In the past, I have posted several things you may not know about me. I always leave one out because it sounds worse than it is. This weekend, something happened, that I couldn’t help but want to blog about it.
I’ll start at the beginning.
When I was a teen, I was walking in California from a party with my parents back to the hotel. Because I was a teen, I wanted to be independent (i.e., far away from parents), so my friend and I were walking ahead of the adults. It was far enough away that I could hear them talking, but we felt as though we looked like we were on our own. The party we were coming from was a formal thing, so we were wearing cocktail dresses. A car pulled up and asked “how much”? Being naive, we didn’t know what they were asking until they realized that we didn’t know what they were talking about, and drove off. We were confused for prostitutes.
When I was in college, I went to a club with several friends. It was boring. There was a guy that we met who was talking about this other club that was great, we should join him. Being smart young ladies, we knew not to go with him in his car, but we took a cab to the club he was talking about and asked the cab driver to stay there while we checked it out. Two went in (the guy left our names at the door to get by the line to get in), looked like a legit place, it was not hard to get a cab where we were, so we went in. It was a busy club. There seemed to be a lot of men and not as many women, but the women that were there seemed more.. “open about their sexuality” than we were used to, but “to each their own”, we thought. All of us had many men hitting on us. It was creepy. It wasn’t totally odd to have someone be interested, offer to buy a drink, but it was unusual to be this popular. It just felt weird when we were in there, no one had anything to drink, so we decided to leave. One of the friends wanted to use the restroom before leaving. She went to find the bathroom and found “private rooms” instead. We were invited to a brothel.
Fast forward again to last Saturday night in my kitchen. I get a call from someone, we will call him “John”. “John” called my cell phone and left a message. When I saw it, I didn’t recognize his name, but said he was in the town I moved from in March and a friend told him to call me. I couldn’t imagine which of my friends would “John” to call me, nor about what, but I called him back. When he answered he said that his friend told him to call me, he was in town for a few nights. I asked which friend and why they suggested he call me. He hesitated and mumbled something. I asked him to repeat that and he said a friend told him to call and I could help him. (I figured by this point it was a wrong number, but was curious. Maybe there was a freak chance this was legit, but thought it was more likely he thought I was a drug dealer. Still wrong, but curiosity got the better of me.) I asked him “help you with what, exactly?” He said, again hesitating, “you know… for a date.” I laughed loudly and said “You DEFINITELY have the wrong number” and hung up.
If you don’t know me, you should know that I dress pretty conservatively. The dress from the cocktail party was made by my mother (who is VERY conservative). Even my club clothes were always very conservative (plus it was winter, so I had higher neckline and long sleeves, etc.) I don’t know how “Hi, leave me a message” on my cellphone can be imply house of ill repute, but apparently something about me screams prostitute. I don’t get it.
Has something like this ever happened to you?