The Insane: Unintelligible, Inescapable, Inevitable

Recently, Comrade X was sitting on the stoop of an apartment building waiting for a fellow revolutionary when he was approached by a rather disreputable-looking individual (Nota bene: this apartment building was in a not-so-desirable section of town adjacent to a desirable section of town, similar to where Comrade X himself lives, his domicile sandwiched in a thin strip of seeming seediness between two of the major bastions of Bourgeois Ostentation in this town), who treated him to the following unprovoked conversation. Appearing seemingly out of nowhere, this bedraggled, unsavory member neither of the Bourgeois Oppressors nor the Proletarian Revolutionaries, but rather one of those who exist on the fringes of the social order and thus are not really part of the coming class war, this thus classless entity sparked the following conversation:

"You look like you could use a beer."
As it was three o'clock in the afternoon, I did not in fact feel that I needed a beer, and, wondering what a person who needed a beer actually looked like, or rather what cues were given off as to the presence of the desire or need for alcohol (of which my interlocutor had recently consumed sufficient amounts to create a three-foot surrounding aura of beer effluvia), I began to ask, "What makes you think I need a beer?" when I was suddenly interrupted by this question:
"Are you a virgin?"
This question, a propos of nothing, startled me, and wondering how he could think that a.) I was in need of alcohol, and b.) I had heretofore never engaged in sexual relations, I was too stunned to come up with any other than a rather less-than-articulate "Wha?", when he preceded to offer his services to correct the assumed problem:
"Cause I could take you to some places, but when we get there, remember: I'm in charge!"
"Okay," I said, realizing too late that in assenting to let him be "in charge" in those places as-yet-unmentioned where he was now honor-bound to take me, I had also assented to the proposition that I was a.) a virgin, and b.) desirous of correcting that condition, and c.) desirous also of his company and aid in doing so. All this began to be a little too much, and so when I began to decline his services, he ended our little tete-a-tete with this startling command:
"Never, ever sell your girlfriend for sex!"
Then, wandering off and shouting back his delayed introduction ("I'm Raven!"), I was left to wonder how and why one would, in fact, sell one's girlfriend for sex, assuming that if one had a girlfriend they would a.) be getting sex, b.) probably not be white slavers, and c.) possibly not be so stupid as to sell the sex they're getting for sex that is only temporary and possibly promissory.

How does one sell one's girlfriend for sex? Raven, please respond -- I am unable to answer this most provocative of paradoxes! But no, I'm sure he's out there, peripatetically wandering like some Greek philosopher of old, offering us only paradox through which we can think our way to reason.

Thank you, Raven, for the Good Works you are doing in our community! Fucking hell.