One Lucky Soul: Not Sleeping With a French Hooker at 14

Not Sleeping With a French Hooker at 14 by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul

In Ninth Grade at the Jésuites, a group of schoolmates and I went to France for a couple of weeks part of a student-exchange program. Being an all-boys school, most went to stay at boys’ homes, who in turn came to visit Egypt a few months afterwards. Among the 25-30 boys, there were only five who exchanged with girls including myself.   We were also accompanied by several Egyptian girls from the Sacré-Cœur.

As the son of a General Manager I was living in a five-star hotel, had a younger sister who went to the Lycée Francais, all the somewhat liberal family spoke good French, and had already travelled abroad numerous times by then, including to France as recounted in Six Nails for My Double-Fractured Arm in Sainte-Maxime. It is therefore possible the school thought that exchanging with a female would be convenient.  

Despite the fact that my girl, A.L, was somewhat of a geek and wasn’t that much fun, the rest of the trip was truly something to remember. Ah, we would laugh ourselves to tears.

At the time, some cousins were living in Paris. One day I took the permission from whoever was in charge, informing the family I was staying with, and went to spend the weekend with them. I think it was a Saturday and my older cousin had four Egyptian friends with him. While I was 14 they were 18-19, and I just hung around with them and followed their lead.   

At around noon, we first went to some outdoors pub to have a few beer pitchers in the warm sun. We all got buzzed before heading to the subway. Like badboys, they crossed over the metal gate of the entrance without paying as we see in the movies, and, I did just the same. Once in the tube, they decided that we’ll go have sex with hookers. What? Without wanting to appear like a novice, I played it cool while trying to know more about that adventure-to-be.   

This was during the school year 1991-92 when I was still a virgin. I had already made out with several girls, but having sex, like full-on sex, was a different thing. Having it with a prostitute is even way different than anything this teenager ever fantasised about. You can see how young we were in the featured photos captured during the trip.

While still on the subway on the way to Quartier Pigalle, Paris’ Red Light District, one of the guys was like: “You know what to do, huh? She’s going to give you the condom and you must wear it.” Other than trying one on one of those days in the bathroom, the rest of my experience with condoms had been filling them with water and goofily throwing them on our friends at the Gezira Club. By the time we were 12 and 13, I looked older than most guys my age, so I was one of those who used to go to the pharmacy to buy some [to play with] — same as buying cigarettes — but that was it. Nevertheless, I still smiled to the guys, pretending that I got it.

As we were approaching our destination, my heart was pounding faster and crazier than ever before. There were many unanswered questions racing through my uncorrupted teenage mind. But again, I remained silent because even younger me here had always been that guy who seems cool and grounded. I do so by flowing in the moment and playing the part, even though it’s not necessarily how I feel inside.

Once we arrived and exited to subway we reckoned that it was some national holiday. I recall people were celebrating in the streets and all the shops were closed. Fortunately for me, this meant that hookers were off, too. You cannot believe how much relief I have felt then and there. Truly, I was beyond ecstatic.

The guys were slightly bummed, or at least some of them looked like it. Yet,  this change of plan didn’t ruin the merry intoxicating mood we were in. For some hours we kept vagabonding through the streets of Paris before going to Burger King to grab a bite. Later in the evening we went back to my cousins’ place where I spent the night. The next day it was back to my adopted family to resume the trip and its itinerary.

With Shokry in France

The following are some of the lighthearted stuff I remember from the trip, which came to me as I’m writing like missing pieces of a grand puzzle:

On my second night in Paris I was having dinner with the family when they proceeded to explain to me what omelette eggs are. Perhaps they thought we’re Egyptian so we’re nomadic people who live by the Great Pyramid and ride camels to school. So, when the girl came to Cairo and stayed in the Sheraton where I was residing, my parents and I were joking about what she would go back to say to her family about the six different restaurants she was having her lunches and dinners at.

