Is this what prostitute feel like?

This doesn't make any sense, I know. I am the most skeptical usually. But this is what I feel like tonight.

We went to a friend's house to watch the Super Bowl. He is a man in his late 50's, early 60's who used to be a teacher and now sells textbooks. There were several people there who regularly play poker together, including my husband. I knew that they would be drinking and playing poker all day.

I didn't come over to the house until right before the game (I was grading papers). When I got there, most of the crowd was intently playing poker. And they stayed playing poker for most of the football game. But the host was cooking meat, and was almost dangerously drunk. He was a great host who kept offering everyone food and drinks. But by the 2nd quarter, several of us were worried that he would burn down the house.

So I chatted up the host, and talked with everyone at the party. I was charming and I am sure that everyone thought I was having a great time, despite my rolling my eyes about entertaining the drunk host. But then I went home and cried, for like an hour.

I am not one of those women. I don't cry for no reason. I don't cry that often. I am not that neurotic. Really. But I spent the last 2 hours trying to convince my husband I was not crazy. He held me and tried to be understanding, but he really had no idea.

It's a weird feeling. It's not like heartbreak, or fear, or anxiety. But it made me feel shitty.

So what happened? Well when the host was so drunk that he couldn't stand up in the kitchen I suggested he sit down on the couch and watch the game. He wanted to fix the fire but several of us were worried that bad things would happen if he worked on that. But not long after he sat down he wanted to get up. So I said that he should drink some water, I even brought water over to him and said he should drink it. I noticed he was looking down my shirt when I handed him the glass. So I said "in order to look at my tits you have to drink the water." I don't know why I said it. I guess I figured that I had an angle and so I should work it.

For the next 2 hours that was my angle. The other people in the party helped me with making sure that he didn't try to work the fire, or the stove (we had all been scared with his attempts earlier). But they all seemed to be grateful that I was making sure that he was sitting down. So I sat next to him and let him tell me, for 2 hours, that I had great tits. And then I went home and cried.

He tried reaching at me and I stopped him. I teased him and told him that he should respect me for my brain - he said that of course he does. He also said the only reason that he wasn't feeling me up was because my husband was there, playing poker. I told him that he wouldn't be allowed to feel me up even if I didn't have a husband. He sang the praises of my breasts repetively as I tried to make sure that he didnt do something stupid. The weird thing was that none of the things he was saying was new. I had heard stuff like for years - college, my job delivering fork lift parts to mechanics, grad school, etc. Did it bother me then like it bothered me tonight?

When I got home I tried to explain to my husband why I was bawling. He wanted to understand, and he did a good job of holding me. But I knew that he didn't get why I was so upset. Hell, I don't know why I am so upset. I just know that I felt like crying when I thought about tonight and it doesn't make any sense.

I wonder if I always felt like that when guys talked like that to me but I blocked it. I think I thought I was in control back then - like I was the one calling the shots. But I don't think I was - and I think I always knew it. What the hell kind of woman or feminist was I? Telling myself that I know what was going on and that I am a respected person at the same time that men make me feel like a piece of meat. Men who swear that they love my brain at the same time they are looking down my chest. It's amazing how many men who are liberal, men who swear that they respect women for who they are, can make me feel like crap.

I don't know if any of this can make sense. And of course I have never been a prostitute so I don't really know what it feels like. But I do know that I really felt like shit tonight. And I didn't do anything wrong. I just felt like I did.