Reality Me

Dear Knoxville Pros

Written by

Doug McCaughan

in

, , ,

Somewhere on Reality Me or Domestic Psychology is the story of my indiscretions. Yes, I picked up a prostitute once and it became public. Well, I cannot pick you up anymore*. Unlike Dick Cheney’s wife, and Spitzer’s wife, my wife will not stand behind me.

What’s the difference between a computer consultant and a prostitute?

Slate asks why is prostitution illegal?

*I can’t find the post relating the story, so for those that missed it, I was working late downtown once. It was about midnight when I pulled up to a traffic light at Summit Avenue and Gay Street (thank you Knoxville for allowing me to use the words prostitute and gay in the same post) in the Jeep with the top down. A lady walks up and asks for a ride. Being a nice guy, I let her in. Half a block later it has become blatantly evident that I was being very naive and I was politely telling her to get out. I suppose, for the sake of knowledge, I should have at least asked, "how much?"

Comments

2 responses to “Dear Knoxville Pros”

  1. Cathy Avatar
    Cathy

    No. I will not stand behind you. You will be doing your press conference sitting atop a doghouse in the backyard. The story is here: http://domesticpsychology.com/blog/2005/01/14/110576091946836288/

  2. Missybw Avatar
    Missybw

    This must be a naive husband thing… my late husband did this same thing down in Orlando at the Burger King on the Orange Blossom Trail. He said he drove two blocks and then she said “so, you want to party?” He told her he had to go to work… then he caught onto the type of party she was suggesting. He quickly stopped and put her out of the car. I was so upset becz. some of the working girls down there have been known to jack cars and assist with armed robberies. Here he was in a Lexus, wearing expensive clothes and a nice watch, with a Lafolette accent and no clue that she was hookin’. Very scary from the other side. And I agree with Cathy, in the backyard, in a tent, as you beg for a blanket… that’s what the Bob would get anyway.

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