About Me

My photo
Despite many failed attempts to exercise more, eat better, and take better care of myself, I've decided to make the "Trophy Wife Resolution." Since I am the complete anti-thesis of a trophy wife, let's see if I can rise to the challenge!

Saturday, July 9, 2011

$9 Call Girl

After maintaining a sleep diary for two months and trying to battle insomnia with her daily dose of 3 mg of melatonin, the Jewish Mutha felt it was time for me to make good on my end of the bargain. With school out, the kids, the Harvard Valedictorian, and I trekked to New Jersey.

During our time there, the Alpha Male and I were able to sneak out for dinner at a restaurant we used to frequent when we lived in Edgewater, New Jersey. Heaven back then was having a place to eat within a 3 minute walking distance that offered good food and ambience, allowing us to comfortably escape our newborn parenting responsibilities for an hour.

Since I have a reputation for being perpetually late, the Alpha Male reminded me that I should make every effort to be on time. To do so, I did not have time to put on any make-up. I threw on the only outfit that wasn't drenched in animal hair.

Although the Alpha Male was traveling from several states away, he developed amnesia about what it was like to travel in summer rush hour traffic into New York's Port Authority on a Friday. Needless to say, when I arrived 10 minutes early, he called to let me know he'd be at least an hour late.

At that point, my only option was to be the first person to sit at the bar drinking a white russian and to blankly watch the Ryan O'Neil and Farrah Fawcett story without sound. About 15 minutes later, a 60-something well-dressed man sat a seat away from me. A few minutes more went by and he asked, "How much?"

I looked at my drink and said, "I assume that it's about $9."

"That's it?," he asked, raising the white caterpillars above his eyes.

"That appears to be the going rate this days," I replied.

"OK. Let's go," he said getting up from his chair.

It dawned on me: He thought I was a prostitute.

I raised my ringed finger (when I probably should have given him my middle one in retrospect), and said, "I'm not going anywhere."

Embarrassed, he slid two seats over, ordered a hamburger and tried to eat as fast as possible.

The female bartender, who witnessed the entire exchange, slid me another white russian. She said, "Sweetheart, this one is on the house."

Another guy out of MTV's Jersey Shore -- about my middle age -- wound up sitting next to me. He didn't start talking to me until this trio from "Jersey's hood" started a game of quizzing what New Jersey songs we should request from the piano player.

About an hour and a half later, the Alpha Male walks in to see me drinking and conversing with the Jersey hood. He walked over to the bar, gently grabbed my arm to steer me away and asked, "Getting re-acquainted with the locals, I see?"

I told him it was his lucky night. He scored the $9 call girl.

3 comments:

  1. Trophy Wife ResolutionAugust 19, 2011 at 1:08 PM

    Hello. Could you please clarify your statement?

    ReplyDelete
  2. oh my gosh!! i HAD NEVER HEARD this one jen!! HAHAHAHAHAH!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Trophy Wife ResolutionAugust 16, 2013 at 9:14 AM

    Yes, Mimi Bookbabe, it was a special night:)

    ReplyDelete