I'm not bragging. Also, this was not something that happened because I asked for or, gasp, paid for it. (If I did pay for a hooker and she just touched my face, you know what? She's getting a pretty, pre-tay bad review on yelp.com)
I was at a bachelor party for one of my good friends in Atlantic City. We were at Caesar's Casino, which, turns out, only has one bar. And that bar is pretty high class, with it's five dollar cover on a Saturday night. And they don't just let anybody in -- but apparently they do let hookers in who look like older versions of Molly Shannon.
It was five guys in suits and sport coats, drinking and talking, and then old hooker person rolled up.
"Hey guys, what's going on over here?"
And she was by herself. Talking to five guys, who you're at least a decade or two older than? At least bring a hooker friend, make it a little less awkward.
"We're here for his bachelor party, just hanging out. How are you?"
"I'm good. Just so you know, I'm an entertainer." And this is when we realized she's a hooker. I'm great with code. I'm practically that Beautiful Mind guy.
Our reaction to the entertainer line: "Oh! Cool." And a lot of nodding.
Hooker: "So what are your names?"
Of course at this point I respond by saying "James." Spoiler: James is not my name.
I don't know what it is about the situation, but when a hooker asks my name (pretty sure this was the first time that happened), my instinct says "lie." Why? Because if a hooker learns your real name, you'll burst into flames.
In all honesty, I don't know. Do I think the hooker's going to facebook me? Be checkin' out my vacay pics? That's the last thing I need! Somehow, that's an actual thought, as if the thing hookers really like is going out of their way to maintain relationships.
But I think a lot of people have that instinct, because 4 of the 5 guys in our group lied about their names. Also, this hooker should have been able to tell we weren't the hookeriest of bachelor parties. Here's the best way I can think of to illustrate that:
2 conversations had at this bachelor party: 1) how Kate Chopin's The Awakening is bullshit (and it is...Edna is SO WHINY before she goes all Jeff Buckley on everybody and walks into the gulf). 2) We talked about what our favorite kinds of apples were. "I'm done with red delicious. Granny Smith is fine, but it's no honeycrisp. Honeycrisp is the best eating apple, though it's not great for baking." WHAT about these vibes we're throwing off says we're ready for an illegal sex transaction? Was it my dangerous opinions on apples?!
Eventually she walked away from the table, said bye, but after that, grossly just pinched my cheek (not helping the age gap situation, grandma), and said "You're cute." I was not looking at her at the time, nor did I ever look at her again.
That was the end of that. What else happened that night? I broke even at the blackjack tables, stole a hot dog from a casino (you got PLAYED, Bally's), and almost chased a pigeon into the ocean. So, you know, consider this bachelor partied.
