Boys will be boys.

13 Mar

Here’s a story which every time I tell it to women it causes a reaction of  “OH. MY. GOD.” and when I tell it to men it causes a reaction of “Yeah. For sure.”

Some years ago I used to live in a section of my city that has a fair number of ladies plying their trade on the corners.   These were not the glamorous ladies of Pretty Woman cinderella-tales. They were hardworking ladies who in all likelihood were supporting addictions or other problems with their work.  It’s hard to condemn them – they have reasons and situations often beyond my understanding or experience, but they sure did bring the tone of the neighborhood down. Um, further.    They made it hard for any male pulling up in  a vehicle outside my house, and caused my friend S to have to take her smoke break in the back yard, lest she be mistake for a loitering working lady. (In fairness to the Johns, that coat she had with the big faux fur collar was misleading at best.)

But the ones I found most curious were the morning hookers. The ones on the corners of my largely residential area at 7:30 in the  morning – I’d see them frequently on my way to work.  They puzzled me – I figured they had been out all night, had not made enough and were lingering in hopes of some extra work. But what hope at 7:30 am? Huh you would be surprised. I often saw trucks or cars pull up and around a corner as the ladies hurriedly followed.

When I began dating Mr Wry, I pointed this out to him one morning. “Look at them! Who’d have thought? A.m. hookers doing good business. What kind of guy is trolling for a hooker at 7:30 in the morning???”

Mr Wry looked at me like I was a bit slow.

“It would be easier in the morning,”  he stated, matter of factly,  going on to elaborate:

“If you stay out late to cheat on your wife, she would suspect you were cheating on her. Leave early for the office and you are just a hard working guy who wants to, um, get ahead.”

I stared at him for probably about a full  minute, probably not blinking once.

Morning hookers…who knew?


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