleep with. Such a list may include; dreadlocked woman, professor over 50 years, with a bad sense of fashion, loud mouthed, very big ass, small ass, tomboy, illiterate, poor, smoker, deep voiced etc. Every time he sleeps with a woman fitting one of these attributes he crosses her from the list.

According to the essayist “A given woman stops being a woman and becomes no more than a vagina, a couple of breasts, a belly, a pair of thighs, a voice, a face – according to preference. Henceforth she is reduced to a set whose separate signifying elements are one by one ticked off by desire…..”

Well the fact that I am a prostitute means that I already may be the above woman, but consciously thinking a man will cross me off some list after a session, leaves me in a nasty mood; feeling worthless. I know how silly it sounds for me to set some sort standards for myself when I am already considered to have sunk to one of humanities lows, but hey that is how I feel.

A collector may find prostitutes easy targets because the dealing is so business like and does not involve a chase. Then there are all kinds among us. We compete on uniqueness. We try to sound exotic by the way we talk and use of rare nicknames. At the risk of sounding proud I know for a fact there is one thing quite unique about me. The first time you talk or see me you note it. It’s not something many girls have. Whether the thing is good or bad will depend on an individual, but this makes me sure one of those odd men with lists is looking for my kind.

Getting crossed out from a list is my new fear. The problem is I have found no foolproof way to know whether a man is a collector or not. Not that I would do much if I knew, but at least if I proved he is not I would feel good. For the last two weeks I have been giving my number to clients I suspect to be collectors rather easily. If a man does not call or send a text I assume he is one.Of all those I have given my number none has gotten in touch with me. So now though I try to keep my head high I feel like an item, crossed off some list. It could be also I am being too eccentric or losing my mind.

Writer: Sue