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Sunday, 24 July 2011

Life in the ‘Burbs…. The real version of 'Pretty Woman'.

So the other day I told you Pretty Woman is a MOVIE.  That’s true… and it’s a movie NOT based on real events, and that’s still a fact….
Now I have to tell you a story that IS in fact true.  Really.  You’re not going to believe it when you hear me out, but I cross my heart…TRUST me, this is no bullshit.
When I was married, my husband and I had a home built for us.  It was in a nice, move-up neighborhood, and for the most part we had nice neighbors…well except for the weirdos living next door… the wife was a complete psycho, and because it takes one to know one, she found a perfect match in her hideous much older husband, but that story I’ll save for another time….
THIS story is about the fairy tale that was the life of my neighbor two doors down.  Her name was one of those innocuous names from the late 50’s baby boom… let’s call her Debbie, because she sort of looked like Debbie Reynolds.  Petite and a little round, with strawberry blonde hair.  Debbie was the stay at home mom of an only child she doted on.  This kid looked very like her mother, and was a bright little thing.  She was the apple of her parents’ eye.  Debbie spent her time teaching little Debbie how to read and write before she was three years old.  Little Debbie was kept so shiny clean she almost squeaked when she walked, and she could carry on a very intelligent conversation by the time she was 7.  With adults.  She had no real clue how to relate to kids.
Big Debbie was married to a guy we’ll call Gord… not their real names… Gord was tall and lean, with a full head of dark hair and a handlebar moustache.  He owned a mechanics shop, and made a good living.  These were the people who would greet every neighbor on our end of the street as they moved in, and asked if there was anything they could help with.  They were who you called if you needed a hand, or if you were throwing a potluck because they were always there to help out, and Debbie loved to cook and entertain….. Picture the Cleavers….
Now picture the Cleavers covered in tattoos and biker gear…. THERE.  Now you have them… Debbie and Gord were a little bit of an odd fit for our little corner of suburbia.  I think it was Debbie's tattooed on earrings, wedding ring and bracelet that started that…. The diamond imbedded in her incisor added to the mystique… Gord was missing a couple of teeth, but had that fixed while he was living in the house.  My ex and I became fast friends with them over time, because they were kind and generous…..
Gord and Debbie built their house with the same builder I did… and when we started having problems with some leins put against our house by the trades who’d worked on it, I passed that information on to them… The builder story is another that would take too long to go into today, but suffice it to say, they were unscrupulous, and ripped off several of their customers, including Debbie and Gord….
When I found out there were MANY leins against my house, and Gord and Debbie’s as well, I went to the police to state my case.  A couple of months later, they came to question me about the situation.  The policeman who interviewed me was a good looking man in his 50’s, with thick salt and pepper hair and a trimmed goatee.  He had nice arms and wore a heavy silver chain bracelet, and a beautiful ring on his wedding finger.
Shortly after the interview, he went over to Debbie’s place to hear what had happened in their circumstance.  They chatted for about an hour.  The cop had parked at my place, so when they were finished talking, he came back, chatted with me for a few minutes and left.  The nanosecond he walked out the door, the phone started to ring in the house.  When I answered, it was Debbie.  She wanted to see if what I'd told the cop and what she'd told him was the same.  So, I invited her to have a coffee with me.

When we started to compare notes on the situation, she asked what I'd thought of the cop... so I told her...   I thought he was an attractive guy. He was well spoken, dressed in crisp pressed clothes, and he smelled GREAT. Let’s just say being interviewed by him didn’t seem to be a huge hardship for me.  Our conversation went something like this....

Debbie:  "So, he's really good looking, isn't he?"

Me: "Ya - I thought so, and his aftershave is really nice."

Debbie:  "Well he was a client when I was on the street.  He's cute but weird."

Me (Inside voice) "Wait.  What? Did she just say she worked on the street?... really?  No, I must've heard that wrong."

Me: "Really?............"

Debbie: "Ya - he used to just pay me to jerk off and call me names." 

Me (Inside voice)  "Wow.  She really DID mean 'on the street'... close your mouth, and try to nod.... jeez-US...stop staring at her...."

Me:  "Really.  Wow, that is a little weird...."

Me (Inside voice) "Well that just killed my picture of him... Wait.  He's MARRIED?   Close your stupid mouth, and quit with the deer in the headlights eyes... that's better, now smile and nod....."

I can't even tell you how the conversation ended, because I was really shocked... I do know she went in to telling me how when she was a prostitute she'd had the highest SDT count in the city, as though that was something you share with everyone... and she told me how her husband had been a client, but they fell in love, and he 'rescued' her from the street..... They were a very strong couple, and while I haven't seen them for years, I would bet they're still going strong.  She worshipped the ground he walked on in his big black biker boots, and he looked at her as though she was a  princess...

THAT folks is how the REAL version of how a 'working girl' gets rescued.  It ain't Richard Gere and Julia Roberts.... but I guess sometimes twisted fairy tales do come true....


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