My Husband the Whore

This morning, a parent from Sebastian's school said, "You know, your husband is a whore." He felt justified in saying this because he saw Michael has over 1,500 Facebook friends, making it sound like my husband doled out fifteen hundred blowjobs to acquire those friends. (I can't imagine it's that many.) You might think I'd defend my husband's honor. I did not. The thing is, I know I married a slut... Or should I say former slut... Perhaps recovering slut is more apt.

However you parse it, slut in the former or recovering stage, I do admit that Michael is a tremendous flirt. "How can you let your husband flirt like that?" I've heard on more than one occasion. But I believe that Michael's flirting is a spectacular talent and should not be reserved for me alone. Would you stifle a child who had a natural aptitude for music? Of course not. You'd go out and buy him a trumpet. It's the same with Michael, he goes into a bar and charms the socks off everyone. But you better believe, when we go home at night, I'm the trumpet he blows.

So, back to the parent this morning. He calls my husband a whore... (BTW, does that make Facebook his pimp?) And I launch into the following story...

Remember that TV movie of the week when we were kids, called Dawn: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway? Starring Eve Plum? (Shameful nods of acknowledgement as we remember Jan Brady as a prostitute.) Well, there was a spin-off movie, starring Leigh McCloskey, called Alexander: the Other Side of Dawn. (The title alone makes your teeth ache, doesn't it?) In this movie, Alex's father kicks him out of his small town Oklahoma home. He packs his bags, hops on a bus to LA, and he dreams of a glittery life in the arts. Not surprisingly, his dreams were not waiting for him at the LA Greyhound station. After a brief fling with Dawn/Eve/Jan, he decides to become the kept man of a closeted football pro. (Tight end? Wide receiver?) Even that doesn't hold the allure Alex was after, so he becomes a gigolo.

When Michael saw this flick, his pubescent self thought this was the most glamorous thing he'd ever seen. Instead of the cautionary tale it was meant to be, he saw it as a life map. Like Alex, he packed his bag to run away to LA to become a hustler. For men! How swell.

His plan was thwarted, however. Someone saw teenage Michael headed to the train station, struggling with a suitcase and called his parents. I'm sure there was a lot of yelling, maybe skillet throwing. (As a WASP with suppressed desires and tons of emotional baggage, I appreciate the histrionics of Michael's family.) And then life resumed to Alton, Illinios normal.

This is a picture of Michael embracing his inner whore. And in the land of hooker pumps, pole dance classes and striptease seminars perhaps that's OK. Now, watch out y'all. See that look in his eyes? When hubby throws down the cigarette, he's gonna pick up that trumpet and blow.

Comments

That is one good looking man you got there! Very sexy.
I agree. I think I'll keep him, whorish tendencies and all.
Indeed you must...that parent was just jealous!
(F)redddy said…
That parent was jealous? Hell, I'm jealous. Who do I have to blow to get on that party train? 1500 friends? JEZUS. For that matter, now that I've mentioned it, why ain't I on your list? Is it cuz I still use words like "ain't" and "cuz"?
You mean you really did buy him a trumpet?

Oo-la-la, by the way.
Anonymous said…
Hutch, you're a truly Hy-Larious writer. More! And I did a play with Eve Plumb a few years back. The play was god-awful, but she was a lot of fun. Sharp sense of humor and she won't suffer fools. I'm a fan of Eve's Plumb.
Anonymous said…
Hi, Hutch. I did as you suggested and came for a gander. I love it - can I come back and play? A lot?

As for your hubby being a whore, at least he's not a scum-sucking asshole. Oh, wait, that's my ex-husband.

That man of yours is mighty fine, too.

Oh, and I'm sorry to report that I am old enough to have watched (and remember!) that Movie of the Week. *sigh* At least I'm in good company.

Jan from the Sushi Bar
Anonymous said…
Hutch: Your writing never surprises me. I love it! You described the whore to a T(rumpet). That's right Michael remember Edinburgh and all the Fringe...that parent was hating and full of jealousy. That's your trumpet who knows how to blow the right tunes....
Did I describe the whore to a T(rumpet)? Or to a (S)T(rumpet)?

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