Sex Worker Gets Final Rose

Sex Worker Gets Final Rose

“Caveat emptor.”

-Ancient Roman principle

(Crude, possibly offensive humor) The unexpected confluence of seemingly unrelated factors can lead to interesting results.

Factor #1- Herb, soft, if not pudgy, forty-two-year-old, mild-mannered, self-checkout lane observer at Walmart; average in appearance with a nondescript personality; lonely.

Factor #2- Once popular TV show dropping in the ratings.

Factor #3- Creative TV writer brought in to save TV show dropping in ratings.

Factor #4- TV producer desperate to salvage TV show dropping in ratings and open to new, even if lacking in merit, ideas.

Factor #5- A bevy of beauties willing to humiliate themselves for moments of fame.

Factor #6- Aging sex worker who has lost her luster and now faces financial ruin due to loss of customer demand.

Factor #7- Clientele at Bert’s Bar, many of whom were lacking in moral fiber and burdened with hyperactive sexual appetites; friends of Herb- Ernie, Bill, and Bob.

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“We’re dying here, Frank. We’ve run out of variations on the original Bachelor idea. We did Bachelorette, Old Man Bachelor, Granny Bachelor, Gay Bachelor, Homeless Bachelor, Plumber Bachelor, Illegal Immigrant Bachelor, and Bachelor With Six Months to Live. We’re losing our audience. Let’s hope this guy has some good ideas.”

“They say Bernado is the best.”

The execs at ABC had been fretting about the ratings slide for its critical Monday 8 PM time slot entry, The Bachelor, for more than a year. They opened their pocketbooks to bring in the great Bernardo, the entertainment genius credited with creating more smash hits than Norma Lear and Aaron Spelling combined.

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Herb was a loner, not by choice but by virtue of the sum total of his parts. In the world of romance, Herb was undesirable by any measure.

“Herb, why don’t you try one of those internet dating sites. There must be women out there as desperate as you are.”

“I tried that, Ernie. Nothing.”

“And still no luck at your line dancing class?”

“No luck so far, Bill.”

“The widowers’ social circle?”

“Nothing there either, Bob.”

“Hang in there, buddy. Something will come your way.”

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“Kitty, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to give your room to one of the younger girls. Nothing personal, but we need the cash flow.”

“I’ve still got it, Betty. I’ve just been in a bit of a slump. I think I just need a new wardrobe.”

“Kitty, your clothes aren’t the problem. The problem is when you take your clothes off. But you can keep working here. We'll clean out the storage room in the basement, and you can use that. We can fix it up real nice for you.”

“Thanks, Betty.”

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“So, here’s the deal, guys. You keep looking for the special group, a unique class of individuals. You’ve pretty well run out of categories, so here’s my idea. No special anything. We do a Joe Average Bachelor. We find the most average guy in America… no distinguishing characteristics… and have him come here looking for love.”

The execs were leaping out of their chairs.

“That’s brilliant, Bernado! Let’s do it!”

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“Hey, Herb, did you see the thing on TV about The Bachelor show?”

“No, I didn’t, Bill.”

“Well, they’re looking for a real average guy to be the Bachelor, you know, kind of like a Mr. Nobody. You can apply online. Who’s more average or more of a nobody than you? I think you’d have a chance. Tell him, Ernie.”

“Yeah, Herb, you’d be the perfect Mr. Nobody. Give it a shot.”

“Thanks. I think I will.”

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“Kitty, did you see the thing on TV about The Bachelor show?”

“No, I didn’t. What about it, Bunny?”

“Well, they’re looking for a bunch of average women to be on the show… for some average guy to pick out his average wife… so they can have an average life together, you know, instead of all the glamorous babes they always have on. You should apply, Kitty, I mean, let’s face it. No offense, but your glamorous days left the station a long time ago.”

“Thanks, Bunny, I’ll check it out.”

“And, Kitty, just one thing.”

“What’s that, Bunny?”

