Jane says…

My husband has a crush on Isabella Soprano. And I don’t really blame him. She’s pretty adorable. For a hooker.

The world is divided into two kinds of people: the people who, by virtue of interest, philosophy, values, or even merely HBO subscription status, know who Isabella Soprano is, and the people who do not.

Isabella Soprano is the pseudonym of one of the employees at the Bunny Ranch, a legal Nevada brothel featured in the HBO series, “Cat House.” Not exactly Masterpiece Theater, “Cat House” is the documentary style account of life for the employees and clients of this, apparently popular, whorehouse. I find it both fascinating and disturbing, say, like how I’d feel about watching an autopsy of a pregnant alien sea monster on high def. I sort of want to know, but the reality is pretty Ick.

Isabella is noteworthy because she’s attractive, in a very girl-next-door kind of way, while the other women who work there? Bowzer Skanks. Woof Woof. I confess to being a bit fascinated by Isabella Soprano, because she is so articulate, and cute, and seemingly normal for a..a…a…well…whore. The uneducated bleached blondes with wall eyes or the snaggle teeth or the botched tattoos? That’s more in line with my…my…my…whore schema.

I catch myself thinking, “Why is she doing this, when she could be doing something else?” The answer is, no doubt, more complicated than the answer I give myself, but probably not by too much. Girlfriend makes BANK.

So what do we think about prostitution? The arguments against legalizing prostitution are that it encourages slave sex trade, demeans and objectifies women, promotes violence against women, and actually serves to increase clandestine and illegal prostitution. Arguments for legalizing prostitution are that criminalizing prostitution is a violation of basic civil rights (the right to engage in fair and voluntary trade and labor practices), legalized prostitution cuts down on the risks of spreading disease (the favorite statistic is that there has not been one case of HIV reported/transmitted among any of the legal brothels in Nevada since legalization), and that legalized prostitution provides for the safety of prostitutes in a way that criminal prostitution cannot.

There are flaws with the arguments all around, but basically, I think that legalized prostitution is actually not such a bad deal for women. We know men are going to pay for sex whether the law allows it or not – and even at great personal risk – hello Elliot Spitzer I’m talking to you – so why not regulate it? Tax it? And empower some otherwise entirely unempowered women in the work force. In that provider-client relationship, the prostitute really does have more power; she is commanding respectable earnings and, although we might nudge nudge wink wink not really conceive of it this way, she’s working kind of hard. Doing something I certainly don’t want to do. She’s got some marketing to do in order to command high fees and bring in business. Hasn’t the Men’s Club of big business and advertising had its way with women to earn their big bucks long enough that a little turn-around is really fair play?

My only real objection to legalizing, or even normalizing, prostitution in the way that the marriage between the sex and entertainment industries threatens to is the effect that the hypersexualization of young girls and women is having on those young girls as they develop into young women. Middle schoolers know the names of the big porn stars – crossover celebrities like Jenna Jameson and Jesse Jane, and they hear how much money they make and see them on the arms of young male celebrities at nightclubs in photo spreads in People Magazine. When the sex industry seems not just normal but exciting and glamorous, girls are more likely to behave in ways that emulate these sex workers. And I’m not judging the sex workers here, porn stars, prostitutes, exotic dancers (Yes, Pussycat Dolls are exotic dancers), “escorts” turned musicians, but the danger of the lure of their lifestyle poses for young girls is that they see their sexuality as something to be traded on for profit or acclaim.

The Shady Lady Ranch a “Nevada Legal Brothel” has recently put men on the menu.

Here’s what I have to say about that:

That is the dumbest fucking thing I have ever heard.

First, take a look at this guy. He looks like a shaved Ewok. Any woman can tell you that if she wants to get laid, she can go out any night of the week in just about any town in the country, nay THE WORLD, and find some guy who is probably less physically objectionable than Markus here is. Eliot Spitzer, Hugh Grant, Jimmy Swaggart, Charlie Sheen. These guys ostensibly sought the services of hookers for reasons of convenience, privacy, and, no doubt, to indulge in some of their kinkier fantasies with a willing participant.

Women don’t need to pay for this. Here’s what women need to do. Brush their hair and teeth. Go to a bar. Flirt with non-scary single male. At some point mention that you’d like to get naked and swing from a chandelier while barking like a dog but that you’re really looking for a no-strings attached kind of relationship, even to the point that the guy shouldn’t ever call you again or talk to you in public. Is every single guy you could encounter in a bar on a Tuesday night going to go for this? No. Of course not. And thank God. But a few of them are. Without a doubt. And instead of paying him for his services, he’ll probably buy you a drink or two.

