February 06, 2018:. “PRETTY FOR FREE”
In the beginning of this century there was a part of urban Honolulu that was a virtual open air 24 hour sex market. In “Town” sex workers were women and men dressed like women (colloquially known as “mahus”) who were addicted to crack, crystal methamphetamine (ice), heroin (boy), alcohol, gambling, or some combination of all of these diversions. I never saw young kids on the run from abusive homes contrary to what I had read about areas with high rates of prostitution. I saw people old enough to make their own decisions looking for the quickest way to get the next fix. Money was never saved but entirely consumed by the addiction(S). Once they were zero balanced they’d go back to the “track” or “stroll” to wait for a car to pull over. According to my wristwatch I waited about a minute before a car pulled over driven by someone who had money for me. Not much money. High dollar girls worked in Waikiki and turned the entire $200/date over to my pimps, who seemed to be mostly black for some reason I could not fathom. People with addictions are terrible providers. Our pimps weren’t people. Our addictions were the pimps to whom we turned all of our $20-$100/date. But I digress.
The money was so quick and easy the 30 or so providers who walked the street back then did not compete with each other. Each of us made between $300-$500 a day, every day. We just had to be out there. As far as I knew men had no system for sharing information about the quality of providers in the days before ubiquitous internet access and participation. Many girls stole and word did not seem you travel because they continued to work. I did not steal but I did not try very hard during the car date. I’d “go away inside of my head” once we pulled over to a concealed spot within a 30 second drive. A brief 15 minutes later I was freshening my lipstick and race walking to spend my money. When my purchase was consumed in the domicile of the man of the moment who shared my interests and shared my product. My welcome wore out when the stuff ran out. If I wanted a temporary roof over my head I had to get enough money to have something to offer someone else and maintain my altered state. Back to the stroll to make money again, my days, years, life, an endless cycle: zero balancing myself, hustling the money with various antics and adventures, spending all my money with nothing tangible to show for my efforts. For some reason I mostly enjoyed “The Life.”
One night I was in my favorite spot sitting on a low brick wall near a facility that hosted anger management classes for men with domestic violence convictions. I liked my perch because I had had a book in my hand since I was age 3. I felt more like my true self when I was enjoying classic American literature while I waited for a “date.” I read by the glow of the streetlight while watching the traffic in both directions. A two lane street of slow moving traffic doing about 30 mph. The through way was lined by apartments on one end, terminating with a mid sized Safeway supermarket and a Longs (CVS) drugstore on the other. Traffic didn’t move so fast that drivers missed seeing providers and it was easy for a driver to pull over to give a girl a ride. If the traffic was too slow every driver’s actions might’ve been embarrassingly obvious to some who would not want others to know their hobbies.
The street light illuminated my face, out of which my sparkle-lined sunken, sleep deprived eyes sought to lock on the eyes of male drivers. My practice was to make eye contact, then gesture with a clear but not exaggerated tilt of the head to signal for the driver to pull over. If the driver was agreeable he would slow significantly and pull over to give me a chance to saunter up to the passenger side door. If the window was down I greeted the guy and asked for a ride.
One night I saw an older man making a beeline on foot to an older provider. Confident that he would prefer me to a woman about 55 years old, I put myself in his path. Sometimes when guys approached on foot they lived within walking distance. Better than a car date. More comfortable, guaranteed privacy so no cop could roll up. I would take advantage of the shower, I had thought, already making plans for the resources I expected to access.
“Uncle,” I called, using the local standard respectful form of address when speaking to an older person, “Uncle, don’t you want me?” The man had his doubts.
“You? What do you know?”
I knew how to make a perfectly obvious point, that’s what I knew. “But don’t you think I’m pretty?” I was smug because I knew the answer. Or so I thought. I was about to be schooled in another even more obvious point.
“What do I have to pay you to be pretty for? You pretty right now. Pretty for free. I want her because she knows what she’s doing!” He did not permit any further discussion and I watched them leave together, envious that she was closer to her next high than I was.
Thus, I was introduced to the idea that service mattered, maybe even more than looks.

2019 Addition

I could not argue with the old man’s unassailable logic. How stupid was I? Offering him a chance to see what he was already looking at–my face and body! No, I wasn’t nude, but I wasn’t overly dressed so there wasn’t much left to the imagination. Never again did I ever tell anyone he should date me because I was pretty.


