An orgasm in the Nineteenth Century, which in some areas has lasted better than one hundred and seventy years as of this writing, was more than a breach of etiquette. It was taken as evidence of, and still is, in many quarters, or squares, moral defect. A woman who lay alone in her bed, lonely, wanting her husband to come home and touch her, was not a good woman. Ladies endured their husbands, and husbands, for the most part, endured being endured. A girl would have had to be a barmaid before she could admit to herself that she enjoyed a good fuck.

Those who did not endure being endured presumably sought other releases from sexual tension, doubtless most commonly masturbation and, less commonly, extramarital relations, commercial or otherwise. It seems likely that neither of these recourses was ideally satisfactory. There is, of course, more to be said for masturbation than is commonly said for it. For one thing, it has more dignity than being endured. It is less humiliating. The extramarital relation, on the other hand, owning deservedly higher status in the locker room, is hygienically and emotionally dangerous. Disease, even today, is a not inconsiderable risk, and there is nothing one-uppy or glorious in contracting it. It is not a badge of manhood but a misfortune. From an objective point of view doubtless the spirals of the Andromeda nebula and the spirals of the syphilis bacillus are equally glorious. But one would have to be a Spinoza to notice that the syphilis bacillus is a perfect syphilis bacillus. From the subjective point of view, which happens to be ours, among the many glories of the universe, the bacillus does not rank high. It is, of course, entitled to its own opinion. At any rate, there seems nothing desirable about being loaded with them. Emotionally, the commercial relation is generally impersonal and abortive. You must get out of bed and pull your pants on because the next fellow, on the other side of the door, is waiting. The girl who has collected your twenty dollars is not really in love with you. If you had not given her twenty dollars she might not even have permitted you to make love to her. Prostitution doesn’t seem very rewarding to the customer. It is probably less rewarding to the salesperson. The twenty-dollar bill, or the fifty-dollar bill, is cheap. It has probably, in the long run, cost her more.

But why is there prostitution?

The most likely reasons, though not altogether sufficient, would be that the average wife is a bore and a crummy lay. This is not to suggest that the average husband is all that great. Perhaps he is why she is bored.