Last night I was leaving this Hotel party/get-together ..it's like 4 in the morning. I get in the elevator with this polite -sweater-tied-around-the-neck-swag old man. I'm not entirely sober, but I can contain myself enough to hold posture and word my sentences like i'm intelligent. Avoiding eye contact, we're talking fancy about something I can't remember. But there was a pause, then he says, "I just have to ask, are you just getting in?" and my response after a slight(devious) laugh is "No, actually just leaving." and he doesn't say anything else. Mind you I have on my boots, pantyhose, tiny black jean shorts, and a vintage crew neck, and my fedora--looking like a Los Angeles/Vegas runaway. I'm almost certain he thinks I'm a whore.
Can't win 'em all.
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