I experienced every day on the street as a referendum on my attractiveness. I wanted the men to stop their cars for me. I loved the catcalls from men driving by who didn’t intend to stop but who had seen me. I did my best to keep up appearances while bouncing from one addicted man’s low income apartment to another’s. Not so easy. On the outside, I looked good, I thought. As long as I stayed out of direct lighting and did not let anyone see me up close. My feet were dirty and bare inside of my high heels but no one could see that I was a member of the so-called “black-foot tribe” as the down and out homeless were called. The money I did not spend on rent I spent on high quality makeup. Not everyone wanted to deal with a good-looking woman. There were those men who liked the women who had confidence issues to exploit, as if he is doing her a favor just by being with her. One man said to me:

“I would not want to be with you because you are too pretty for your own good. give me a Mongoloid and she will be so happy she will suck my **** for an hour for $10. That’s my kind of girl.

Potential Client, 2002

I was not his kind of girl. Every time a car pulled over I thought it was an affirmation and I was proud of myself. I had never had affirmation from people with any consistency so I really enjoyed getting votes of confidence every day. Just goes to show, reality is in the eye of the beholder. I have never heard anyone refer to street prostitution as a “vote of confidence” for the woman. But for me, that was what I needed and that is what I experienced. I know what happened to create that terrible insecurity. More on those events later….

You think I am pretty don’t you? I needed to hear it all the time. But compliments were like hits of cocaine. The effect doesn’t last. You need another one really soon. The more you get the more you want.

A prominent NFL figure has been arrested in Florida, USA for some prostitution related offense. Are you kidding me?

If the president can’t get no h**d there’s no hope for the rest of us.

I’m shooting from the hip in this post and extracting my info from memory rather than pulling up the article. But hey, it’s the internet. I don’t have to have my facts straight. If memory serves me, there’s a strip mall in Florida that has an establishment fronting as a non-sex business, but offers sex on the d.l. The cops raided it and a prominent NFL guy caught a case. Maybe he owns the Patriots, some real football VIP.

No Sex Slavery

Let me say upfront that if those women were held in that establishment against their wills as sex slaves, I am totally against that. And yes, the police and all of the powers-that-be need to move in and help those women. The rest of my post is going to be written under the assumption that the women were not sex slaves but were making a living.

Are you kidding me?

Please tell me that Florida has no unsolved murders, etc. I do not want to think that limited time and resources had been devoted to halting mutually beneficial arrangements rather than solving real crimes and keeping the public safe. The real reason behind the police action: people who are in no way involved or impacted wouldn’t like it if they knew what was happening.

The very rich are different from you and me. Here’s an example.

I’m reminded of the Bill Clinton situation. My beloved late friend, Swann, had been a medic in Vietnam and he spent his well earned retirement in hedonism. When he wasn’t doing something he was talking about it. Of the Clinton cigar scenario. He said:

The whole world is laughing at us right now. If the president of the United States can’t get no h**d there’s no hope for the rest of us!

Philosophy about extra-marital sex and the POTUS by James Swann

Swann believed and I concurred, that men behaving badly was the most desirable state of being for most men. Why do Americans pretend otherwise, especially the men. I am not saying that every man would have visited the Florida strip mall, or used the oval office for shenanigans, but I am saying that just about every man would want to do so.

“There ought to be a law”

Have you ever heard the expression “there ought to be a law”? It means that there is a problem in society, a bunch of people are doing something way too much and we have to stop them because the desired actions are hurtful. Look at the laws regarding sex and you will see a list of things that people really want to do but for some reason are forbidding themselves and others

I said earlier people wouldn’t like knowing about the sex but maybe the disapproval is rooted in jealousy. When this list does not involve hurting another person but instead involves feeling pleasure, I have to ask myself why are the men in our society denying themselves the sex they want?

Laws are the embodiment of lies we tell ourselves about what kind of society we want. How many of us really want to engage in the forbidden strip mall visit? Or at the very least, read about it?

Now that heroin addiction is a white problem and not a black problem, we are told a new story about heroin.

