FREE SEX: The Year of the Whore
(photo by Maurizio Fornino)
Free Sex
The Year of the Whore
By Peter Pony Clement
New York City loves a good comeback. Had a rough year? Fate not treated you fairly? Maybe you just slacked off more in the past year than you had planned. As the year comes to a close, its time to reevaluate the things in our lives that might need some change set into motion.
We are all whores. We live in New York City. Everyone has an agenda, and everyone is competing with everyone else for the same goals, the same jobs, the same press and the same praise for a job well done. We do what we have to, to make things work. That makes us whores.
Now, before you get your panties in a bundle, let's be very clear about something: I'm not necessarily saying that you fucked your boss for that big promotion, but in my book, there's really no difference between getting paid for the act of sex, and getting paid to sit in an office for eight or more hours, being someone’s bitch in all ways other than the sexual kind. Maybe you didn't fuck him. Maybe you're a girl who just wore your skirt shorter in the office to make the boss notice, or a guy who flirted with the right woman to get the right interview set up, even though you're a guy who likes dudes.
Basically what I'm saying is, if you're workin’ for the man, you're a workin’ gal. And if you aren't workin’ for the man, you’re even more of a workin’ gal, ‘cause you hustle to make your way in this city harder than those who have the safety net called an employer or in a lot of common cases at the moment, unemployment benefits courtesy of the federal government.
I have never been paid for sex. Well, actually, it happened once. I didn't plan for it to happen though. It just kind of did. But it enlightened me to this concept at a young and impressionable age. I met a guy who I had a great one night stand with—you know, the in and out, no muss, no fuss. I was about 20 at the time, fresh out of a long-term relationship. It was liberating to have a no strings kinda fling. As I was on my way home from his place, I felt in my pocket, and there was a roll of twenties neatly banded with a rubber band. I couldn't return it, as I didn't have his phone number. In that moment, I realized I had been paid for sex. For a second I felt like I should feel ashamed of myself, but instead it dawned on me that I had been prostituting my time and my energy and my talents for years, even if it wasn't in the bedroom. And I certainly hadn't been as well compensated for them. Instead of beating myself up over it, I allowed myself to be empowered by what had happened.
Since then I have never had sex for money, even though I most certainly have had my fair share of offers, and am not opposed to those who do accept when offered, or even seek it out. However, I do continue to whore my time and my energy and talents out to serve my goals, my dreams. To fulfill the things in life that need filling. The ones that can't be ignored. You know the ones I'm talking about. You do it too.
Like I mentioned before, New York loves a good comeback. So if you've been slacking on your ho stroll, pick up the pace! Make sure this upcoming year is your year! Make your dreams a reality, or at least bring your ass a bit closer to making them real. And remember, there is no shame in working what you've got. It’s amazing what people do in this town to pay the bills and make the time to do what's meaningful to them. Tough times call for serious action. Know that you are not alone, that adversity is the prosperity of the great, and if you just happen to be slipped a bundle of twenties after a fun night in the sack with a stranger, well, I guess consider yourself lucky.
Happy New Year!
Wanna send me hate mail? Love mail? Any kind of mail? Hit me up. I welcome your feedback: ponyboypc@gmail.com