Second, is it not bad enough that we’ve got at least two if not three or four generations of girls and young women in this country who are starving themselves, injecting plastic polymers under their skin, dressing to provoke before they even understand who or what they might be provoking, and who are absolutely engaging in ever riskier sexual behaviors at increasingly younger ages? No? Not bad enough? Apparently not. Because now we’re going to invite boys and young men to this party? Anyone could convincingly argue that there are some pros along with the myriad cons for women when they are treated as sex objects. But no matter how much money some women stand to make, more often than not, the men at the top are making more than the females doing the dirty work. There is nothing empowering for the men who are going to be turning tricks at the Shady Lady. Sure, they might make some cash. They might enjoy fifteen minutes of fame because of the novelty of it all, but ultimately? Men don’t need the benefit of empowerment that high-end prostitution might offer some women, but they also don’t need the objectification and degradation it bring, too.

And at $300 an hour? I’d rather pay to get a massage and a foot rub without having to have sex after.

…but Dan thinks…

When I heard about a brothel putting the “dude” into Dude Ranch, being the business man and penis-carrier I am, I immediately thought of the logistics, business model and marketing. Here’s exactly the conversation that went on in my head as I mulled this over:

“Hmm. If a woman wants to get laid, she only needs to show up at a bar. She can be wearing a wife beater, be 3 days post-shower, teeth and hair a mess, but if she makes it known that she wants you to split her uprights, she’s going home with an erect penis on a leash.

“So how do you market this? Well, what does the dirty, smelly, mussed hair woman get in a man at the bar? Does he have a big cock? Hmm, hard to sample that merchandise in public. Does he have a quick trigger-finger?

“Is there any kind of guarantee that he’d perform even modestly in bed? Would he even pay lip service to her needs?

“Ah, that’s it. There would need to be some sort of performance guarantee. An assurance that any money spent on a man would result in some sort of happy ending. And so maybe the men need to be put into categories – Markus would be the big, dumb jackhammer. I’m sure there are women out there who’d want a good hard fuck after closing some big business deal. But there would also be women who’d want their needs tended to exclusively, who cares if the guy gets off. Right? Are you with me? Of course you are.

“Hmm, again. But how can you have a satisfaction guarantee? I mean the finish line for a guy is pretty easy to reach and easier yet to prove. But a woman? Was all the moaning and shuddering just a rehash of When Harry Met Sally? Could she just want a freebie and claim she never had an orgasm, thereby getting her money back and the brothel going broke?

“There’d have to be some fine print that’d say ‘your man will do his best to fulfill your needs, but just like in life, sometimes men fall short.’

“Oh. Here’s another problem. What if the client’s ugly? In this regard the women have it easy. Quadruplechin&asshair man not turning her on? Squirt a little lube and she’s good to go, right? What does a guy do when he can’t see anything but that wart on her face and the bulging hemorrhoids? Pretty hard to fake an erection.

“Ah. Viagra. We’ll give it to the studs like candy.  Mints next to the night table.

“And what about staying power? Would there need to be “tryouts” to make sure $300 per hour doesn’t turn into $300 per 6 minutes? (I have a solution for that – Zoloft. But that’s another story for another time after I’ve had another drink. Or eight.)

“Ok. I think this can fly. It just needs to be marketed to the right types of women. And they’d need a corrupt doctor on staff to prescribe SSRIs and assloads of ED meds to keep the men sporting durable wood.

And blah, blah, blah, Jane, teaching young men to have sex? You seem to know the names of porn stars, so I have to ask – do you know any of the male porn stars’ names? Porn is watched for the chick, not the dude doin’ the chick. But the dude is pretty necessary to the video. Same with this – no guy is getting famous for something 3 billion other guys on the planet would stand in line to replace him for.

I’m not going to stand in judgment of something I would have gladly done as a summer job. I just think this is much harder than providing a seed receptacle – this one will require a pretty bright marketing mind. I wonder if they’re accepting applications.

Dan says…

I’ve heard this ridiculous urban legend recently that I think needs to be put to bed. The legend goes like this: women in their late 40’s and 50’s are having sex. I know. It’s crazy, right? Sex at that age? It gets crazier: some of ‘em are fucking younger guys.

I mean I saw The Graduate and all, but seriously? Mrs. Robinson is dead. Really.

This topic came about when I was pointing out to Jane one of the ads appearing on this site for CougarLife.com, the ad slogan being something like “He’s sleeping with someone younger – why can’t you?”

Jane bristled at the term. Cougar. Also known as old, gnarly cat, of the genus felinus cantmakus erectus, in the subspecies huntus perpetua.

Really? Is that all that’s in a name? A label? A cougar is a big, smelly, hairy beast always on the hunt to slake it’s thirst for flesh?

I think it’s about pigeon holes and people’s (read: Jane’s) desire to stay out of them.

Everybody wants to avoid being labeled in a negative way. Rarely does someone want to be categorized, unless it’s because she falls into the “drop-deap gorgeous” or he falls into the “hung like a Clydesdale” category.

To Jane, cougar = old skank.

I have a different opinion of that label altogether.

But first I have to offer up Exhibit A: Jennifer Lopez’s ass.