“Maybe lose the name. Kitty Night sounds too flashy. How about Mary Smith?”

“Good idea, Bunny.”

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“Ernie! Bob! Bill! You won’t believe it! I got picked for the show! I leave for LA in the morning.”

“That’s awesome, Herb. You’ll wow ‘em with your blah personality.”

“Thanks, Ernie.”

“Bring lots of clean underwear. Some of those story lines get pretty racy… heh, heh, heh.”

Herb smiled broadly.

“Thanks, Bob. That’s a good idea.”

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“Bunny! I got picked for the show! Thanks for telling me about it. I’m going to be on TV!”

“That’s great, Kitty.”

“I’m so nervous. I’m worried about what to wear… maybe my 6” heels, skin-tight latex pink pants, and my see-through top… you know, to get the guy’s attention?”

“Uh… I don’t think so. Maybe go with something a little more conservative.”

“I don’t have anything conservative.”

“I’ll help you out. I’ve got some of my dead mother’s stuff you can borrow. Oh, I know. I’ve got the lovely floral print dress with the white lace collar that she died in when her car went over the cliff. A little spot remover and some stitching here and there, and it will look like new. You’d look great in it.”

“Thanks, Bunny.”

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Herb was excited as he waited to be introduced to millions of viewers across the land. He had searched high and low, and sideways, to find love. This would be his last, desperate chance.

“And here he is, folks, this year’s Bachelor, Herb Farkowski!”

Herb shuffled out onto the circular driveway in front of the towering white columns at the entrance of a brightly lit palatial estate.

“Welcome, Herb!”

“Uh… thanks, Chris.”

“Herb… Chris left the show five years ago. I’m Jesse Palmer.”

“Oops, sorry.”

“Herb was chosen because we feel he represents the average American man, sort of a Joe Lunchpail guy who’s never done anything special in his life. Let’s find out a little about Herb. Can I ask you a few questions, Herb?”

“I guess.”

“Where do you work, Herb?”

“Walmart.”

“Walmart! That’s Americana for you! And what do you do there, Herb?”

“I observe the self-checkout lanes.”

“A checkout lane observer! Did you hear that, folks? He’s not a big executive, he’s a checkout lane observer! It doesn’t get any better than that, does it?”

“I guess not.”

“And where do you live, Herb?”

“In an upper flat with my mom.”

“With his mom! Can you believe it? How about hobbies or other interests? What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“I really don’t do anything. Well, I do help my mom with her coupon clipping.”

“Coupon clipping! America, Herb’s life couldn’t be more, shall we say, average and uneventful. He is our perfect Joe Average Bachelor!”

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“Holy crap! Herb is on TV! Beers are on the house!”

“Thank you, Bert!”

“He looks nervous, Ernie.”

“I’d be nervous too, Bob. I can’t wait to see the babes he can pick from.”

“Yeah, that lucky dog. They always have some real hotties on there.”

“That’s for sure, Bill, and they’ll do just about anything to win…heh, heh, heh.”

“You got that right, Bob.”

“And here they come, Bill. He’s introducing them now.”

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“Let’s introduce the twenty lovely ladies who will be vying for Herb’s heart and his hand in marriage.”

One by one, the show’s host introduced the contestants, mostly average appearing women ranging in age from their late twenties to the half-century mark. They covered the physically desirable spectrum from hot to downright frumpy. The crowd at Bert’s Bar was not hesitant to voice their opinions of each of them.

“God, she must use a paint roller to put on her make-up.”

“God, someone give her a sandwich. She looks like Twiggy.”

“Jesus Christ, check her out. That’s our winner! Herb’s always been a boob man.”

“No, Bob, you’re the boob man. You just think everyone should be a boob man.”

Boisterous reactions at Bert’s, hoots and hollers, boos and cheers, crude comments… until the introduction of the last contestant, Mary Smith.

Bob and Bill looked at each other in stunned silence.

“Uh, Bob, is that who I think it is?”

“It sure looks like her, Bill.”

