Home > People, Relationships, Sex, women > The Price of Female Companionship

The Price of Female Companionship

“As every woman fetches a price, it should come as no surprise that men treat them like assets to be counted and valued.”


Do men ALWAYS buy sex?

Do men ALWAYS buy sex? This is certainly worth contemplation.

In 2006, I had a most enlightening conversation with a young woman who wasn’t what you’d call one of the sharpest knives in drawer. Needless to say, the profundity of what came out of her mouth stumped me for several weeks. Yes, it was that earth shattering at the time. This is what she said:

All men buy sex. The men who get married pay the most, while the patrons of prostitution pay the least.

Needless to say, I was appalled. Surely this lass who wasn’t necessarily as smart as she was pretty merely stumbled upon this epiphany through someone else’s cognition. I hadn’t decided to give it further contemplation then until a very recent experience with another woman. Now I fear that she may have been right. No wonder many men are so sexist.

Do men buy sex?

I have never paid money to a prostitute and I never will. One would have to put a gun to my head to compel me to stoop that low. However, when I thought of most of the women I’ve dated, I realised that the quality of the experience was almost always contingent on how much money I put down.

Whether those dates evolved into sex or not is irrelevant. The point is, like Kanye says, she doesn’t have to be a gold digger. It’s just that women are not quite as likely to notice a man who has no money – and I suppose that is a reasonable expectation given the expected result of the exchange.

I just don’t like it one bit.

The little miss who provided me with this epiphany is not a prostitute. She’s a fairly respectable girl (stress on “fairly”) who for the most part conducts herself like a perfect young lady. She is however, very clear about her expectations of men. I find that women who’re more educated are less straight forward.

Our conversation evolved out of why I had a problem with her attitude. She insists that she doesn’t date men who don’t own a car. That means the fat kid working in her department who was pining for her attention didn’t have a shot – even though he’s a nicer guy than I am. Poor fellow. If only that guy knew how incredibly shallow she was. Nice guys were always too naive to get laid.


Never the less, long after that conversation ended, years in fact, I took a long hard look at every woman I had ever been close to romantically and I asked myself a very hard question: “What is the difference between them and her?” I was desperate to find one. Surely not all women are quite this shallow.

When we were teens, girls used to hang out with us after school. As I went to an all male Catholic institution, they came over (or we went to them) and we shared all kinds of fun, Catholic sanctified extra curricular activities. Relax, I’m not Catholic. Needless to say, there was no price tag on that experience.

Oh wait, there’s a school fee involved. But that was for my education. The girls were a bonus for attending a prestigious Catholic school. So technically, that was free love. Well – for me anyway. My dad might think otherwise.

After high school though, the game changes. People start to think about sex in a very real sense. Finger bound explorations are no longer enough. But how do you do that when you still live with your parents? Creative solutions aside, it became more and more obvious that something had to change.

The Initial Cost of Ownership

Once we hit adulthood and we (mostly) move out of the parents’ home, we realise that the mind set in women becomes very, very different. One of the first questions I constantly heard from women I just met were “so… do you live alone?“. Depending on the answer to that question, the evening may or may not wear on. This is especially true if she happens to want what you want.

Price so far: Rent/Mortgage

Another question I constantly encountered was, “So what do you drive?” I never get asked “do you drive?”. Women almost always assume that a dude at a certain age automatically owns a motor car. What if I didn’t drive? I’m pretty sure, based in my friends’ experience, that the conversation would’ve ended very differently. Apparently, having wheels means opportunity. Fair enough.

But what about those really great guys who don’t own a car? Can you imagine all the swell guys out there who are missing out just because there are so many women out there who genuinely don’t know what’s good for them? Then again, those kinds of girls are probably doing them all a favour.

I suppose the cultural dynamic is a lot different in countries where cars are irrelevant (because the public transportation is fabulous). Either way, there appears to be a direct correlation between the hotness of a man’s car and the hotness of the girl he will be able to snag. It almost never fails.

When I was in college, I knew this gorgeous young woman with whom I was merely a friend. Being the nerd I was then, she would only spend time with me when I was helping her with assignments. I jumped at every opportunity.

