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Date Night at the CatHouse-Our Attempt at Spicing Up Our Marriage

April 2, 2010

When I say, “CatHouse,” I am not referring to the home for wayward cats.  I’m not even talking about a crazy cat lady that has litter upon litter all eating out of Nine Lives cans all over the house. 

Sadly, I am talking about a “House of Ill Repute.” 

Why I’m sharing this with you, internet, is beyond me.  But, I’m an over sharer.  And you’re here, so here goes.

I’m coming up on my fifteenth anniversary.  We have three kids.  Sometimes, things need a little spicing up, you know?

Several years ago, we were looking for a little something-something to spice things up, so while we were out on a date, we decided to stop and check out a “lingerie store.”  

This wasn’t one of the really upscale ones.

This wasn’t a Victoria’s Secret. 

It wasn’t even a Frederick’s of Hollywood(is that still around?).

It was “Lady Ts,” or maybe “Lady Js.”  It was written in a really weird font, and I can’t be sure which it was.

It was in a seedy strip mall.  But,  like I said, we were looking for some “spice.”  So, we whipped into this place.  

So, we wedged into the parking lot, the only car in front of the establishment.  On one side was a Check Cashing place,  they seemed to have all the business.  And to the other was some sort of butcher.  Seems like there was a Western Union sign in one of the windows, and an ice cream truck  type vehicle selling tacos in the same parking lot. 

The front door wore a dark coat of window tint.  And the windows were adorned with purple satin.  Scantily clad mannequins posed in the store front window. 

We giggled a little and wandered in at about 3:30 in the afternoon.  (Dates start early when you have kids and don’t want to keep the grands up all night, especially when you live an hour from anything) 

As our eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, we looked around a bit.  Not much to see.  The store was about the size of a decent sized walk in closet.  There was a rack and on it, about half a dozen garments.  No joke, six.   The seamstress who’d made them was undoubtedly pretty “green.”  Because she was very conservative with the amount of fabric she used.  Nothing wasted.

A very petite(I’m 5’3″ and I thought she was petite) girl was in charge.  She was dressed in a really short skirt. “Green” designers must have really been smiled upon in this establishment.  They were saving fabric at every turn.  She had on a light green tank top with a bright pink bra hanging right out.  She had a bracelet that wrapped around her upper arm.  It was a snake.   Why are these the details that my brain chooses to hold onto, while promptly forgetting useful things like passwords and PIN numbers?

 Someone came to the door and she motioned towards us and tapped her watch.  He waved and tapped his time piece and went back to the checking cashing place.  I still wonder what that was about.

In the mean time, my husband and I are trying to figure the place out.  Our “host’ if you will, walked back to the dressing room.  She left the door open and we could see it was huge.  HUGE.  It had mirrors on the wall.  Always good when you want to be sure you get just the right fit. 

And a sleeper sofa.  I guess fatigue really could set in, what, with trying on all six of these environmentally friendly garments.  

We then noticed a poster, a hand drawn poster written on white poster board with a black Sharpie.  It listed fees for membership.

 There were also fees for the “modeling.”  At this point, my husband says, discreetly, out of the corner of his mouth, “I’m not paying $50 to watch you try on underwear.”  

Poor country bumpkins that we are, we still hadn’t really caught the jist of this place. 

 I just know Wayne is not in favor of paying to watch me try on underwear in this seedy strip mall between the Taco truck and the Western Union.  I think it was a good call.  He’s practical like that.

Still puzzled by the “membership” info, and feeling a little awkward, I ask the sales lady, “So, now, how does this work?”  Thinking back, I’m not sure if I thought it was a panty of the month club membership they were peddling, or what.  Anyway….

She put her hand on my shoulder, locked eyes with me, licked her lips and purred, “How do you want it to work?”  (There was actual purring, seriously, it was a CATHOUSE!)

LIGHTBULB MOMENT! 

You’re probably thinking, “Took you long enough.”  Yeah, as I’m retelling this story, I’m thinking the same thing. 

The husband has still had no lightbulb moment.  I’m much brighter.  It only took me 30 minutes to realize we were visiting a “sporting house”(this term courtesy of a google search in an attempt to avoid using the word whore house, just too coarse, you know?)  that was pretending to be a lingerie shop. 

“I think we might, we might, maybe, we might be in the, well, in the , ugh, wrong place. (Grimacing)   Thank you though!  ‘Kay, thanks, we’re going to run.  Um,  bye bye!”  As I grab the door handle and hoped I’d grabbed the least germy part,  (where, oh where is my hand sanitizer?) we made a break for the car.   I felt so dirty. 

