If I have Sex with a Hooker, do I get a TV Show?

When I first saw the tv ad for Elliott Spitzer's new show, I thought it was a little ridiculous. There is nothing I hate more than a hypocrite. And as someone who was tough on crime and then committed a couple of egregious ones, Elliot Spitzer is towards the top of my hypocrite list -- along with the Catholic Church and the majority of the Republican party.

The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. My friend Julie thought it was great -- America was a forgiving place, the land of second chances, yada, yada, yada. And that's all well and fine. However, the problem I have is that in an economy where so many deserving people are out of work -- and a lot of decent politicians have been voted out of office for making the unpopular but morally correct decision (ok, maybe not a lot -- but John Murtha is a lot more deserving than Spitzer. Yes, I know he's dead -- stick with me here), I think giving a so-called second chance to the man that spurred my friends and I to go "hooker hunting" ** is simply wrong. Not to mention that this second chance will result in a lot of easy wealth for the happy-hooker-hunter.

**(Hooker Hunting was the brainchild of my friend Judie who decided each month we would go to a different touristy hotel bar and see if we could identify the ladies-of-the-night. We never really saw any, so we added a second component to the evening which involved having the person to your left order your drinks for you. And that quickly disintegrated into a game of "screw your neighbor." ...and I guess that's why we don't do that anymore.)

The other part that bothers me is this guy is ugly. Yes, that is superficial, but he is. And if I am going to watch tv it needs to be either a) stimulating; b) pretty; or c) touching. So let's review:

a) Stimulating: This man is a harsh, screaming blowhard. Just because you say it louder, doesn't make it more interesting.

b)Pretty: um...no. He looks like Spock's uglier brother with the receding hairline. I'm frankly surprised that he was even able to pay for sex.

c)Touching: please refer to (a)

If we are going to reward some deserving American with a second chance, let's take a check down to the unemployment line -- bring in the Extreme Home Makeover team, give the kid a job with Donald Trump or a guest spot on The View. That's worthwhile. And that's who we should reward -- not the hypocrites that scream louder than the rest of us.

Jesus

So your team beat Notre Dame by 3 points in a down-to-the-wire nailbiter? And then your coach had a heart attack?

Who's side do you think Jesus is on?

Is it possible that I'm not as hot as I think I am?

Is it possible that I'm not as hot as I think I am?

Granted it's been a while since I was on the dating scene, and I am in a new city so -- sure, different rules apply. Maybe I'm not used to people being nice. And friendly. I am from the East Coast, and my response when the grocery cashier asked me if I had a good weekend was, "Why do you want to know?" Which I realize in hindsight is not appropriate ...

So when new-boy from work asked me to lunch on Friday -- and had been emailing me and told me to "call him anytime" -- I assumed this dating thing would be easy. Not even officially divorced yet, new city, and snap fingers - new boyfriend... Hurray!! ( ...so much better than the first guy post-marriage who now has a boyfriend. No, not a typo. ...but we do have a lot in common. We both have sex with men.)

And lunch was great -- lots of childhood chatting, similar interests, similar upbringing, our mothers both even live in Florida! How easy will holidays be? So when the inevitable "what are you doing this weekend" topic roles around, and I'm invited to check out a new wine bar with his friends (since he "knows what it's like to be new in town" -- fantastic line, guy) I'm delighted, but not surprised. I know when a guy likes me. ...usually. I did. ...I thought I used to.

So when new-boyfriend doesn't contact me by 6PM on Saturday I leave a message. And when I hear nothing by 7PM, I become annoyed and start a movie. At 8PM I receive a call from new-boyfriend, apologetic of course. He confused my work cell and personal cell and called the wrong number but we're meeting up at 9:30PM. He's at dinner with a girl friend (pardon?!) who just broke up with her boyfriend (he's amazing), ...well, the boyfriend is actually his friend ...but he needs to be a friend to her, too (he's the love of my life).

At 9:30 I walk in to a wave and a hug and a glass of wine. And introductions to said friends, yada, yada, yada... and then I'm not sure what the fuck happened. Because nothing happened. We had a "We're the same age right?" conversation. I'm four years older, which I did not think was a big deal. Especially when prior to that revelation, he stated, "You're younger than me, right?" And please note the title of this entry, that I am hot... I thought I was hot anyways... The gay guy thought I was hot.

So boyfriend has a whole new vibe for the evening. He's working the room, talking to everyone and after a particularly boring conversation, I seek him out. And he's not so engaging. Polite yes, but no bringing me in, no questions. No touchy-feely flirting. In fact we proceed to another bar and he does not even sit by me. And honestly, I'm not willing to work this hard. You're either into me or you're not. And when you start to tell me the same stories from lunch the day before without asking me questions about myself you're more than "not" -- you're rapidly approaching douche.

At the third location, we move from "douchey", to "goddamn-I-must-have-soooo-misread-this" as he starts flirting with a not-as-pretty, but definitely thinner and larger-breasted individual. So I say a polite good-night to the gang (and please note - I am more sober than I've been since junior high due to the inexcusable lack of public transit on the west coast. Get your shit together, California! ) and head back to my car through a colorful cast of tourists, homeless and hoochies.

My self-esteem is somewhat crushed now.  I mean, what the fuck was that?!  I speak with an also divorced, east coast transplant and learn the following: (a) For men in Southern California, 33 is the new 24.  Commitment?  Maturity?  Relationships?  …never heard of it; and (b) In a place where perfect is possible -- and apparently for purchase -- it could be that I'm not as hot as I thought.

...but my East Coast friends disagree. Nevertheless, I have a Botox consultation tomorrow.