A Week of Hookers and Drugs
Recently, I decided to take a walk on the wild side with some hookers and drugs to see what the undercurrent of that subculture is really like. I experimented with both in a location in which prostitution is legal, and where small amounts of cocaine and marijuana have been decriminalized. Night after night, for a week, I went out in search of female company. I was nothing short of surprised at what I found.
I never purchased drugs. But if I was offered free use of them, I didn’t refuse. The women I met (many of them very attractive and clean) destroyed popular myths about ladies of the night. There were some honest to goodness 7s, 8s, and 9s in my bedroom each night. Popular culture paints them as nothing more than rancid skanks who fuck anything that walks.
Here’s the truth. Many of them just like to party. Many of them just like to fuck. Many of them don’t want to work at GloboWorldCorp jobs with shit pay and the torture that is endless office courtiership. Many of them turn down potential Johns. I saw it happen right in front of me where they work. Most of them are not helplessly addicted to drugs. (Though most will have some in their possession.) None of them were forced into the trade by pimps, or blackmailed into being “sex slaves”, destroying the “human trafficking” narrative Anglo America is spinning. None of them felt victimized by men, nor did they make me feel like what we were doing was “oppressing” them.
I must say, dealing with whores is perhaps the best way for the inexperienced man to learn about female nature. The unvarnished truth about women comes out when you deal with hookers on a regular basis.
Women want money, period. All women. Including that one you think you have locked down in a relationshit or sham of a marriage right now. (Reference my article on the topic of all men paying for sex – not just those who rent a whore.) But that’s the nature of the beast. The good thing about hookers is they don’t hide female nature from you. Money for sex is the transaction, up front, and when it’s over both parties go their separate ways. You don’t have to lose your life savings in a frivorce to learn female nature. Just rent a whore once in a while, observe, and you’ll get the gist of what women are inside.
Most women try to hide their true intentions behind layers of well-practiced sophistry, but a man who is well-experienced with women of both high and low socioeconomic status knows that deep down he’s nothing but a meal ticket to the predatory female. I actually appreciated the honesty of most of the hookers, and the fact they fucked better than the “high-class” women I had to deal with when I wore a suit and a tie in my previous career.
The recreational drugs were an added bonus. Far from destroying my life and turning me into an instant addict, they only enhanced my experience as I took a walk on the wild side. The sex and drugs were good, in soul-satisfying way. I remember becoming very pissed off that Anglo culture robs men of the experience of recreational drugs and recreational sex, instead telling them a career in a corporate job will satisfy every desire they have.
After I had my fill of pussy, blow, and grass, I remember walking away totally satisfied, and not at all remorseful for having conducted my experiment. I came away with a new appreciation for hookers and occasional use of recreational drugs. The key is balance. Being starved of both is probably why most guys go completely crazy and destroy their lives when they encounter cheap pussy and cheap drugs.
One important footnote: Dealing with ladies like this isn’t risk-free. Far from being “victims” some women let their predatory nature roam wild and free when they work as whores. One night during my experiment, I came across two hookers who wanted to drug me into passing out and then rob me. One of the two kept dropping massive amounts of blow into my nose with a straw she had. I caught on to their game fast, and got the fuck out of there. Yes, that’s a risk of dealing with this subculture. If you want to be completely safe, stay at home beating off is my view.
All in all, I never felt more alive inside than I did during my week-long experiment. I certainly felt happier than I ever did in my decade toiling in the fake news business, trawling the bottom of the pond to see what kind of “date” I could find. Why these passing pleasures are made “immoral” and taboo in a deeply sexually repressed culture is still beyond my comprehension. Why men put up with having their basest desires shamed is amazing to me.
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