Joy Attmore comments on the consumerist nature of many relationships.

Joy Attmore

"Do you think prostitution is ever okay? Some people talk about it being empowering for the woman in some instances, so do you ever think it's okay?"

I stood on the balcony of a New York skyscraper, overlooking the hustle and bustle of 42nd street, surrounded by the tired yet happy bodies of Broadway actors and dancers as they celebrated Labor Day following their all-day rehearsals. I smiled into the eyes of the questioner and gently responded.

"To be completely honest, I don't think prostitution is ever ok or empowering. A woman could call herself a 'high-end' prostitute or be selling her body behind the locked doors of a brothel, however you advertise it they are still turning relationship and intimacy into a product; therefore they will always be secondary to their customer and that is undeniably detrimental to a person's heart and soul. Sex is a gift. Relationships are gifts. They are not intended to be turned into something you can buy and sell."

"Wow", the gentleman who had asked me this question looked back at me with eyes filling with tears as my response hit his heart. "I have never thought of it like that before. You have completely changed my perspective on this."

I watched as revelation swept over him and he had to take a moment to choke back the tears that were on the brink of spilling down his face. We stood there, not saying anything for a few minutes, and soaked it in. Truth was having its moment to speak and it was being heard.

As I reflected on this conversation later, I realised how revealing it was of the general stance towards sex and relationships that we have. There is a consumer mentality that we have taken on towards each other and the levels of intimacy that we engage in. What can I get from this person? How can they meet my needs? How can I get my needs or desires met with the least cost to myself?

I recently got married and with the saying of "I do" comes the greatest level of relational intimacy. I have experienced love and beauty in fresh waves of technicolor and what had previously just been theory to me has now been confirmed by reality. Love and sex are gifts. They cannot be packaged up and sold; they are freely given and freely received. They are delicate yet strong, intended to be treasured and prized, valued beyond the number on a price tag.

A couple of days following the Labor Day party, I was walking along 8th Ave, on my way to meet a friend, when I approached a busy construction site. Men in hard hats and hi vis jackets poured in and out of the scaffolded site like busy ants. I was just about to pass in front of the entrance gates when a guy held up a red flag across the sidewalk to prevent any pedestrians passing, in order to allow a big truck to exit into the stream of moving traffic. In a split-second I found myself surrounded by men whose eyes undressed me as they looked me up and down and whose lips gave noise to one-liner chat up lines, cat calls and murmurs of appreciation. I felt like a piece of meat on display with no choice but to succumb to the potential buyer's desires. One guy in particular tried to engage me in conversation, asking me if I would go to happy hour with him. I dismissed the invitation and announced that I was married to everyone around me, as I gulped down the embarrassment and anxiety that was forming in my throat. My admirer smiled and quickly responded, "Your husband doesn't have to know."

The red flag dropped at this point and I was finally able to move forward, relieved to be free of this encounter and able to find sanctuary in the nearest Starbucks. I felt sick and violated, my cheeks flushed rosy red as I realised everyone was watching me walk past, including other pedestrians, who had had their attention drawn to me by the scrutiny I was receiving. A block later and I finally exhaled allowing the tension I had pulled into my body to leave with a shaky sigh. It's a compliment to be told you are beautiful but it is mortifying to be treated like an object.

For a couple of minutes I had been pulled into an encounter with consumerism and I was the product. I was secondary to the desires of men for a few minutes. My marriage didn't matter to them and neither did my sense of attraction to them; they just wanted something from me.

We are in need of a relationship revolution where sex stops being a product, where love is the standard that we move by and the filter that we see through. Those moments where revelation hits a heart and truth is revealed are more stunning than the most beautiful sunset. If that is the image of one human encounter, imagine the scale of glory over the whole of humankind.