Yes, I’m a whore. So…?

Published at the Libertines Pub, Hong Kong

Last week a famous Hong Kong actor openly criticised those hot teen models as disgusting. He even went this far to call them whores.

Judging from the actor’s bad-boy image and his history of being outspoken, I don’t find this news particularly surprising. What actually amused me was the models’ feedback. They were upset and denied that they were whores. They claimed what they were doing were just photographs and not immoral at all.

Thing is, what’s the big deal about being called a whore? If I were them, I would take it with self-respect because:

1. Being called a whore means I got paid for hard skilled work.

2. It means I’m pleasing people and people find me pleasing.

3. It means I’m someone who actually lives in the real world, not like those basement dwellers who keep whining about how unfair the world is and how universal suffrage can solve their problems, from housing to finding someone to date.

At least for me, being a whore is more respectable than those “empowered” chicks who hang around in some “trendy” membership clubs, thinking they worth a billion dollars from bankers, but end up giving them sex for free. Whores are at least more realistic than those wannabes, who invest for the future by sleeping with a random guy who claim himself to be a photographer/director/Feng Shui master. Whores make business travellers’ lives eaiser. Authentic Kong-gals simply can’t pick up the hints when these lonely roamers mention the time of their flight and the hotel they are staying.


And by the way, I’m also an attention-seeking whore, a photo whore, a chat whore, a facebook whore, a blog whore and an office whore (um, I mean, I sold my body to the office from 9am to 6pm, Mondays to Sundays but my soul is barely there). In the broader sense of the word, everyone is a ho in some way.

That’s why I begin to adore Crystal Chow Ching, who earlier admitted she had worked for a nightclub as a “dance girl” (which, in Cantonese, hints at a young girl selling sex with or without intercourse), though I think she’s plain at the beginning despite Henry’s favour. She stays cool with her confession as she regards her working history as neutral as yours and mine. A chick with attitude.

As a final note, let me quote my favourite author of the 50s, Eileen Chang, here: “Marriage is just long-term whoring.” So ladies, stop worrying.