What would prompt a Ho to change her phone number?

27 Sep

I was thinking about it.
Thinking of it for a couple months.
Pondering making such a daring move.

Sunday night, I dialed *611 and made that shit happen without any fuckin hesitation!

The events leading up to the changing of the phone number I have had since I was 10?
Allow me to share.
This is all a rapid fire succession between three culprits:

Jim (buddy of Mr. Wrong)
Mr. Superfan (he stole my number from my facebook wall and has been texting me randomly ever since.)
Mr. Editor (Who now knows my true identity…I asked if he wanted to meet in the flesh, and gave him my number.)

SUNDAY, 4PM:

Received the first of three photo messages from Mr. Wrongs friend, Jim.

The first photo?
Mr. Wrong with his less-than-godlike body, sleeping in boxers, on a hotel bed.
The caption reads: “I think Brothel Babe can do so much better than this. You shouldn’t give it away for free.”

2nd photo:
Another photo. A random coworker standing over Mr. Wrong while he still sleeps on hotel bed.
Jim’s Caption reads: “He got too drunk last nite to wake up!!!!”

30 minutes later: The text session from Superfan begins.
Some friendly banter about how rad I am.

How is brothel life, Superfan wants to know.
This is fine.

7pm:
3rd photo received from Jim.

Its a view of the beautiful villa from where they are catering some wonderful wedding.
I see the silhouette of Mr. Wrong in his classic white shirt and black trousers…setting up a a place setting…with candles and flowers in the background. The villa is beautiful and there is a flurry of people in the background.

Caption from Jim Reads: It’s beautiful. Wish you were here.

My response to Jim:
I request (politely) for him not to end me photos of Mr. Wrong, as he no longer will respond to my messages.

“Stop.” I say. “It hurts.”

Jim says:
“Ok. No more. Promise.”

30 minutes later???
MORE messages from Superfan!:

“I’m getting drunk. I’m really attracted to you and I feel guilty that I have a girlfriend.
Can you send those photos, of you in the biker gear?”

I oblige. I send the photos. (I’M A DUMBASS.)

Meanwhile, ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING is happening in the brothel.
It’s a dead zone. All I hear is the rumbling of motorcycles in the background.
I’m physically worn out.

Rapid fire text messages continue between Superfan and the Babe,
while I am watching episodes of 30 Rock and Fringe on Hulu.

“I wish you didn’t work in a brothel. You. Are. Beautiful.”
he says.

Endearing. Great.

I say I count on his humor to brighten my day in this dull brothel. Say thank you.
This is about the point I pass out for a 3 or four hour nap.
I wake up to a bell for another lineup for somebody who wants to look but not buy.
I get coffee.
Make attempts to stay awake for my shift.
Its 1am by now.
I return to my room to see a text message from Mr. Editor.

“Its 3am here. I’m afraid I think of you entirely too much.”

Bored outta my skull and feeling adventurous, I think,
“If he can text me right now then I can call him. I want to hear his voice.”

So I call. Fuck it.
Voice on the phone: “Really?….Really?” (i.e. are you REALLY calling me right now when its 3something in the morning my time? For the first time?)

Yes Mr. Editor, I am calling you, because my shift just started and I had a lot of caffeine.

Mr. Editors words are jumbley like he’s having trouble finding the right ones. He’s out somewhere noisy. Some party city in the east, judging by the time difference. The only sentence that happened that I could remember was this:

“I figured talking to you would be one of those ‘well that was amusing’ situations.
I am sort of…..displeased…that you are still talking to me.”

Before I can figure out what the FUCK a word like “displeased” is supposed to mean…
the phone line goes dead.
Call back.
Straight to voice mail.
Really?
Call back in five.
To voice mail, AGAIN.

GOD.
What an idiot I am.
Throwing myself into the fire
revealing my true identity to Mr. Editor.
He was close to finding out anyhow.
His research narrowed down potential subjects of who BROTHEL BABE really is to five contenders.
The real me was one of them.

WHY DID I TRY?
Why did I try take a turn on “Real Life Avenue” when I was driving down Fantasy Freeway?
Why didn’t I pull it off better?
There is no good segue from,

“Hi, I’m the whore who emailed you anonymously.
We’ve exchanged 12 entertaining emails. Now that I realize you
are way more interesting than all the men I’ve fucked in the last year put together….I’d like to reveal my true identity and get to know you.”

Yea. That was NOT a cool move I pulled via email…a couple weeks ago.
(Yes I am just telling you now. Fuck off.)