“Yeah, Mary Smith, my butt. That’s Kitty Night from Big Betty's."

Bob motioned to Bill that they should keep their familiarity with Kitty Night a secret. They were both married men and felt Ernie would disapprove of their visits to Big Betty's brothel. Ernie lowered his head.

“You guys don’t have to whisper. I know who she is.”

“Ernie, you’ve been to Betty's? You’re an usher at church!”

“I’m a good man, Bill, but I’m weak.”

“Oh my God, wait until Herb hears this.”

The three men quietly sipped their beer as their eyes sought out answers from each other.

“If we tell him, he’ll know what we’ve been up to.”

“You’re right. There’s no need to say anything now. I mean, there’s only a ten percent chance he’d pick her.”

“Five percent, Bob.”

“Yeah, Ernie, five percent.”

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“Bert, get my famous friend here a beer.”

“It’s on me, Bill. It’s not every day we get a famous TV star in here.”

Ernie, Bob, and Bill welcomed Herb to their regular table at Bert’s Bar, eager to share their opinions on the women on the show.

“I liked that Susie from Wisconsin. Beautiful eyes.”

“The blonde from Arkansas was gorgeous.”

“The redhead sounded like Minnie Mouse.”

Bob, of course, focused on what appeared to be his primary interest in life.

“Herb, you gotta go with the babe from Texas. Did you see those honkers? I’d pick her just to see those babies someday.”

“Is that all you think about, Bob?”

“Pretty much, Ernie.”

Bert, the owner of the establishment and therefore the one more likely to harbor meaningful thoughts borne of sobriety, finally asked the pertinent question.

“Who did you like, Herb?”

“I liked them all. I can’t believe they all want to be with me.”

“Give them time. They don’t know you yet, Herb.”

“That’s not nice, Bill. But you must have a few favorites in mind, Herb.”

“Yeah, I do… the tall one with the long brown hair from Wisconsin, the chic from Tennessee, the real estate agent, and the one from the town just down the road with that simple name… Mary Smith.”

Three sets of eyes shouted out, “Oh my God!” Bert was not in the loop.

“Yeah, she seemed very nice… and attractive in her own way.”

“I liked her smile right away, Bert. She had that ‘girl next door’ sort of look, very simple and sweet. On first impression, I’d say she was my favorite.”

The furtive glances between Bob, Bill, and Ernie were bouncing around like ping pong balls, but no one spoke a word. Each was focused on that 5% chance she’d be picked. The odds were with them… at least up to this point.

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The show took Herb to places he never dreamed possible- Puerto Vallarta, the Bahamas, and the top floor of the Bellagio. He swam with the dolphins and rode the bobsled down the run at Park City. And every week, he handed out roses to all… but one.

“Susie, will you accept this rose?”

“This is amazing! Of course I will, Herb.”

“Margo, will you accept this rose?”

“This is amazing! Of course I will, Herb.”

And much to the consternation of Ernie, Bob, and Bill…

“Mary, will you accept this rose?”

Mary smiled, the smile that first caught Herb’s eye.

“Of course I will, Herb.”

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“Herb, Susie from Wisconsin has to be the one. She is cute, smart, and has a good job. She’d be perfect for you.”

“Or the babe from Utah. Those Mormons are good people, Herb.”

“Yeah, I like both of them, but there’s something special about another woman… that Mary Smith. She's smart , interesting, and she has a great sense of humor. I never laughed so much. I just feel comfortable with her. Our date night was the best. And I think she likes me. I know some of the other ones are better looking, but…”

“And have bigger boobs.”

“Yes, Bob, and have bigger boobs, but I just like her.”

His friends were scrambling.

“I don’t know, Herb, she doesn’t seem too bright.”

“That smile is fake.”

“And her nose… it just looks… well, like it doesn’t really fit her face.”

Worried looks and more beer ruled the night for the three conflicted friends.

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“This is freaking unbelievable. He’s down to two girls. Someone has to tell him.”