When JLo rose to fame and fortune, she did more than just make a name for herself. She made it ok to have an XXL ass. Even more than ok, she made it desirable. Growing up in the mid-80’s, if the guys I knew then saw a girl with an ass that big, no way she made it through high school without some therapy for the teasing she would have to endure. Now teenage guys are jerking off to those same big asses. JLo made having a large behind an asset. And men’s appreciation for this new, larger ass didn’t mean some other previously adored form was being neglected. Oh, no. It just widened the parameters for what shapes and sizes of female backsides were sexy and desirable.

Just like JLo’s big ass, I think the term cougar doesn’t lend a negative connotation to a woman. Totally the opposite, in fact. I think the label opens doors. It makes it feel more common, more normal for an older woman to have a sexual relationship with a younger man. And really? From my perspective, sitting here at 41 and looking in both directions (younger and older)? I see a younger woman, with her taut skin, pert breasts and bright eyes and I have to say yes, sometimes she’s a pleasure to look at. Ok, most times. And I’m generalizing here, but there’s probably also a whole lot about life that she hasn’t figured out yet. Like maybe she doesn’t know what really turns her on in bed, she’s just always done what she thought her partner would like or what she read on Dooce. And she’s more about the finish line, less about the journey to get there.

Having been the recipient of the rare flirtation by a younger woman, I can say that it feels pretty damn good. I have to imagine that an older woman receiving nuanced affections from a younger man has to make her feel good as well. That this strong young buck wants her the same as he would a younger woman? Ego boost, right? Stir the pot a little? (“pot” meaning, uh, nevermind)

And when I think of an older woman who’s sexually active, I automatically think of someone who knows what she likes. She’s been with a few men, gone through the years of trial and error under the covers, awkward elbows and falls off the Serta, so she can speak pretty plainly and candidly about what she wants and needs from her partner, be he younger or older.

Right. Are you kidding me? Clear, open dialogue about likes and dislikes without the emotional baggage of gender roles and the stifling affect of what’s proper to talk about and ask for when the only thing you’re wearing is a cowboy hat and a smile? Hell yes. More of that, please. What man on this planet wouldn’t want that?

I think that on the path toward acceptance of interracial couples, gay couples and (eep!) cougars and their cubs, there need to be interim steps. We can’t go from taboo to totally cool. So we come up with this label to tell us that yeah, this thing is out there, it happens enough to have a name, and really? It’s kinda cool.

So I say happy hunting.

…but Jane thinks…

Jane thinks  a great many things, particularly on this subject, but let’s start with one general notion:  Most of the time any contemporary phenomenon is described as “empowering” for women, it’s actually just another way that women get shuttled away back into the corner.  And it’s common knowledge that NOBODY puts baby in a corner.

Equal opportunity in the job market?  Greaaatttttt….thanks.  Now I am expected to work full time and keep your house and children together.    Birth control pills?  Greeeaaatttttt…thanks.  I’m really enjoying the weight gain, the emotional consequences of artificially introducing unnatural levels of hormones into my bloodstream, the increased risk of stroke and breast cancer, not to mention the responsibility for not bringing new and unwanted life into the world.

The moniker “cougar” is just another stepping stone down this slippery slope.

Do I think that open dialogue about women’s needs and desires, particularly in the bedroom or whatever room you prefer, freaks, is valuable and should be encouraged?  Of course.  Do I think that a cultural acknowledgement of the beauty and wisdom and strength of older women is a long time coming and something we should all be campaigning for?  Of course.

Do I think that using a term that conjures up images of carnivorous predators is useful in these pursuits of greater social, emotional, intellectual, and physical enlightenment?  That would be NO.  Instead, slapping a bestial label on a population of attractive and confident women – and note, nobody’s calling Granny McLibrarian with the elastic waist pants and wrinkles so deep she could carry her grandchildren around in them a cougar, the term is reserved for women who are smoking hot, botoxed into statuary, lifted and smoothed, and generally loaded  – who happen to date younger men reveals society’s baser instincts.

An older man dating a younger woman?  We might raise an eyebrow, but you and I both know that this dude is getting a slap on the back and a wink wink nudge nudge.  Older man + younger woman is, though, so commonplace as to not even really merit comment.  The older woman with the younger man, however, has accomplished some incredible feat – clearly a consequence of her sexual prowess (carnivorous) and deliberate efforts (predator).

The only reason Dan thinks that my interpretation of cougar is “old skank” is that I laughed out loud and for days a long time when he told me that he thinks Jane Seymour is hot.  Dr. Quinn?  The Max Factor Le Jardin perfume postergirl, from, like 1912?  The testicle-necklace designer (and if that doesn’t prove my point about cougars being predators, what does??)?

I sort of get Dan’s point about J. Lo and the junk in her trunk.   To be sure, I’m way in favor of Appreciating the Big Ass.  But adapting our cultural norms of physical beauty to be more inclusive is only positive, whereas a widely disseminated (yeah, I said it) connotation that an attractive and sexually active older woman in a relationship or whatever the kids are calling it these days with a younger man is a) worthy of note and b) comparable to a wild animal is irresponsible and ultimately damaging.