i wanted to get a prostitute. i’ve never picked up a prostitute. i’ve taken girls out for dinner and after dinner we did stuff which is kind like paying for it and i’ve been with girls who were a lot of work the next morning so i payed for it in other ways but i’ve never actually paid for it. if prostitution truly is the world’s oldest profession, i’ve been neglecting my rite as a man to soliciate this service. tonight’s the night.
i checked into the cool boutique hotel in downtown baton rouge a couple blocks from the one bar i found googling “hipster baton rouge”. the room was nice and the desk clerk called me “mr. joseph”. i had sushi on top of the slick high-rise next door. i sat at the bar a couple chairs down from tanya. tanya is 40+, educated, and works in insurance. it’s her birthday and she was there with all her black coworkers. she kept saying, “lukatchu cute lil’whiteboi. if i wadn’t marrieeeeeeeed, ewebet dat’ass i’d be flirt’n witchah. ooowwwwah” she didn’t. she passed out from too many blue martinis and her coworkers carried her to elevator.
at this same time but in miami my friend was walking along the beach when a tall and mysterious fisherman opened his hands to present the most beautiful shell of the season. “for me?”, she asked. the stranger nodded his head with a smile. my friend took the shell and that was that.
after dinner i walked towards the hipster bar i found on google. some djs set their pa up in the corner and played a mix of eclectic favorites like hot butter. the bartender who took care of me is young, thin, beautiful, excited about her vintage mom jeans, she’d soon love my blog. she ignored the other patrons and let her co-bartender make all the drinks. we spoke of the perks of self-awareness and i told her about my journey. “i wish i could do something like that” she whispered she asked where i was staying.
as i’m going through a real empower the self-aware thing, i spent 45 minutes at the corner of the bar verbally pumping my bartender full of empowerment then said goodbye before finishing my second drink. in my head, i was a magic apparition of light who appeared on a slow night and gave her a shell of strength to do wonderful things then left without a trace or “pumping” but there’s a thousand other ways she may have and probably perceived me.
baton rouge is on the mississippi and the old town buildings were erected at the same time as st. louis’ inner city. i felt akin there, this is a cousin home. mark twain probably felt the same way except he would have written tanya differently.
the sky looked super neat and i took photos before going back to the hotel to call prostitutes. i called five. deep down i knew i wouldn’t actually sleep with one. she’d show up, we’d jump on the bed, eat pizza, and fight over little spoon while sharing bad date stories. none of the prostitutes returned my calls. i’m worse at prostitutes than sealing deals with young bartenders and tanya. the next morning my car broke down next to a sign that read, “watch for snakes. theyre watching you.”
baton rouge was alright