Are the Hooters Girls prostitutes? Looking through my search terms, I cam across this little gem. The most obvious answer is no, Hooters Girls are most certainly not prostitutes. I don't walk up to my tables and say, "How 'bout some wings, hot and extra wet....oh and a blow job?" While I'm sure many people would appreciate the added bonus of a sexual favor here and there, it most certainly isn't going to happen at Hooters. I'll sell you wings until I'm blue in the face, but I will never sell you my body.
I mean really, who even asks such a question? Do you think the waitress at Perkin's is a prostitute? How about the nice girl at the coffee hut you frequent in the mornings? Or what about the guy at the McDonald's drive through if that's more your thing? You would never assume that these individuals are prostitutes. Why would you assume that I am? Oh that's right, I serve food with a smile and dash of sexuality. It's not an overt sexuality; it's a playful, innocent and even naive sexuality. Apparently, this sexual undertone makes me a prostitute. Guess I missed that one in my job description. Must have fallen right between "girl next door" and "all-American cheerleader type" in the manual.
My question is why would one assume that prostitution is a part of Hooters? Obviously, as I said above, this has something to do with the way I dress because really that is the major difference between Hooters and any other sports bar. I mean I also hula hoop, sing, dance, and actually get to know my customers incredibly well, but I'm pretty sure none of those things are red flags that Hooters is a bastion of the sex trade. So that leaves the fact that I wear a tank top, shorts, nylons and atrocious socks. Sounds like the outfit of a high-class whore to me. I mean really, what more could a man want then a pair of ultra nude pantyhose and smell ass socks to go along with his hour of paid sexual promiscuity?
Hate to break it to you, but Hooters really is just about the food...and the breasts. Unfortunately (for horny, lonely men at least) the breasts aren't for sale. Hate to be a heartbreaker or a cockblock, but if I wanted to be a prostitute I'd move to the Bunny Ranch and change my name. I'll stick with wings.