Today, over smoked chicken quesadillas at Cool River Cafe, I was asked an intriguing question. What was the strangest wedding you have ever attended?
Have you ever been to the wedding of a prostitute? I honestly can say that I have, it was quite the comic relief, and it ‘fesses up to be the strangest wedding I have ever attended.
I grew up in NYC. Land of the strange. Land of the strange things that make the strange look almost normal. I knew a prostitute once. She was actually quite a nice lady. Well, I guess, in hindsight, especially so to those who “knew” her, and those who were male and were willing to pay for it. But, all kidding aside, she was nice, although more than a bit misguided.
She met a man. She met a tall, dark handsome stranger. After a long arduous tempestuous relationship, that lasted all of two weeks, she agreed to marry her “banker man.” She neglected to tell him that she was, in fact, at that time, a card carrying member of the world’s oldest profession (for my computer programmer friends, I don’t me she was a COBOL programmer, ok?) She neglected to tell him she had a child. She neglected to tell him she was in treatment for methodone. She neglected to tell him a lot of things. She had the ring in her sights and that quest for the perfect mister right had blinded her so, she could hardly speak a word. “He’s seen my car, he’s seen my place, that’s all he needs to see,” was her motto of the moment. Guess it worked for her.
I can remember sitting at the wedding. Sitting with Terry. Terry raised an interesting point, “imagine what they’re conversation’s going to be like tomorrow morning,” he said to me, over his shrimp cocktail.
I replied, “honey, do you like your eggs scrambled or fried and, oh, by the way, I’m a hooker.”
It was a strange wedding indeed. It’ll go over real well with the kids. Sunny side up anyone?
But, I guess the real jokes on Terry and me. It seems, the lady with the eggs, the lady with the methodone, the lady of the evening who reformed and reeled in her “banker man” is still happily married. Sometimes, when love turns to gain, I guess it isn’t all bad. Sometimes, good things can come from bad mistakes. Sometimes, we just get lucky.
At least, it makes for interesting conversation over cocktails at Cool River anyway.
Until next time…