By sheer definition alone, a prostitute is defined as a person who receives some means of payment  for sexual intercourse or other sexual acts,  generally as a regular occupation.

A girlfriend and I had this conversation not very long ago.  She and I were joking about the fact that we, as SAHMs, often negotiate for the things we want and need for sex (or just the sheer promise of sex).  During this very conversation, we suddenly came to the realization that we were, in essence, prostituting ourselves on a regular basis.   Me and my girlfriend call one another “hooker bitch” all the time.  Now, it would seem, that title is coming back to haunt us.

I began to look back on all the times that I’ve over-spent (WAAAAY over-spent) on something and before telling the head penis person who made the other penises, I would perform various acrobatic sex acts as a means to settle him down and lull him in to a semi-coma and keep him from murdering me while I sleep.  He’ll say he wants a blow job….I’ll say “I want a new vaccuum…let’s make a deal”.    When he helps with the kids, I “reward” him with horizontal interactions.  The bigger the need or thing that I covet, the more enhanced the seductions become.

While no money is TECHNICALLY changing hands at the “point of sale”, money is generally an underlying factor, no doubt.  If I don’t get what I WANT, he generally doesn’t get what HE WANTS either.  I know this seems kinda lame and unreasonable, but as women, we know exactly how to get what we want.  We know what hot buttons to push, both real and perceived.  And many men make it very simple for us to do so.  They are generally lead by the very need to experience any type of sexual contact that they will pretty much say anything….do anything…..agree to anything.

Now, very much unlike an ACTUAL hooker, I am not doing this to feed my six starving kids or a nasty drug habit.  I am not generally high (although I AM sometimes highly intoxicated) nor am I answering to a pimp whom I effectionately refer to as “daddy”.  I am not stomping the pavement in the blistering cold dressed only in some thigh highs and a bra.  But for every one of these things, I can name something I’ve done that sounds equally hooker-ish…..even if only HOUSEWIFE hooker-ish.

As a stay at home momma, I don’t “technically” HAVE an income.  Yeah….yeah!  I know I still contribute abundantly and if I WERE PAID a salary, it would be a positively phenomenal fee.  But the fact of the matter is, in most situations such as mine, the husband is doing the actual earning and therefore, has the lions share of the say in how a large chunk of the money is spent.  The money remaining after bills and daily expenses and whatnot is, to be sure, both of ours.  But when I want something that doesn’t seem to be a actual necessity, you can be sure I will likely be putting out in order to get it.  Shoes, purses, clothing, a new ‘do.  Those things cost money that I don’t techinically have.  And they are, each and every single item, worth the 30 minutes to an hour it takes me to make the hubby happy.

And if you think about it…..a hooker doesn’t even really make the money I do.   What’s the going rate for a 20 minute blow job on the street these days??? Or 30 minutes of penetration???  Because if I put in those same 20 or 30 minutes on the same thing, I can make in STUFF the equivalent of about $100 to $200.  Not bad for a days work….and I didn’t have to get into a strangers car and risk my life to make it.

In retrospect, had I known I would be pimping MYSELF out for the last 10 years, I would have created a chart detailing the goodies available and a detailed pricing agreement.  Granted, it would have likely been on a spreadsheet and had pretty pink flowery shit in the margins.  It would have been half joke and half serious.  And I would be one rich hooker bitch right about now.