How’s THAT for a snappy title? hehee…
Since I’m depressed after watching footage of the hatred, stupidity and ominous goings-on at the Republican Convention, I’m going to write about something else.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s was on TV this week; we watched a bit of it, but it’s a bit fluffy to totally hold my interest. I read in the Radio Times, however, that due to the constraints of that era, you really don’t realise what she does for a living. It’s true – I hadn’t realised, although Holly obviously has no visible means of support. It started me thinking about the fine line that a lot of women walk…just when do you have to be honest and call yourself a whore?
*da DUMM* Did you notice the Sex And The City-style line? Could you picture me typing? lol…
Sex And The City was notable for me because it broke so many taboos. I loved it; I’d never seen a TV show where the characters discussed issues in their lives such as anal sex. “I don’t want to be the Up The Butt Girl. Men don’t marry the Up The Butt Girl.” :) Anyway, back to my subject: there was a rather thought-provoking episode where Carrie wakes up after a night with someone to find a discreet envelope of cash on the nightstand. Although offended, she kept it, thereby bringing home the knowledge that whatever else may happen, she will always, somewhere, have the knowledge of what a night with her is worth.
Don’t we all do that, to some extent? How many times did I, as a very pretty, very young, somewhat shallow and selfish girl, sleep with someone because they spent tons of cash on a dream night out? Or slept with them because I was travelling and needed a nice, convenient place to stay? Because I wanted to go somewhere exotic, or was entranced by their lifestyle?
Does that make me a prostitute? No…I wasn’t that honest. Does it mean that, at one era of my life, that I could be bought…or at least rented expensively?
If I’m honest, I have to say yes.