“You’re right, Ernie. Maybe we could draw straws.”

Bill drew the short straw and strategized for three days on how to tell Herb that the wholesome Mary Smith was actually the sex worker Kitty Knight… which would necessitate divulging the source of the information. He thought he could always tell Herb that Bob told him about her, but in the end, he caved and came up with a feeble “I don’t think she’s your type.”

“I’m sorry, guys. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. And we still have a 50/50 chance.”

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Bert’s was packed on the final night. Two women, Mary Smith and Susie from Wisconsin, and just one rose. Ernie, Bill, and Bob could only pray and nervously down one beer after another.

“Herb, your journey is about to end. I leave you with this rose and two incredible women.”

Mary and Susie stood in front of a tumbling waterfall as Herb approached, holding the bright red rose. He took a knee.

“Mary Smith, will you accept this rose… and will you marry me?”

Audible groans from the three drunks at the bar.

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“You should have told him the first night, Ernie.”

“Me?! You could have told him, Bob.”

“There’s no use arguing, guys. What do we do now?”

“I say we do nothing. It’s too late.”

“We can’t let our friend marry one of the girls from Big Betty's.”

“Yeah, and it’s going to be a little uncomfortable socializing with the new couple because we’ve all, you know… with Kitty.”

“Oh my God… the wedding. Our wives will be there, and Kitty will sure as hell recognize us.”

“I can’t wait to see who the bridesmaids will be… heh, heh, heh.”

“Oh no, I just thought of the biggest problem.”

“What’s that, Ernie?”

“Herb seems happy.”

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Herb and Kitty Mary Smith, now away from the artificial, structured environment of The Bachelor, were doing the things normal couples do- dinners, movies, walks in the park, and just being together doing nothing at all. Predictably, Ernie, Bill, and Bob turned down invites to bring their wives along with them to meet his bride-to-be.

The breaking point for Ernie came with the “Save the Date” card he received from Herb’s mom.

“Oh my God. They set a date. We can’t wait any longer. It will be hard to tell him, so I think we should do it together. I’ll get Herb to meet us at Bert’s tomorrow night, say around seven o’clock.”

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Ernie, Bill, and Bob arrived at Bert’s at six. They felt they would need a few courage-booster beers before they met with Herb at seven. Ernie took the lead.

“Herb… there’s something we need to talk to you about… something we need to tell you… something we should have told you a long time ago.”

Herb’s eyes darted from Ernie to Bill to Bob.

“It’s about Mary. We felt we had to tell you before you married her. Herb, she’s not who you think she is. Mary is really… uh… well, she’s really…”

Herb cut him off.

“I’ll make it easy for you guys… Kitty Night from Big Betty's."

Shocked, stunned, dumbstruck. Bill was the first to regain the gift of speech.

“You know?”

“Yes, I know.”

“When… and how did you know?”

“She told me on our very first Bachelor date.”

Ernie, Bill, and Bob struggled to comprehend the moment.

“And you still chose her? Out of all those women?”

“She’s a special lady, Bob, open, honest, sincere, funny, and I can tell she cares about me.”

“But, Herb, she was a… one of the girls at Harold’s. You can’t be serious.”

“Yes, she worked at Harold’s, and apparently, you guys were all customers there. Can you tell me the difference?”

A moment of self-reflection for Ernie, Bill, and Bob.

“And she was working, earning a living. You guys were there peeing away money you should have been spending on your wives and children.”

Self-reflection was drifting off into that most uncomfortable world of shame.

“Our time together… we talked and talked and talked. I’ve never met anyone like her. I can’t explain it, but when I was with her, I just felt… good. The bottom line, guys, is… I love her...”

And then a sideways glance at his three friends.

“… and perhaps more than you guys love your wives.”

Ooo… the depths of shame just got deeper. Moments of silence followed as Ernie, Bill and Bob now only looked at their beer.

Ernie smiled. He got it.

“Lombardo’s is open ‘til nine. Let’s go get measured up for our tuxedos.”