Pretty Woman I Ain't

So I'm in the Big City, and it's Saturday afternoon. Hans wants to go to the pool to do some laps and I'm more than willing to accompany him because this means I get to wait for him at the library.
Libraries are where I find peace. Books are my best friends. Books will never let you down, as unfortunately some people will.
So I was happy.
I'd no sooner found a book, a comfortable chair, and had just propped my feet up when an announcement was made.
The library was closing.
Uh oh.
Because guess what?
I had left my cell phone back at the apartment as you're not allowed to use them in a library and anyway Hans had his, so why would I need mine?
Well, perhaps it would have been nice to have been able to let Hans know where I would be in the event of something unexpected like the closing of the library.
"So what?" You might ask. You're in the Big City. Go somewhere and get a beer or a cup of coffee and then head back to the library at the allotted time and meet him.
All well and good except I had no idea what time he'd dropped me off. 5 minutes or 5 hours in a library seem like the same amount of time to me.
I know it takes Hans about 45 minutes to get in and out of the pool. Should I take the chance of ducking into a diner or a bar and still hook up with him at the library?
No!
Because I hate to admit it but in the shake of a lambs tail I can lose Hans anywhere, even in WalMart. If I take my eyes off of him for one second he's gone (I've got to get that choke chain!). And in 20 something degree weather, I'm not about to participate in an insane game of circling the city and missing each other by seconds all night long.
I walked a block away and dodged into a Barnes & Noble but only stayed a few minutes to warm up, and then headed straight back to the library.
I was lucky. There was a small alcove that afforded me a small amount of protection from the wind but I was still cold.
Moving is the only way to stay warm so I walked up the street and down the street.
Up the street and down the street.

I was, in short, a street walker.

I would then again find shelter in my little alcove.
My eyes were streaming, my nose was frozen, and I'm telling you if I ever become a hooker I'm going to charge and arm and a leg for my services. It's not as easy as it appears.
I continued my little sojourn.
Up the street and down the street.
Again and again.
It was 4o minutes later when I heard a concerned voice call up the street.
"Sweetie?"
It was Hans. Thank God!
Apparently I'd only been in the library about 10 minutes before being kicked out and I'd been on the streets for about 40.
Hans felt so bad. We both lamented the fact that I hadn't brought my cell phone, I reiterated why I hadn't found shelter elsewhere, and then we finally got into his warm car.
I chipped the icicles from my face and held my hands over the heat vents. I detest being cold, and you'd think after nearly a half a century of living in the bitter north that I'd get used to it.
But what really bothered me and still does, is not the fact that I very nearly suffered frostbite!

No.

What really bothers me is the fact that even though I'm certain that I looked like nothing more than a common prostitute is the fact that; not once was I propositioned.

For Valentines Day I want a pair of thigh high boots and another chance at the streets. Does anyone know what Richard Gere is doing that weekend?