Yes, I have hired prostitutes on many occasions. I will pause while you gasp out loud in indignation and then tsk-tsk your moral superiority.

Done? Terrific.

I would point out that these escorts were “high-end” or “upscale,” but in truth that makes it no better or worse and it would make me even more of a hypocrite to pretend otherwise. For me it was a business transaction that worked both ways. I like sex. Alert the media. I like sex—and by sex, I mean strictly the pleasures of the flesh—a great deal. I like sex in its purest form, meaning I do not like strings or attachment or other common distractions. Myron believes that what he labels “love” or “feelings” enhances sex. I do not. I believe that those things dilute it.

Do not look into that too deeply. I do not fear commitment. I just have no interest in it.

I have never pretended otherwise. I do not lie to the women I have been with, those hired or those I’ve met and with whom I engage in what might commonly be called a one-night (often two or even three nights) stand. They understand the situation. I explain the limitations and, I hope, the joy. Many have, of course, thought that they could win me over, that once I experienced their skills in the bedroom, once I got close to them and saw how fantastic they were, I would be smitten and it would lead to more than what one might refer to as bedroom romps.

Fair enough. Give it your best shot, my sweet. I will not discourage you.

My dearest friend, Myron Bolitar, though “friend” seems an inadequate word to describe our relationship, worries about this aspect of my personality. He feels there is something “missing” inside of me. He traces it back to what my own mother did to my father. But does the origin matter? This is what I am. I am quite content this way. He claims that I don’t get it. He is wrong. I do understand the need for companionship. My favorite times are when he and I sit around together and simply discuss life or watch television or dissect a sporting event—and then, when we are done, I go to bed with a gorgeous body and, uh, gorge.

Does that sound like “something is missing” to you?

I have no interest in defending myself to the judgmental, but for the record: I am for equal rights, equal pay, equal opportunity. Feminism, by dictionary definition, is the “theory of political, economic, and social equality of the sexes.” By that definition, and almost every definition I encounter, I am a feminist.

I don’t lie to women. I don’t cheat on them. I treat every guest or employee well and with respect. They, in turn, reciprocate. Except, of course, during those inflamed moments when neither one of us wants to be treated well or with respect, if you get my obvious drift.

You may be wondering, then, why I have stopped the practice of engaging in said professional services that has worked so well for so long. The simple truth is, I worked off an illusion of consent, of a fair business practice, of a contract without duress. I have been educated to the fact that this is not always the case. Recent history, especially when you consider the plights of Patrick and Rhys, has just reiterated this point for me. There are those who feel I should have realized this many years ago, that I should have seen the abuses earlier, that I turned a blind eye due to self-interest.