Prostitutes Saved My Marriage
And yet, I really don’t feel he’s ever cheated on me
Mr. Roosevelt and I love each other very much. In fact we’re celebrating our first decade together this year. We don’t plan on having children but are happily raising our pets together. Since we can cook together without fighting, I’d say we’re a successful couple.
We’ve also got non-traditional ideas about monogamy.
As a wife, and as a teacher, my definition of cheating is the same:
Cheating is playing outside the agreed-upon rules of engagement.
If I allow you to use the textbook but not get the answer from a classmate, cheating is texting another student about the answer to question four. But looking things up in the textbook is perfectly acceptable in accordance with the stated rule.
If I allow you to see a prostitute for protected sex, cheating is lying to me about that encounter, or having unprotected sex with her, or taking her out to dinner outside of contractual time. Basically, be honest with me, and her, and use protection — and we’re ok.
As we agreed.
I want to point out that this is what works for my partner/spouse and myself. This doesn’t work for everyone.
For some people, flirting with someone counts as cheating. This is why talking to your partner is always the best thing you can do. If you’re open about what you want, you are being honest both with yourself and your partner. Though you may not get what you want, still by being judiciously honest, you increase the trust between you and the person you’re with.
So, how did we wind up agreeing that he could — no, should — see a prostitute? Or three?
Well, it started with a diagnosis of depression on my 18th birthday. And then more labels: severe depression, chronic depression, treatment-resistant depression… and eventually a 72-hour psychiatric hold. (In the United States, at least in my state, you can be held for 72 hours, even involuntarily, if you’re deemed a threat to yourself or others.)
I’ve tried a ton of medications, and surprise — most of them have at least the risk of sexual side-effects.
Depression, too, has sexual side-effects. Hating yourself often includes hating both your body and your mind, and no one wants to share something they hate with someone they love. Plus, feeling good, relaxing, being comfortable in one’s own skin — these feelings are hard to come by while depressed.
So we got to the point where we rarely had sex, and on more than one tragic occasion, we tried to start and I wound up crying. No one wants that.
I still deeply loved my husband, and desperately wanted his needs to be met, but was utterly failing to provide for myself — much less him.
I don’t actually remember who first mentioned the option of a prostitute. Probably him, knowing him.
My husband is a feminist, a man who once chose to work at an abortion clinic, and a man who loves pornography. He believes that sex work is work, and it can be ethically consumed. We agree on basically all of these things.
He promised to do everything he could to ensure he didn’t get in legal trouble, and to ensure the sex worker was working for herself, voluntarily.
Once, I went to bed early, and he entertained his guest in his man cave. Or her cave, that is! (Sorry.)
All in all, he saw three prostitutes over the course of a few years. The average session was $300 per hour. No kissing on the mouth, any fucking required protection.
Ironically, since the pandemic started, my mental health has stabilized, and I’m in a much better place now that I’m not working full time. (Sleep, medication, therapy, exercise, and journaling all have a role to play.)
I’m still open to ideas of non-monogamy, even though I’m currently able to be sexually present for my husband. Now, though, I think we can find potential partners through social media, apps, or even our social circle, and don’t need to pay for it. No takers so far, though.
So What?
So, if I’ve merely managed to titillate and entertain — is that so bad? Hopefully, though, my definition of cheating — behavior outside the agreement — is something that resonates with you. It’s a helpful framework for preventing arguments before they have a chance to happen.
Madame Roosevelt is the naughty secret identity of an educator in the United States. She’s proud to publish in Eros & Ethics, edited by Hazlit. Follow them all for more content that makes you think!
