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A New York Escorts Confessions
Coffee To Be Seen And Not Heard
Taste of Heaven—my hat is off to you.
So there I was last Wednesday in Columbus Avenue Bakery nursing a blackout cookie and a latte. I was knee deep in the front section of the Times. Just enjoying the sunlight streaming through the window, the sugar/caffeine rush and the quiet pace of pouring through the paper and letting all the issues wash over me and my thoughts. And then there was a screeeeeeeaaaam. Followed by another even higher-pitched shreeeeeeeeak. Two toddlers ran around me wielding cutlery and laughing at so high a register I was surprised a pack of dogs didn’t immediately surround the place and howl for all it was worth.
All of us in the room turned around to glare at whoever was in charge of these demons, but no one seemed to be within ten feet of them. Then, about a minute later, two hip Upper West Side grandmother-types trudged in, looked lazily around, and called the kids to eat their cookies. So they could have more sugar. And presumably yell even more. Great.
Now I love Columbus Avenue Bakery. I have met so many fascinating, friendly, and offbeat people there. The salads are great, the baked goods inspired. But this happens ALL THE TIME and is nearly as annoying as the fact that CAB still does not have an internet connection.
I turned back to my paper in disgust, flipped the page, then nearly knocked over my coffee. For there on the front of the National Section was an article with the title “At Center of a Clash, Rowdy Children in Coffee Shops.” Are you kidding me?! This was just too weird. I looked around in confusion then met the eyes of a guy across the room from me. He smiled, raised his eyebrow, and flicked his paper conspiratorily. “Do you think I should make a paper airplane out of this and lob it at ‘em?” he whispered. I gave him a big thumbs up.
Did anyone read the article? The jumping off point was about this cafe owner in Andersonville Chicago who put up a sign asking for all children to speak in their indoor voices while at the cafe. Apparently mothers were incensed and tried to boycott the place. It exposed a division between the cafe patrons with kids and those without—and also between the yuppies gentrifying the neighborhood (mostly those with kids) and the artists who had been living there for years before the area was even on the map. The owner described these parents as “former cheerleaders and beauty queens” who “have a very strong sense of entitlement”. Ah the class issue raises its ugly head, huh?
I was thinking about getting up right there and then, marching over to the manager and handing over the article as required reading when two young moms walked in with baby carriages. One of them was a stunner—blond boing-boing curls, fresh-faced with ivory white skin and a huge smile. If she were in a commercial she would be selling us dishwashing liquid and Hot Pockets, and dear God since it was herwe’d probably go out and buy them. The blonde politely apologized for knocking people with her carriage and quietly made her way to an empty table. As I followed her with my eyes, I noticed a harried-looking brunette cutting her pan-fried chicken breast into perfect itsy-bitsy pieces. I marveled at her precision. She had to be completely off her rocker. But no. She was feeding her tow-headed little boy who was sitting in the seat next to her. He turned around, looked at me, and said in the most proper of indoor-voices, “Hi.” Then he started to eat the chicken, even though he could barely reach the table in front of him.
Before I knew it my mouth was open. “Excuse me, miss? Would you like a high chair?”
She turned around in confusion. “They have those here? I didn’t see—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get it.” When I brought it back to her she completely gushed. “Thank you. That was so nice.”
“Well I didn’t want him to fall.”
“What do you say to the lady Peter?”
“You have silly tights.”
And I did.
Kids say the darndest things, don’t they? Especially when someone’s teaching them not to yell.
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confessionsComments
as they say in this part of the world, a drop of ink destroys the whole pot of milk :)
Posted by xman on Nov 14 02:06AMHummmmmmmmm.....Is this a second indication of maternal instincts rearing it's head in the character of our free-willing perpetually single heroine!?!?!?!?
It is good to see someone point out that only SOME of the kids that are out and about are the screaming brats. I know I needed the reminding myself.
Posted by Jeregano on Nov 14 09:33AMYour encounter with the little boy is rare...too few and far between. The air of entitlement you speak of manifests into "my child needs to experience life to the fullest regardless of how many ear drums are split and dinners ruined.......I am for segregation..."a child is to be seen, not heard!"
Posted by Rex on Nov 14 10:45AMPost a Comment

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about me
So why am I writing this blog? I have an inner exhibitionist that just needs to be let out. I've always wanted to bare myself completely in front of strangers but have always been held back by fear.
As strange as it may sound, I've never really truly bared myself in front of any of my clients. For all that they've seen, they've never seen me be me. And for all that I've seen, I simply need to share it with you!
So why should you come? To be tantalized and teased. To get release by knowing the true me.
I promise that I won't bite, and if I do bite, I'll make sure you like it!
my favorite posts
- Caveat Vendor - Part II
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- Poops!... I Did It Again!
- My First Escorting Experience
- My First Lesbian Experience
- Daddy's Little Girl (Part II)
- Selling Out (Part III)


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And in the 'small world' department, one of your readers (me), lives just south of that eatery ... I'm right along the southern border of Andersonville.
Posted by Jeff Hewitt on Nov 14 12:00AM