I told her I thought it looked very nice. There may have also been a thumbs up involved.
As the final fanfare died down, I felt a wave of relief. It was almost over. "Stand up, Meagan," Ebony commanded. Umm... what? There’s more? I didn’t want to be argumentative in the tiny booth on the top floor of a Times Square peep show so I did as I was told.
"You have very nice thighs," she told me. "Lift up your skirt to let me see." For a hot second I blushed with pride and actually put my hands to my skirt, contemplating returning the favor. All of a sudden the curtain rolled itself down and Ebony opened the door telling me for an extra $20 I could continue the show in the back room.
Sh*t. She got me. She never liked my thighs. She didn’t care about what I had going on. I was just a dollar sign, no better than all the other chumps who have wandered into these rooms looking for a little validation and a couple minutes of attention from a naked stranger. Times Square 1, Meagan 0.
I think this will probably end my career as a Times Square peeper. No regrets (actually ALL the regrets), but I’d like to limit my sexual adventures to more modest endeavors like actual sex, in the privacy of my bedroom. At the very least it was a lesson in the history of our great city and a cautionary tale about what happens when you decide to opt out of bottomless brunch on the first beautiful Saturday in New York. It will never happen again.
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Meagan Drillinger is a freelance writer for Thrillist. She’s still in the shower. Follow her on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter at @drillinjourneys.