The Girlfriend Experience

In my last post, serious business was discussed. With the dreary weather out there today (15 degrees!), I figure it's time to lighten up and lift the mood of this city. Back to writing about sex it is then. You can't wait, can you?

The Girlfriend Experience is a hilarious documentary play that I went to see this summer at the Young Vic in Southwark. The playwright, Alecky Blythe, went into a real brothel in Bournemouth and set up microphones everywhere. Over a period of time, conversations of the prostitutes and their clients were recorded. The actors wear headphones on stage and repeat the lines exactly as they were said, with all the groans and coughs and pauses, which gives the explicit material a realistic dimension.

The brothel is run by a group of women who all seem to have a no-nonsense approach to their profession. They have bills to pay and their clients have needs. You feel for them. It's no different to your office job. They provide a service. What surprised me was the look of these prostitues. The women are not pretty, not slim, not even young. It reminds you that sex in the real world has nothing to do with Ann Summers and lad mags, that you don't need to have a flat stomach or perfectly manicured nails. It's almost comforting to know that men will pay for sex with women who do not look like Belle de Jour.

I laughed, laughed, laughed and during course of the play I realized that I am, after all, not quite as dirty-minded as I had thought. I practically grew up with Sex and the City, and have no problem talking about sex, penises, breasts, vibrators, etc. In fact I do so regularly with my girlfriends and sometimes the boys, to the point where often it makes me think that I should tone it all down a little and be good Catholic girl, otherwise no one will ever marry me and people will see me as an easy girl, which I am not. Oh boy, do I love playing hard to get.

But then, there is a client who phones into the brothel and asks for hard sports, code name for shitting, crapping, defecating, whatever you want to call it. Except, that's not all. He asks the prostitute if she could take some laxatives beforehand, because he prefers the really runny kind. It's people like that who remind me that I am indeed very normal, very boring in fact, as far as sexual matters are concerned. Water sports (peeing) are offered at the Bournemouth institution too, as is the full Girlfriend Experience, where the prostitute acts with a little more sentiment, a little gentleness, pretending that she is not being paid to do whatever it is that her client has asked for.

At one point, the owner of the brothel tells us that her daughter will be moving in to the building. "But it's all gonna be separate," she insists and proceeds to explain that her daughter is clued up as far as her mother's profession goes, "She is sixteen. She's not stupid, you know." Later on, the daughter's GCSE results are proudly shown and the scene where our brothel madam confesses that even whores can bring up children well is truly touching.

Disabled men are frequent clients of the brothel and the women working there have no problem with this, seeing them just as people with needs. "The only thing I would have a problem with is a colostomy bag," one of the women says. Because that is bodily fluids, you know ...

Overall, it was a hilarious evening. Very human. Bold. Almost touching, to see the softer side of the oldest profession, where women work together in a friendly and co-operative atmosphere, rather than the human-trafficking-forced-prostitution side of things. Loved every minute of it.

Watch this little YouTube clip about the making of The Girlfriend Experience: