Are YOU a “Barter-Whore”?

It happens every weekend. You’ve probably seen it and just never realized it was going on. Maybe… you’ve even been a victim of it… I’m talking about…

“Barter-Whoring”.

Over the years I’ve observed this troubling epidemic–one that is as subtle and difficult to identify as it is repulsive when finally diagnosed. At surface level, it appears to be nothing more than admittedly shallow, but nevertheless innocent, socializing between men and women of a common age. But under closer scrutiny, what is revealed is a ring of prostitution the likes of which the Western Hemisphere has never seen.

Now for those of you who went to LaSalle, here is a brief definition to help you understand the concept (pay special attention to #3):

bar·ter (verb) [bahr-ter]

Let’s look at an example:

It starts innocently–“Fulanita de Tal is attending VELVET-ROPE LOUD MUSIC PARTY WEDNESDAYS @ Club Pretense”. The party is hosted by her “friend” who she “loves” and whose Facebook wall is littered with quotes from her like, “Where have you been hiding????????? ;-) lol”, evidencing this firm adoration. Come Wednesday, she yanks on her favorite IOS pattern dress, blow-dries her hair straight, and texts her “BFF” telling him that she’s on her way.

Three hours later, after grabbing a drink at Greenstreet so “everyone” knows she’s doing something better later, she arrives at the club. Her friend, who, thanks to the thousands he’s charged to his family’s platinum card at the establishment, or the fact that he didn’t pay much attention in high school to anything but being well-liked, and is now a promoter, is on a first name basis with the French Moroccan closet-homosexual mixed-martial artist asshole door-guy, gets her and her friends in.

Once inside, the party is really on. She puts on her best “I-don’t-see-you-looking-at-me” face, and follows homeboy to a table in the corner, adorned with the finest over-priced, ingeniously marketed, vodka bottles unearned money can buy. Because she’s actually “a self-reliant, independent woman” she takes the initiative and pours herself her own Vodka Redbull, kissing her beloved brother-from-another-mother on the cheek and yelling “Oh my God! I missed you!!!” as some terrible, over-produced Britney feat. Snoop Dogg Top-40 garbage gets the crowd going in the background.

Now some of you may say, “Well that’s just unfair–there’s nothing wrong with friends hooking each other up! He gets what he wants, and so does she.” And you’re right! Up until now, for however fake and contrived their mutually beneficial arrangement may be, it’s essentially a business transaction. Goods for goods. Service for service. And that is called…bartering. But this is where the “whoring” comes in…

Assuming it isn’t cut and dry, and she’s not performing any actual services on our VIP or any of his friends, what goods is our girl, Fulanita, really providing? Her personality? Oh, I’ve had hundreds of phenomenal conversations in clubs. All you have to do is find the right screaming-to-ear-distance ratio and you can totally get to know a new friend (assuming you don’t blow their eardrum out in the process).

Let’s be real. It’s her ass. And if it’s not her ass, it’s her chest. And if it’s not her chest, it’s her face. And if it’s not her face, well, then it’s her friend’s ass, chest, or face. The bottom line is, whether she’s actually whoring or not, Fulanita is trading the possibility of service, or simply the beauty of her female sexuality, for a place to sit and some energy-drink infused liquor.

Now, if you’re worried that you may be a barter-whore, here’s a simple acronym you can follow to figure it out:

BARTER: Basically Am Ready To Enter Regardless.

If after all this information, you know you sound a lot like Fulanita, but really want to get in to that club, chances are you’re a barter-whore. But there is one full-proof test–one that only you will know the answer to…

The next time you’re heading over 395, getting pumped for a night on the town, somewhere between texting, changing lanes, and fixing your make-up in the visor mirror, take a second and really ask yourself: Am I like Fulanita? Am I… about… to barter-whore? If you’re honest with yourself, the answer will come. And if not, then maybe later, your friend with the bottles will.

Cheers!

April 9th, 2008 | share