By the following nights I came to know how little do they eat for dinner. Eventually, I bought crackers and chips and kept them in my room because I would always get hungry later — dinner was early, maybe 6:30 pm or 7.

Leaving our Paris families to go stay with another family in, I think, Toulouse for something like three or four nights.

Some teenage drama between the boys and the Sacré-Cœur girls. Who dated whom and then broke it off and then dated another guy, and the guys had serious talks and all. Cute.

Buying Harley Davidson boots a few days before leaving Paris. Along some music CDs — Queen’s Live at Wembley and The Doors in Concert (the double album) — they were on the list. For the parsimonious French family, spending $100 or so on boots was utter madness. But Boy oh Boy, when I would wear them at the Gezira Club I felt like I was the coolest guy alive. Ever. Also because of the long sideburns.

Playing soccer while Ahmed Baligh was being hilarious as usual —
with Shokry on the far right and Mohamed behind me

A few months later it was A.L’s turn to come visit me in Cairo. Amusingly, one night as were physically goofing around I fell on the top of her on the bed and started making out. Several minutes through, thinking that I wanted go further, she stopped me. “Je suis saine”, she repeated a few times. I guess that was her way to say that she was a virgin. I wasn’t really attracted to the Frenchie, so I stopped altogether. I had a feeling that she liked me, but from my side it was purely hormonal.

The next morning before going with her group to visit Luxor and Aswan in Upper Egypt for four or five days, she wrote on the back of [ironically] a George Michael card I used to have by the mirror: “J’espère que tu ne m’en veux pas”; which literally translates into: “I hope you won’t hold it against me”, then slid it underneath my bedroom door. In other words, Sorry [that she didn’t go further] and that she hopes I’m not pissed.

Other than the lack of attraction, I had actually started dating a girl at the time. It was right in the beginning and it was my first real relationship during which we both came to lose our virginities — about a year after that France trip. We were in love and felt ready and decided to go for it. Obviously it was the teeny kind of love, but it still was love.  

As such, we made a tape with all the love songs we enjoyed to listen to during the action, and ended up going for it twice. I still keep the tape in my memories shoe box in Cairo. Finding it during this current trip reminded me of the story I’m sharing herein and inspired me to write the article. As I previously described in Rooting Into The Past: 

“She [our nanny] was around the house the first time my girlfriend and I had sex. My parents were away while my sister and I were sleeping at our grandmother’s. We had agreed on the day and prepared a tape with all the lovey-dovey songs we wanted to listen to while losing our virginities. Cute. When we went home we found that Bassima was there. So I told her that we’ll be watching a horror movie and the room will be dark, so to never, ever, try to interrupt us. “I’m trying to really scare her [my ex]”, I told her. She didn’t interrupt. It truly was a success.”  

I can’t believe I’m talking about something from 25 years ago. That’s a quarter of a century right there!

We dated for three years, then after three more years when we were 21 in university we dated once again for a period of six months. Now that I contemplate what had transpired, this successful start was how I fell in love with love. I had always connected well with females and enjoyed their company, but I dare saying that the whole dynamic was intensified as I matured. Because, how the first time goes leaves a significant effect on our sexuality and future love life. 

The Night I Became a Stripper in Spain is a similar clean article also based on a true story and also taking place in Europe ― almost 8 years after our Parisian near-miss here.

However, for the debauched in you ― yes I know you exist as seen in the statistics of the blog ― the indecent and much more spicy stuff with actual action are found in the 17 articles from the Memoirs of an Incognito Friend series. Starting with The Italian Belly Dancer from 2015 up until the more recent The Woman Who Came Again — 24 Years Later. One must note though that these stories are intended for a mature audience.

Fady, Shokry, myself, and Rami somewhere

When I look back at some guys whose first time was with the family’s morbidly obese cleaning lady or with, like I was close to do, a prostitute I see a different approach regarding sex. Other guys, and those were the majority in Egypt, didn’t have sex during school — same goes for girls. Due to culture, religion and society, sexuality is repressed. A reason why it is not uncommon to find virgins in university, possibly remaining as such until marriage.

