If you like sex…that’s okay. If you love women…that’s normal. If you are a good man, listen up. If you are a man who thinks it is okay to buy women for sex…this is to you. If you think that you are paying for sex in a “mutually beneficial” arrangement, think again. If you think you are “helping me” in any way…I am directing this at you. If you are a evil man who treats women with disrespect, feel free to disregard. This is letter to all of those johns who consider themselves a “good” man.
I have met so many of you. Too many. In all shapes and sizes. Old men, young men. Fat, skinny, married, single, drug dealers, lawyers, police officers, I have seen them all. You are not special. Not one of you. I do not understand how you justify yourself. You think putting your penis inside of me is okay because you are kind. Those places are the most private part of me. And even though they are for sale, they were never meant to be. I never wanted them to be. Could you ever see your daughter in this business? No? Guess what, I am someone’s daughter, too.
That money that you give me? You’re not paying me. You’re paying some man just as disgusting as you are. You buy me like property in a store. You compare my looks to the looks of the girls next to me and decide that I am most your type. Before you bought my like a doll behind closed plastic did you ever once stop to think that there is a human being with a mind, heart and soul of their own behind that body that you lust for so much?
You think you are okay. You didn’t hit me or rob me. You didn’t roofie my drink. You asked me how my day was going. Maybe you asked me how I got caught up in this…here’s a hint, I lied to you. You stroked my hair and gave me a back massage. Maybe even got me to smile. Here’s another hint…I’m the best actress you have ever met.
But you never asked about my scars. You never asked about the bruises, and the burns. Or maybe you did. Some of you ask if someone is hurting me. Did you ever take a look in the mirror as you asked this? Because there is someone right there. You are the sweet, kind rapist. A victimless crime, you say? The damage is unreversable. Damage that you as well as the man after you and the man after him all helped to cause. You call yourself my friend…you bring me gifts from time to time. I hate you all the same. My smile allows you to trick yourself. Why do you think they call it a trick anyway?
Sure, maybe you lost a few dollars. I had to dish out something too. I had to swallow my pride. Fake a laugh. And pretend that I don’t feel like it’s rape every time you penetrate me. You think because you hold me after that it doesn’t hurt so bad…but it’s even worse. Don’t hold me like I am yours because I am someone else’s. He treats me like property, just like you. And he paid a lot more for me than you did. He is probably hiding in the next room over. Your warm, sweet embrace makes me even more sick than when you were pounding away at my body…and more importantly, my sanity.
Everybody loves me, but nobody loves me. Do you understand that? I know you do. Because you love me, but you don’t love me. You have fooled yourself into thinking that your sweet demeanor makes you less harmful. And that since I smile or laugh, that you are not so bad. You think I enjoyed your company just as much as you enjoyed mine.
You say you are a “good man”. The words I speak could never pertain to you. Open your ears. And next time you meet a girl like me…ask yourself not how she got there, but who put her there. Who is benefiting from her having sex with you…because it is not her. If you look in her eyes and don’t see your daughter than you are just as sick as the man before you. and the man who most certainly will come after. If you have convinced yourself that your actions are warranted and that you are not hurting anyone…than the trick worked on you after all. Welcome to the Game, buddy.
That Girl You Say You Never Hurt