I know two friends who solicited the services of whores. Their stories, despite the superficial differences, are disturbing yet humorous. I understand prostitution is pretty normal throughout the world, and even encouraged in some parts to help young men without means alleviate their swollen scrotes, but it still sounds strange to hear my American friend admit he paid for sex.
I don’t get the allure. Even during my driest spells I never entertained the option of paying a whore for a nut-relieving bang. I was never so lazy that handing over a few bills to a skank seemed like an acceptable substitute to going out and grinding my way through the field until I found a skank who wouldn’t request cash up front. Also, I’m a romantic at heart. I need to know the woman wants to be there.
I think most men would agree with me that it’s hard not to feel like a loser if you paid for it. But would you be?
Friend A drove to New York back when the city still had some gritty grottos. He enthusiastically described the scene for me. He pulled his car up to the curb between two street lights at 3AM, rolled down his window, and within a minute a mid-20s stringy-haired brunette stumbled up in her heels. They spent a few seconds bartering and she got in the car on the passenger side. She was efficient and skilled, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and freeing his member in one smooth uninterrupted motion. As her head bobbed up and down on his lap he leaned back with an ear-to-ear grin on his face, locked his hands behind his head, and stared up at the roof of his car. A random pedestrian shuffled by and paid him no notice. At the moment of sweet release, he jerked and hit his head on the roof while knocking her into the steering wheel. She continued unfazed. It was all over as soon as it had begun. My friend remembered pondering Socratic-like during the act how easy and convenient it had all seemed. He seemed not to nurse any psychic distress over his decision to advertise failure in the sexual marketplace.
Friend B would frequent a Korean-run “massage” parlor for their “happy endings”. Heaven to him was having some random Asian bring him to climax with the professionalism and dedication to craft of a Samurai. The place he went to was known by the local cops. They never cracked down because they were enjoying the same services. My friend told me the Asian girls who worked there were really robotic about the whole thing. They would bark orders at him to undress and turn over, and then pump his cock like a piston after applying a variety of Oriental herbs and lubes. Usually the girl had tiny hands and had to stimulate him with both, which made him feel like a bigger man and boosted his ego major. She utilized a twisting motion that my friend described as the “Secret Asian Stroke”. Occasionally, another female employee would casually amble in and out of the room to get something while he was in the middle of his happy ending. After he busted, his little China girl would towel the gobs off and say “OK, you done now. Get dressed.” and perfunctorily exit the room, leaving him there in the empty room with a desktop statue of Buddha grinning at his deflating penis.
You probably have an image in your head of these two guys being total losers; short, fat, acne-ridden, greasy-haired, socially inept, smelly, poor, binge-drinking omegas who creep out girls before they’ve even opened their mouths, and you’d be half right. One of the guys was married to an attractive woman, had a good-paying high status job, and could charm the skirts off girls at parties.
Does that fact change your perception? They both did the same thing — paying money to a whore for sexual gratification — and yet for some reason the visceral reaction to peg these guys as losers for visiting prostitutes is not as strong for the married guy. You ladies might even be amused by his antics, excusing them with the rationale that sometimes guys just “like the idea of paying for it from strange women”. Maybe you think he is an alpha whose wife gave him permission to blow off steam with nubile sex workers. Oh sure, you wag your finger at his sinful ways, but you don’t feel the same instinctual disgust for the alpha male who goes to a hooker.
Soliciting whores is a leading indicator of loser betatude, but it isn’t a defining characteristic. Betas are and always will be men who disgust women because they aren’t as high status as the men women want to fuck, no matter what their moral virtue. Betas get no pass, all the blame, and no praise, regardless of the facts.
Can you guess which of my friends in the stories above was the loser?
Answer: Friend A was the loser. Try to imagine the quality of cheap hooker you’ll confront on deserted city streets at 3AM. Hint: It ain’t 5 diamond.