However, I didn’t yet own a car. Thus, every guy who rolled onto campus with a killer ride got to sample her company at a more advanced level of interaction than I did. One of them almost even raped her. Now, despite the fact that all these guys were obviously bad for her, their cars changed that fact.

She was as predictable as she was pretty. It made me start to think that it wasn’t just blonde’s who were that dumb. So in my final year, after having come across a surplus in available funds, I finally bought my first car. Now guess who got to take her home in the evenings and stay up late with her?

You’re damn right.

Price so far: Rent/Mortgage + Wheels

The Price of Woo

This lovely Cajun and I had a most enlightening debate

This lovely half French Cajun and I had a most enlightening debate...

Girls need to be wooed. To woo a woman, it takes more than having some place to get hot and intimate. In fact, even if one is a smooth talker, you still need to purchase tickets to her attention. This is especially true on dates.

The cost of the ticket may range anywhere from a round of coffee, to a drink at the bar, to the cost of a full course meal, to the cost of an all inclusive outing at the night club. The bottom line is that there is a cost and it can almost always be measured in dollars and cents. I struggled to find exceptions.

Recently, my friend accused me of always seeing everything in terms of dollars and cents (which is not true – I see everything as symmetrical mathematical equations – but I digress). She accused me of taking the magic out of everything by measuring the cost of everything we do together.

This is a transcript of our conversation that night. My words are in blue and hers, green:

If I was unable to ferry us here in my chariot, would you be ok with us taking a taxi?


What if I couldn’t afford a taxi, would you come with me on a bus?

Her answer had notably less exuberance:

Sure – but then I’d rather subsidize the cost of the taxi.”

So far so good. Albeit, she’s a smart one. So I upped the ante:

What if I couldn’t pay for this meal?

Then we wouldn’t be here, would we?

That wasn’t quite the answer I was looking for. So I pulled for the heavy artillery:

How is what I’m doing here any different from hiring an escort?

There is a short pause. I could see the cognition in motion in her eyes. After she realised where I was going with the discussion, she broke the din of silence:

Well first of all, you actually like me. Secondly, we could always find something else to do, right? We don’t always have to do things that cost money.

Still not the answer I’m looking for. She knows what I’m gunning for and is deliberately dodging the questions. I press harder:

“Would you have been satisfied if we only did things that didn’t cost money?”

A playful look momentarily occupied her countenance as she deflected yet again:

“I don’t think either of us would have been satisfied.”

Realising that this deflection was going to continue ad nauseum, I decided to go for the kill:

Would you have seriously given me the time of day if I was completely broke?

Her smile disappears as she slumps back into her seat. At this point, her body language tells me quite clearly that she feels cornered. So it means that I’m running a very dangerous risk of ruining the evening. I have to pursue this with less alacrity. The waiter comes over to offer us wine. I motion to him to get us her favourite. We’re regulars and my credit card has never declined.

She finally speaks:

Well, even if you were broke, we would still find a way. I do admit though, that it would have been much harder for us to get to where we are in our relationship.

That’s definitely not the answer I’m looking for. In fact, I knew that women tend to use diplomacy to say “No”. So, generating as much empathy in my voice as humanly possible, I look her deep in the eyes and make my point:

Well that’s just it, isn’t it? Men are expected to buy the attention of a woman – quite literally in fact – which doesn’t help us in the way of not perceiving you all as assets.

She was quick:

I didn’t notice you because of the size of your pocket.

But so was I:

True – but what if you’ve never read my work. Would you still have?

She was resilient:

That’s not a fair question. Would you have been talking to me if I wasn’t attractive?

At this point, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Are you implying that I got what I paid for?

Her, without missing a beat:

Relationships are investments, dear. You get out of it what you put into it.

Appalled, I had to ask the obvious:

And what if I didn’t put any money into it?

You’re missing the point. Money is only a means to an end, not an end in and of itself. If we lived in the 13th century BC, you’d have used sheep and cattle instead of your credit card to achieve the same objective. You said it yourself: Men rule the world. We women are just playing by your rules.