Another major reason for not engaging in premarital sex is a lack of privacy and space. In some parts of the world many people keep living with their parents until they get married. So sometimes you could find the partner but you have no place to go to. Some friends would get creative and go park the car somewhere far, then put a cover over it and start playing. In my case, I was lucky to live in a hotel and then I had my own place, hence it was never a problem.

Speaking of hotels, an additional hurdle is that in many of said countries unmarried couples cannot legally check-in or share a room together. Yeah, the madness... and it’s the 21st Century! That obviously goes back to religion. So the youth who are naturally full of hormones and the will to experiment have little options when it comes to securing a place. Funnily, and despite the homophobia, such oppressive segregation makes it easier to seek the same sex when it comes to sexuality — who can indeed check-in rooms.

Further, us teenagers went to school in the early 90s before the Internet or even mobile phones. So unless you were one of the cool guys who had access to half-torn porn magazines or, even better, the few VHS movies a quarter of the school had watched, some schoolboys had no idea if the woman’s holes are interconnected or not. I was seriously asked this question before.

Again, when some did finally have sex, or came close with a car blowjob, it was with a hooker. By that time, I had been having healthy sex for six or seven years, so naturally I felt exceedingly mature and ‘knowing’ compared to them. I hold that my early experiences empowered me with a way with women and taught me how to respect, treat, and please them; how to make them feel good about themselves.

An additional influence was watching my father — who was a ladies’ man himself — deal with women. He is a true gentleman who taught me how to treat them gently and respectfully. How, for instance, to let them go first, whether in driving or while entering an elevator or through a door. And I could see how the women appreciated these manners, often reacting with a smile, so I genuinely followed through.

In truth, and without sounding like bragging, by the time I was in my mid 20s I have had more sexual partners than all of my close friends combined. Simply because whether they were older experienced women or younger eager girls, I loved women and sex, I still do obviously: The connection, the flirting and seduction, the perfume, the foreplay, their warm skin touching mine, giving them orgasms. Despite being quite picky, especially as I matured, it’s fairly safe to say that I love the whole lot.

On that same note, When Choosy Men Reject Women is a recent piece about how things have developed and how being more conscious seems to lead one to be even more picky. Why I Choose to Remain a Non-Dad for Now — Reflections on Being Childless is another. Conversely, Things I Miss From Being in a Relationship is a glimpse from the other side of the spectrum.

THE sentimental tape

Back to hookers, other than once in L.A and another in Amsterdam, I never needed to pay for sex. Sometimes I even joke with my friends, saying that I should be the one getting paid. In actuality, I only did it a few times in my entire life — purely experimental. During the summer course in UCLA it was friend who wanted it badly since he has never had sex before; so when we picked up two girls I let him have the prettier of the two while I took one for the team and got the chubbier chick. In Amsterdam a few years later in my early 20s, the Red Light District was right there and legal, so here too, it was a rather touristic experimentation.

As for A.L, the last time we saw each other was on the last day of her trip to Cairo. Through hand-written letters we remained in contact for a while after. When Facebook started to become as universal as it is nowadays I tried to look her up, but wasn’t successful. I did, though, find her on LinkedIn; I tried again while writing this article and she’s still not on; using the family name I was able to find one of her brothers, S, who looks pretty much the same 25 years later.

Whenever I think of that one early afternoon in Paris I like to think that Cupid had protected me. To this day, I’m still sincerely overwhelmed with gratitude for not sleeping with a French hooker at that relatively young age of 14. Who knows what could have happened if that had been my first time? Imagine is she was smelly, or sick, or essentially a man. There is no certain way to know, but it’s likely that such encounter would have led me to take on a whole different approach towards dealing with women, my own sexuality, and love life in general.

Vive Les Femmes!