The Vegas Vixen Paradox

Thursday, February 4, 2010 | 2 Comment(s)

I'm not sure if it needs to be said explicitly, but i will anyway: Vegas is known for its prostitutes.  Said more accurately, Vegas is known for its hookers, massage parlors, call girls, strippers, back rooms, lap dances, delivery hookers (they bring em right to your room), and the invention of dollar bills as sexual currency.  There are men at every corner slapping leaflets against their hands to advertise for massage parlors.  Everywhere.  I swear a significant percentage of people on the strip at any given time are naked.    In short.  They are there.  They are everywhere.

But here is the thing.  The number of women in Vegas that look like hookers . . . I mean women that look like you could pay for their services . . .  Are everywhere.  In numbers so large that they could not possibly all actually be prostitutes.  Because, apparently there is something about Vegas that, much like the Halloween Vortex, makes it allowable (and even encouraged) for women to dress outlandishly slutty.  Dresses were so short that i saw more than one crotch flash in my 4 days.   Is there something about being in the presence of actual hookers that makes women want to fit in with them?  It was strange.

I will say this Paradox was accentuated by the popularity of the new term "cougar."  I saw some old meat that looked like it was bound together by the saran wrap clinging to its flesh.  Dressed up old lady is still old lady.  And I saw MUCH more of it that I felt altogether comfortable with.  Perhaps I should start redefining my image of "old," because Vegas is lightyears ahead of me.  

All and all i left Vegas realizing two things from the women around me.

1)  Vegas's sadness is accentuated by the fact that everyone in Vegas is single (or acting single).  The lack of bonds gives a sense of a lack of bonds.

2)  I could never live in Vegas for an extended amount of time and come away with a healthy relationship to women in general.  The mere fact that the first thought that entered my mind when I looked at provocatively dressed women was, "is she a hooker?" would doom me to constant objectification.  It's just another part of the sickness that is Sin City.