My great granpappy once told me, while we was sittin’ on a stump and sippin’ moonshine: “Boy, you aint a man unless you make the whores cry.
“See, they got this whole Oedipus complex thing goin on, sorta. Not by technical definition because that applies to men, nor its female counterpart the Electra complex, but a thing of its own that only applies to whores. Not just professional whores, but women in general, y’see.
“When they start sproutin hairs on their chowderbox, and if’n they aint frightenin’ to look at, menfolk wanna fuck’em. They get big swollen egos, and they start to thinkin their monkeyhole is worth somethin’. But their souls are empty, and if their guts aint fulla dong they start thinkin bout their daddy. But, they is whores after all, and its your job to spank em because their daddy aint there to do it himself.
“But you still gotta get what you paid for, be it a cash transaction or the barter system, so you gotta work doubly hard to do the job of two men. Thats what bein a man is all about, boy. Doin what it takes. Knowin what the job really is, understandin your task. Livin up to your Ex-Peck-Tay-Shuns! When you do your job right, there aint nuthin left for another man to do, its been done.”