During our lives, every woman will be faced with a decision. One can be a strong, hard-working, intelligent woman who understands chivalry and equality. One who works to love and respect knowing that that is the only way to be loved and respected in return. Women who, as they say, “Hold their heads, heels, and standards high.”
Or, one can be a Whoreon. Your decision on the matter is mind-numbingly clear.
You stand proud and loud and painfully insipid. You’ll show your vagina at every turn and demand to be treated like a lady when it’s convenient, declaring Cosmopolitan as your bible and crying when you get nothing on Valentine’s Day when that’s what you said you wanted in the goddamn first place.
All the flack I give to Men’s Health would not be necessary if you were not there to prove that their articles are somewhat based in truth.
You, women of jewelry, who will suck anyone’s dick for a diamond–traditionally known as prostitution.
You, women of The Bachelor. Week after week you show just how much you respect yourself and all other women by using your vagina to earn you a fucking flower–traditionally known as prostitution.
You, women of Toddlers And Tiaras. If I entered a pageant, but acted and dressed like a three-year-old, would you think I was making a fool of myself? Acting non-age appropriately? Would you be embarrassed for me? Imagine our horror when you dress your child like an adult and parade her on stage for money and trophies and crowns–traditionally known as prostitution.
Feminism lies in choice; we can choose to be whoever we want to be. By all means, live by your own rules, but understand that Newton was not wrong when he said every action leads to an equal and opposite reaction.
If you choose to ruthlessly lie, cheat, and steal to earn a man’s attention, you cannot be surprised when another does that to you (or when he turns out to be a gigantic douchebag). If you choose to be a barsexual, you cannot be surprised when you earn only sex, not respect. If you choose to dress in revealing clothing, then you cannot be surprised when people look at your body.
In that moment, you may be proud that you’re straddling that doucherocket, but you’re making a fool of yourself and of all other women by proudly and shamelessly upholding stereotypes.
Look in the mirror and ask yourself, “Who do I want to be?” If the steps you are taking right now will not help you become that woman, then grab your dignity and self-respect out of the gutter and choose a new path.
Noa D. Gavin
I sure as hell was a whoreon for a short period of time. My moment of clarity came in my Sophomore year of college when dating probably the largest douche who ever douched a douche. I moved 3 states away and changed my game after that.
Ever met a whoreon? Were you one yourself? What was your moment of clarity? Any advice for other women?– Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Jillian @ Brilliant Title: “I had to put down my bowl of cereal. Rice puffs and soy milk, in all their snobbishly healthy distain, burn real bad when coming through the nose.”