At this point, it was no longer a debate. She was making herself abundantly clear. She had a serious look on her face, while a wide grin embraced mine. Now I remember why I enjoyed her company – and why I couldn’t see us having a real future together. This wasn’t over yet. So I continued:

Touché. Well played. Well since you women are playing by ‘our rules’, I suppose you wouldn’t feel too bad about me trading you in for a prettier girl.

Her next response made me realise that she finally got what I was getting at:

Are you implying that I’m not worth the investment?

Not at all. Rather, I was hoping that your worth could not be measured by ANY investment – whether it be by cattle or credit card. I’d want to think of you as being priceless – not pricey.

At this point, it’s obvious that she is just as amused as she is offended. Loosing some composure, she breaks into her native French;

Aaah, le grand Xenocrates se prouve avec la splendeur de mots.” (‘Ahh, the great Xenocrates proves himself with splendorous words’) “Your words are like fire and ice. You can heal with as much power as you wound.

I respond with my sword slightly drawn:

The essence of truth is never earned without bloodshed, mon cher

Her brown eyes narrow, with a fierce look of predatory vindication on her now pursed, pink lips. She raises one eyebrow, indicating that she is about to pounce, with this:

Than you are just as naive as you are brilliant.

The ad hominem remark made me smile (much to her chagrin). That’s how I knew the conversation’s effectively over. So I close:

Indeed. My last Santa Claus just died – and for that, I thank you.

And with that, the icy stare coming from across the table could’ve given me instant hypothermia. Needless to say, it took some fancy footwork to earn my way back into her graces after that. But I was now more certain than ever. Every woman carries a price tag – and I was one of the last to realise this.

Not to worry, we’re still very good friends. It’s just that the demerits of that conversation haunt us both to this day. Maybe we’re both too smart for our own good or maybe I have a lot of growing up to do. In retrospect, It’s probably more the latter than the former. If not, then women are being grossly misrepresented by women like her who believe that they must be bought.

Price so far: Rent/Mortgage + Wheels + Woo

The Upgrade Principle

I’ve always heard from my less cognitively entertaining colleagues that the quality of the woman you snag is highly contingent on the quality of one’s chariot. I suppose in some context, it’s just like in the days of cowboys, the masculinity of a man was measured by the impressiveness of his horse.

Of course, I thought that was a load of horse bunk. I had met enough women when I was a teen – long before I could own a car, to know that a chariot was not quintessential to scoring a ticket to a woman’s heart. It wouldn’t be long before  I was proven wrong. Some of years ago, when I upgraded from this:

Chariot 1

…which happened to be my first car, to this:

Chariot 2

…the quantity and quality of female attention quite literally tripled. Overnight. I was being hit on by women at work, on the street, at school, at play, at the drive through, on the internet, at Burger King, in the rain, at the beach, in my own father’s house, in my backyard, at my neighbour’s fence, while feeding my dog, while doing the laundry, while I slept, while I ate – what the hell?

In retrospect, a more appropriate question would be: “Why the hell?”

I soon learned that women measure a man’s masculinity by his possessions in as much as a man measures a woman’s femininity by her appearance. The sooner I stopped thinking about humans as being more than animals, the less reviling it appeared to be. Dogs sniff each others’ butts anyway.

Now, the thing is, once your girlfriend becomes accustomed to the upgrade, downgrading is not an option. No siree. I contemplated the possibility of selling that chariot to get an older one (economic recession and all that). The protests I engendered from the female populous became a raucous din.

The interesting thing is that when I proposed the completely illogical option of selling that car to get a more expensive car at a cheaper price, they agreed, despite the fact that the proposition makes absolutely no sense whatsoever!

No amount of rational explanation would suffice – which is not surprising, considering women prefer the right (emotional) side of their brain for cognition. Needless to say, the protests of women circling my front yard with picket signs reading “No downgrade!” were sufficient to change my mind.

This taught me a very valuable lesson:

When you “upgrade your masculinity” (vis-a-vis your possessions or status) most women correspondingly upgrade their expectations of a man. I only say most, because I think there might be one or two exceptions out there.

(…right – since pigs can obviously fly)

For example: If you move out of your parents’ house, even if she broke up with you, she will never date a guy after that who lives with his parents. Her expectations became upgraded with your upgrade. If you upgraded to a home with warm water in the pipes, she’ll never date a guy who doesn’t have that.

