Like all the best stories, this one has a little bit more depth than it would seem at first glance. The pertinent thing is that this is actually my second hooker incident.
The first one was like this. It was early in the morning one early fall day and, as always, I was walking my dog down Acklen Park (don’t stalk me or I will train my dog to bite your knees right off) when a man in a car slowed way down as he rolled by. He looked over at me and I at him and then he popped his passenger side car open. I leaned over to see if he needed help or was lost or something–feeling a little braver than perhaps I should have, because I was walking a sixty pound pit bull–when he (the guy, not the dog) asked, “How much for a date?”
Seriously, I’ve thought about that morning many times and maybe I’m just not an imaginative enough lover, but I just can’t picture what kinds of sex acts would be possible in a car filled with any guy, me, and my dog. My dog is an anti-aphrodisiac. In the car, she jumps all over, she drools, she whines if the car is stopped too long, she licks strangers and tries to find some way to stand on them and beat them with her tail while also trying to put their faces in her mouth, and she has to bark ferociously at all other dogs who try to get anywhere near the car, even if that means she has to leap from the front seat to the back seat and back repeatedly to do it.
How, America, would sex with that going on work exactly?
But anyway, yesterday, I was driving down Murphreesboro Road looking for WKRN and I drove right past it. I turned around at the Waffle House, drove back, and managed to blow right past it again. This time, I turned down a little street with some kind of market at the corner, and there was a woman who looked to me, to be walking around in obvious distress.
I slowed down to see if she needed help, but then I noticed a gentleman in another car had also slowed down. She looked at me, looked at him, and back at me. He looked at me and gave me a polite smile, like “Ladies first” at which point I then realized that the woman’s distress was probably drug-related, not car problem related, and that she was, indeed, sizing up potential clients and I had driven by now, three times.