As we are walking to the car, my husband, dim as he can be, is still appalled that they thought he’d actually pay to watch me try on underwear.  The nerve.  Who would pay for such a thing?  On and on he grumbled.  Why, we could go home and do that for free.

As we unlocked the car, I dissolved into giggles.  The kind that you aren’t able to talk through.  The kind that make you wipe your tears.  The kind that start again as soon as you think they are gone.  Finally,   I regained my composure enough to explain to Wayne where we had been.  

“oh, Oh, OH.”  Where is that hand sanitizer?  Ick! 

We went out for dinner and went straight to the restrooms.  We needed to wash our hands. 

So, after scrubbing as if we had an upcoming appendectomy to perform, we sat down to dinner and relived the whole thing.  Laughing until we were both crying, again. 

Turns out, it was just the spice we needed.  The best dates involve belly laughs.

One more thing, the following week, this particular “business” made the news.  A couple of employees and a man with a jacket over his head were arrested.  The news footage made the 7:00 news.  Thank the Lord above that they didn’t do a “bust” on the day of our visit.  Oh, the horror!

The husband and I agree, the next time we go to a cat house, it’ll be to adopt a furry creature to catch the mice that live here in the country.

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17 Comments leave one →
  1. April 3, 2010 12:18 am

    This post cracked me up! And, you’re right, the best dates involve belly laughs!

    • April 3, 2010 7:24 pm

      We still get tickled when we realize how long it took us to catch on. You know, I don’t get out much. Prostitution just doesn’t come into play in our plain little lives.

  2. April 3, 2010 8:18 am

    This is hysterical. Often, my husband and I find ourselves in strange situations and he always says, if I begin to complain, “But, just think about what a great story this will be.” And it always is.

  3. April 3, 2010 9:32 am

    Hahahahaha! This was the first blog I read today and it was a good one! This story is awesome. You captured it so well I felt like I was there. I don’t think I would have caught on that quickly either. I have to agree that the best dates include some really good laughs. I’m glad you weren’t there when they got busted either! So So funny!

    • April 3, 2010 7:26 pm

      Glad to get your morning going with a little prostitution close call. lol I am so thankful we weren’t there for the bust. Who do you call to spring you when you’ve gone to jail for that? Ack! I bet there wouldn’t be a hand sanitizer in sight, either!

  4. April 3, 2010 12:50 pm

    That is the greatest story ever! And I also did not exactly get a light bulb moment until right before you pointed it out. I probably would have wandered around aimlessly for a while, poking the lingerie. That is just too good.

    • April 3, 2010 7:27 pm

      We are so stupid/polite, that we would have felt like we had to purchase something. It was a hoot when we realized that it wasn’t really for sale.

  5. April 3, 2010 9:00 pm

    Hi LulaLola,

    Thanks so much for all the plant advice; you seem like quite the pro gardener. I’m not sure how or why I haven’t spent time on your blog. I just read through a handful of posts and absolutely love it! And this particular post is completely hysterical!

    Have a great rest to your weekend.

    Liz

    • April 4, 2010 10:32 am

      I do enjoy the flowers. My husband is a farmer, but also owns a landscaping business, so I hear “plant talk” a good bit of the time.

      Glad you stopped by, hope I’ll see you around these parts again! Hope you have a great weekend!

  6. April 5, 2010 12:07 pm

    Oh my, that is the funniest story I have read in a long time. I had to go back and reread parts. What a night!

  7. April 5, 2010 4:13 pm

    It was the craziest thing ever! It’s funny how many details I can remember about it. I can tell you what color tank top the “model” was wearing. But, will forget three out of five things when I go to the grocery store.

  8. June 21, 2010 12:32 pm

    HAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAA Oh my lord! I was so like your husband. I was like “umm… uhhh… huh?” until you got to “whore house” it finally clicked in. I WAS SOOO NOT GETTING IT! HAAAAAAHA

    Oh my goodness that is awesome! LOVE IT!

  9. August 3, 2010 11:08 am

    Oh my – that is just so hysterical! I think it would have taken me a while to have a light bulb moment as well. LOL Glad it didn’t take you too long though 🙂

  10. August 3, 2010 12:02 pm

    This post just made me laugh out loud. I think every marriage needs a night like this be their little joke. Thanks for sharing yours.

Trackbacks

  1. A Charmed Life « Lula Lola
  2. Again with the Awesomesauce!! WOOT!!! | Casa di Cass

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