Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Tales of a messed up existance Part I

I was hanging out at this club in the Times Square area. The girl/guy ratio was absurd approximately 10:1. Most of the women at the party were gorgeous, thin, successful and slightly pretentious. The ratio however emboldened me to do things I would never have done in normal circumstances. I would walk up to some females, look them in the eye and say `why don`t you buy me a drink`. Others I would introduce myself to and tell them right away I had money for a cab, a queen size bed at home and 100 mil of Viagra. I didn`t care about rejection that night, as the lack of males in the room created an environment ridiculously in my favor.

A few hours and many drinks (snuck in) later I left the club to face my queen size bed alone. The best I could look forward to was an hour long, Viagra induced masturbation session to some brand new porn obtained from one of the last remaining adult bookstores around the forty deuce. Before Disney,Applebees and Hello Kitty, 42nd street was a haven for raunchy uncensored sex, the center of the world for debauchery be it live, in print or on the big screen. My 17th year saw most of my McDonalds wages spent on lap dances from a 24 year old Miami transplant with an amazing body and a killer coke habit in one of the seedier places around the Ave. Years later I`m stumbling around the area bumping into Manhattan hipsters, Midwestern family tourists and the occasional hooker who at this point has become something of a relic in the neighborhood.

`Hey baby..wanna date` she says to me her fake chinchilla draped over a skin tight hot pink one piece. She shuffles me into a doorway on Eighth Avenue while aggressively propositioning me.

`No..I`m good` I reply as I feel her hands move up my thigh. She starts to fondle my intoxicated member which passed out three drinks and four dance floor rejections ago.

`Come on baby..You fine..Let me get some of this`

Undeterred I again decline and pull myself away from this prostitutes spell. I am focused on porn and thinking about `Little White Chicks and Monster Black D*cks #13.` Leaving her to her own devices I find my way to the video store, locate my purchase and prepare to pay for it and jump on the train. That`s when I realize that my money was gone. Whenever you loose money, it usually takes a few minutes for the realization to actually click after you search your pockets multiple times. This time however, I immediately knew that the hooker who was feeling me up in the corner was merely distracting me so that she could pick my pockets.

Bubbling over with anger, I raced down the street to find her as I started to sober up. Spotting her on the corner I went up to her and asked for my money back. I told her I knew what she did, and all I wanted was what she took from me with no hard feelings. She denied taking anything, and barely admitted that the above exchange took place. I was at a loss. School teaches you many things but not important life lessons like how to successfully confront a prostitute. Angry and still drunk I wanted my money back, but short of physically assaulting her I didn`t know what to do. That`s when I saw her approach another potential trick/mark out the corner of my eye.

Springing into action I walked over to them and screamed out to the guy `watch out..shes a pickpocket and a theif..stay away from her!` The guy bent a hasty retreat while checking for his wallet. Figuring that if I couldn`t get my funds back I would at least make sure that she didn`t make any money for the rest of the night. I spent the next few hours following her up and down 42nd street yelling out to all her potential customers what they were dealing with. After a few hours of this harassment, she eventually gave up working for the night, jumped in a cab and went her way. Feeling vindicated, I was able to buy my porn and smile all the way home.


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Thursday, September 07, 2006 8:34:00 PM  

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