I watched an hour long news story, hosted by that guy from Dateline who lured the sexual predators to homes with the promise of a 13 year old playmate. Then, surprise! The girl would disappear after leading the perv to the kitchen and out would pop the journalist and camera crew to question the perv about his motives Very amusing and purely entertaining to me because the subject had nothing to do with my life. The story I was watching tonight was not so amusing because it had everything to do with me. The Dateline guy was talking about the unprecedented heroin epidemic among the “suburban” population. “Suburban” is media code for “White.” The story went on to say that heroin addiction was at one time thought to be a problem of “other people” from “broken homes” in the “inner city” hotspots like “back alleys.” All of those terms are code for “black.” In case the audience could not crack the code, the story flashed half second pictures of “minority” neighborhoods and “suburban” split level homes. What the correspondent endeavored to communicate was something he wanted the audience to understand without having to come right out and say exactly what he meant. I will come right out and say it. Heroin was thought to be a black problem, especially a poor black problem. No one really cared because no one cared about blacks, especially poor blacks. Now heroin is a white problem and that reality is a shock because one of the ways whites were presumed to be superior to blacks is their immunity to drug addiction. Many whites are dying from a black problem and there is so much shame in this reality that many in the white community have turned a blind eye to the addiction problem. Overdoses? Oh well. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Even whites don’t care about other whites if they want to act like the worst of blacks. White family members impacted by addiction are trying to reframe addiction as an illness rather than an immorality. We should all care about addiction now because things start to be different when they start to be white.

I would respect any news outlet who will come out and say the truth in plain speech and leave code words out of it. I know how to crack that code and quite frankly I have grown sick of hearing yet again that people who look like me, don’t matter for one reason or another. People wonder why I am so mean sometimes. I say, if they understood what the world presents to me about what it thinks of me, the real question is not why am I so mean but why am I so nice?

That demographic shift is responsible for redefining addiction as a disease and not a character flaw

Hooker Life Hack: How to charge for your services

Value determination is tricky for prostitutes unless they know men.

Determine the price of your services when the perceived value is highest.

–Kenneth, former client & almost s.o.


When is the perceived value highest? Hint: do not count on a man to feel grateful to you after sex. Gratitude would interfere with the client’s desire to flee the scene as fast as possible. From what I hear, men usually want to get away from the woman asap whenever they have sex, not only with providers. Click the above link for the answer to the price determination question.

Hooker Life Hack #15–Beware of sexually explicit language sent in a text by a man

There are unexpected signs that he is not going to show up. Here is one of those signs–vulgar language.

Hooker Life Hacks: World’s newest everyday wisdom from the world’s oldest profession, by Caroleena, Ivy League Educated X-Streetwalker

Wednesday, January 30, 2019, 11:02 a.m. Hawaii Time

Hooker Life Hack #15–One For Sure, Yet Surprising, Sign he is totally lying when he says he is going to meet up with you

When you are making plans to spend time with a male there are signs that he will not show up at the appointed hour.  I was surprised to learn through experience that when I was in the process of setting up appointments through a phone call or text, the man did not intend to show up if he used vulgar and sexually explicit language.  I had imagined that if it was unspoken but understood that we would engage in adult behavior, I should reasonably expect suggestive or even lewd language from the male as a sort of warm up.  I thought, "we are going to do something x rated so he is getting warmed up bad language." I was wrong. Any time a man uses sexually explicit language outside of s sexual situation, he is being disrespectful. The language shows he has a low opinion if the woman with whom he is communicating.


 This lesson is one I had to learn from experience because I never would have imagined that sex talk before a sexual encounter was a bad sign.  Maybe it is because we didn't know each other.  Outside of the encounter, with its physical intimacy, the interaction was still sort of formal because we are not friends.  Hmmm...something to ponder.

100% of the time a man used vulgar, sexually explicit language when he texted or spoke on the phone with me to make plans to meet, he was being dishonest. He always stood me up, without notice.

0–The Number of Men who Showed up for appointments after using foul language toward me in texts or over the phone. ZERO

Explicit language has an appropriate time and place but if he uses this language to set up an x-rated rendezvous, he is not serious about following through with the plans.  After all, keeping appointments is a form of respect and his purpose for making contact is to enjoy verbally abusing a provider, not to spend time.
Men always want sex but they do not always speak in a sexually explicit manner. Men reserve that kind of inappropriateness for women they do not respect.

The take away action recommendation: politely correct his language by saying you are standards for phone contact that you follow. There was one, yes only one, instance when the man did not realize how he sounded and he accepted my correction by retracting his comment with an apology. The rest of the times my gentle corrections about foul language were ignored . The men did not truly intend to meet up, but wanted the chance to talk down to a woman. Do not let him (or anyone under any circumstance) convince you that you deserve to be spoken to with vulgarity or that you should expect lewd talk because of what you have done or what you are willing to do. No good ever results from allowing someone to speak to you disrespectfully. Be sure to set the proper example with your own manner of respectful speech!