Be a Hoe

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This is essay is a short response to no one, but also to everyone. And also for me. Because I have feelings for someone who has no idea, will never have any idea, and who I feel will never feel the same way. So, I guess I’ll hoe it out until I return to normal. Yeah I’m dramatic. What’s new?

If it’s who you are, be a hoe. Do it because it’s fun.

Unlike the pretentious daylight exchanges between people who meet up soberly under the guise of getting coffee or seeing a movie, you know why you came. You came to fuck.

And fucking a virtual stranger can be great; the excitement of the chase, the kiss against the wall outside of the bar, the anticipation, the awkward moaning of a name you barely know, the pleasure, the release, the fun, the pillow-talk.

So, be a hoe this one time. If not for the pleasure, do it for the pain. Do it because you might learn the depths to which a human can love, but also the depths to which a human can hurt. Do it so you will learn that you have the ability to cause hurt– to be villainous, vindictive, petty, and evil. Understanding the nuances of your own humanness is a vital component of being a good person. Am I wrong?

Basically, do it for yourself. If you have a hoe phase, you will know both pleasure and heartbreak. Though satisfied in your physical wants, you will learn that no amount of Lululemon on your body will ever lift your ass up enough to make someone want to text you back. But rejection is a good thing for your character. For I am of the sincere opinion that rejection breeds resilience. And resilience is the marking characteristic of those invincible in spirit.

You will learn you can do hard things; you can reconcile with the fact that we are temporary, that not everyone will like you, that not everyone will want you. And, in time, heartbreak will force you to be content with yourself; your silly laugh, your weird obsession with documentaries, your collection of succubus plants and your extensive knowledge on the conspiracy theories surrounding New York’s rat problem.

At the very least, do it for the story. Do it because maybe you will end up tripping on acid in the back of Anthony Kiedis’s bus. Maybe you will fall in love with the anonymity of the darkness and never wear a color other than black again. Maybe you will make your friends laugh at brunch tomorrow. Or maybe you will write the next great American novel about the time you tried anal. Who knows.

If it feels right, be a hoe. It’s what Lana del Rey would want for you.

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