At Culver’s I saw a man dressed like a whore.

I saw him driving a fancy(er) car in the parking lot, wearing cool sunglasses, I figured he was one of the hundreds of leaf-peepers who come up from Chicago or downstate with their wives or girlfriends at this time of year, but when he came into the restaurant and sat down. He was dressed like he had just come from the gym; at first I thought it was a singlet, but it was a loose and low tank top, and little polyester booty shorts, both black.

He was with another man, about his same age, probably, similar build, athletic clothing, too, but baggier. Overall less kempt with extra weight. And they together were with a teenage boy–if I had to guess, the son of the lesser-kempt man. But I guess the details don’t matter, here, except for my people-watching fascination.

My point really is that he was dressed like a whore. When he passed my booth, I thought, whoa, that man is wearing underwear.

When we call someone a whore, are we necessarily saying that they are a sex worker, trading acts of sexuality or companionship for money, goods, or services? Or is the word a synonym of slut, meaning, someone who likes sex? I tend to think that more and more we mean it in the second way. That although it probably first refers to a sex worker, it’s been used flippantly and derogatorily out of context enough that its meaning is diluted.

So let me start over.

I was in Culvers and I was dressed like a whore: brown duck cloth work pants covered in paint and caulk, an old button front dress shirt that’s about two washes from being so thin its yolk rips when I stretch, my Blundstones that I’ve abused, a hat I don’t care about.

Hell, if I’m honest, I’m dressed like a whore now: oversized sweatpants, black, and hoodie, bright pink.

My hot take is we all like sex, so we’re all dressed as whores.

My first thought when he passed my table was, “whoa, that man is wearing underwear.” Then it was: Wait he’s with that other man and his teenage kid, not leaf-peeping with his bro and their girlfriends like I had assumed. Maybe all three just came from the gym? Maybe they’re a gay couple and this is their kid? Maybe he’s a trainer and this kid is the next great track star, and his dad is along for the ride? Somewhere along the line I thought, I wish I had the confidence and the body to wear underwear to Culvers.