Dear Sir,

You may not intend any harm, but repeatedly staggering up and down the same cosmetics aisle with dead eyes and a slack jaw is, well, creepy. Especially with that tube of hemorrhoid cream in your hand. Please go away.

Best,

Adair

In this "I'm not a feminist, I'm an equalist" era, I know what I'm about to say will make me sound shrewish and vile and--nightmare of nightmares!--not "sex-positive", but I have to say it anyway:

Could we please stop pretending prostitution is glamorous? Or that a woman who becomes a prostitute is "making it"? (Yes, ha ha, I get the pun.)

Even if we were magically transported to a patriarchy- and misogyny-free land where sex work was just like any other kind of work, it would top out at just that: work. Drudgery. As it is, the prostitution industry is linked with a lot of violence, exploitation, addiction, human trafficking, and pretty much every other shittastic idea the human race has ever thought up, including the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Reasonable people can disagree about whether the solution is to "écrasez l'infame!" or to fight for the dignity of sex work--to try to make it so that the high-priced call girl with full agency and excellent medical care is not the Sasquatch-rare exception but the rule. But in neither case should pin-up glamorization play a part.

My hatred, it bubbles over**. And this clinches it: I am never subscribing to Showtime.

** Except at whichever of my neighbors did this to the poster in my subway station. To that person, shiny unicorn rainbows forever!