If you upgraded from being a pedestrian to driving your own car, she will never date another guy after that who doesn’t drive (which is what I suspect happened to the girl I mentioned at the outset of this post). Heck, if you upgraded your car, she won’t date men after that who drive lesser vehicles.

When I queried my friend about this enigma, her answer was unusually direct and honest this time:

Downgrading reduces a woman’s perception of a man

Fascinating. So there you have it boys. I call this phenomenon the Upgrade Principle, and it goes like this:

Never upgrade without a plan B

Plan B is basically what you would be forced to do if your upgrade turns out to be an unsustainable development. Plan B will more than likely include finding a new woman who hasn’t yet experienced an upgrade. The frightening thing is that guys do it all the time. They downgrade and move on to the girl on the side.

…and you wonder why men cheat.

Even some married men have to deal with this conundrum. Although their wives mean well, telling her that he can’t afford that new kitchen is almost the same as telling her that she has to find a new man. When she finally gets through the loss, she may come around. But can you imagine all the stress involved?

Price so far: Rent/mortgage + Wheels + Woo + Upgrade Insurance Policy

Taking Stock

female-assetsWomen often capitulate to being assets in a man’s pleasure trove

Earlier I used the word ‘most‘ to describe women in this context. Of course, that’s just a fail safe, since it obviously does not apply to every woman – or so I hope. I’m pretty sure I’ll be hearing from some women who think that I need to meet more females. Well certainly, I would never turn down that opportunity.

Plan B – remember?

Originally, I thought this issue would only be relevant to women in modern western hemisphere or northern European cultures. Surely it doesn’t apply to women in countries where the capitalist mentality is not quite so pronounced, right? Wrong. The Bible has enough examples of capitalist females to certify that the source of this propensity is most probably genetic in nature.

To be fair though, the Bible is pretty misogynistic. So grain of salt and all that…

It doesn’t mean that I’m not a bit disappointed though. There is a certain dread hypocrisy at work here. Women don’t like it when men treat them like pieces of meat. But I ask you, with this attitude, how are they to expect men to treat them differently? I really shouldn’t expect more from human animals.

If that is true then it leaves us to one very simple conclusion: As every woman fetches a price, it should come as no surprise that men treat them like assets to be counted and valued. I’m not sure that’s a reality that will ever change. Women seem to acknowledge it while we men stock pile them like options.

Either way, so long as men have to buy sex (whether directly or indirectly), women have unwittingly put a price tag on their face and reduced themselves to little more than objects of desire. It is therefore irrational to expect men to treat women (consciously or subconsciously) as more than pieces of meat.

With that said, god bless the men who met their wives while they were yet children – when their love was still pure. Once they become adults, the game changes, expectations rise, and true love becomes a very subtle, very implicit, yet inextricable form of monetary exchange which devalues the relationship.

But I’m pretty sure there are women out there who would stick by a man out of genuine love – irrespective of what he has, how much he has up (or down) graded or whether or not he could afford to treat her like a queen. I met just such a girl recently. I asked her the same question I asked my Cajun friend:

What if I was totally broke. Would you have still given me the time of day?

With what I can only describe as pure love in her eyes, she took my hands and responded with child like innocence:

Honey, there are two of us.

That’s the answer I was looking for. It was that simple. It’s a pity my lovely Cajun friend couldn’t appreciate that. I suppose some things are so simple that they confound even the wise. I guess I’m not so naive after all.

  1. December 17, 2015 at 12:52 am

    This day and age many females are breadwinners. They could care less about what a man has. They only care who a man is and thats real.

  2. rondrae
    April 4, 2011 at 1:07 am

    And this is why a man’s salary should be higher than a female’s salary in the same position.

  3. rod
    December 5, 2010 at 1:20 am

    It’s a shame we have to buy your way into many women’s hearts these days. I miss the days of where you enjoyed each other’s company over something inexpensive or free, like in younger college days and before.

  4. Poison
    May 18, 2010 at 11:40 pm

    I for one DO NOT like women and most men for that matter

    • May 18, 2010 at 11:48 pm

      But you do find women attractive, right?

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