That phone line is still dead.
I’m just pissed at myself.

CONTINUE…Distractions!
CONTINUE….conversations with SUPERFAN!
Oh Superfan.
You brighten my day.

I’m watching free movies on Hulu now.
I really want to watch this movie without interruption.
But you keep going with your drunken texts.

No Superfan,
I cannot send you a photo of my boobs.
No Superfan. I will not do a live sex show for you.
NO SUPERFAN, you cannot come and see me as a client.

Somewhere in the midst of all this…
I cry.
Cry because I’m not a sexbot.

I cry because…its the first time I feel like the job is gonna ruin my life.
Prevent me from meeting somebody interesting.
And its always gonna hurt cuz when somebody cool DOES come along,
they will inevitably run….AND…..there will be people like Jim who are normally good….
but will secretly enjoy pouring salt in your fresh wounds…taunting you with everything you know you can’t have….at your weakest moments…..as if they can MAGICALLY KNOW exactly when those weak moments are.

4:49 am:
Text from Mr. Editor.
An apology.
His cel phone died.
I wonder…every good friend I ever had knew when their phone was about to die and warned me.
I say he just turned it off.

OHHHH. Simultaneously I feel loser-ish and non loser-ish.
The messier communication gets, the less likely it will continue in the future.
Bye bye Mr. Editor…I sense the retreat, and I feel like an ass.

5ish AM:
Superfan tells me how drunk he is.
How he finds me attractive but he has a girlfriend and wouldn’t do anything about it.

I really wanna watch more movies uninterrupted.
I tell superfan I am going to sleep.
Night night. I say.

YET – the texts continue! Continue!
“I was really hoping you would show me your boobs.” Says Superfan.

I’m watching the movie.

“Really, you’re already asleep??”
No response. I will not humor him any more.

I finish the movie. I pass out.

8am?
I curse Mr. Editor for being so god damn intriguing.

Head back on Pillow.

8:30 am:
Superfan. A paragraph. 3 texts back to back.
An apology.
His girlfriend is jealous of me.
ME.
Somebody who she has never even met.
He deleted all this texts and “doesn’t remember all the things he said.”

RIGHT AT THAT MOMENT
I immediately dial…..

*611.

I can probably change my number without setting foot in a store.
Thank my lucky stars. I can!

YES.
Salvation.
Head back on pillow.
Mission accomplished.

A few hours later I wake up to one of our pleasant regulars sitting in the bar.
I’ve only partied with him once but he is the kind of guy you give your phone number to cuz if you are ever stranded in the neighborhood, he would be the guy you could count on to help you out.

The regular asked me how I was.
I told him I changed my digits.

“Again?”
he said.

(He’s referring to the fact that I gave him my ho phone number when we first met. Then gave him my personal number. But I just changed my personal number.)

“Can I get this new number?”
I said,
“I might be getting out of this business. I don’t know. ”

Gotta start somewhere, right?

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4 Responses to “What would prompt a Ho to change her phone number?”

  1. Brian (super-lush) November 25, 2010 at 7:58 am #

    NOW i know the story! Superfan should head to rehab again. haha πŸ™‚ i havent read these in months and im so glad i saw this one. Seriously makes me chuckle. I really do hope youre doing awesome miss bambi.

    • brothelbabe November 25, 2010 at 9:47 am #

      Doing great…I saw the first one and thought “I wonder if he read the other!” I got asked to write for two websites now and art wise am meeting with new people, new projects. The fellow I’m working with is a real oddball…everyone else says no, but my intuition says yes.

      • Brian (super-lush) November 26, 2010 at 7:30 pm #

        You seem to attract those. In my own defense, my texts stemmed from a temporary crush from seeing you as your alter ego; showcasing your TRUE CALLING :). Im really bummed you had to get rid of your long time number because of me. I guess i feel that i dont wanna be filed in with the “annoying dudes”. I myself have had to change my number because of constant annoying calls and texts, so i feel ya. I wish you would have said “jesus, brian! Quit drunk texting me!” Alls well though. Take care, Miss Bambi. Ha! πŸ™‚

      • brothelbabe November 26, 2010 at 9:03 pm #

        Oh, I had a lot of people spam txting me anyway, and random dudes txting at 3am. Yea who knows, maybe the reason I was attracting them was to write a blog about it! I attract a lot of peeps who seem to be full of shit. For as smart as I come across, I’m way naive most of the time. There’s regular stuff people see that I just miss. Like telling people not to text. Tho trust me, you helped me thru a few really slow and boring days at work. See you on the flipside Brian.

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