In Search of a Sugar Daddy, Part 3

With CW's interest in real estate quickly waning, (Or maybe it was my tolerance for her interest in real estate that was quickly waning?) she had to find a new hobby to occupy her time while the rest of the roommates were at work or school. I don't know why it didn't occur to me earlier, but after a few days of watching her sulk around the apartment in her thong and bra (yes --- that was her typical outfit during the day when there were only girls around), I realized that CW is Persian and we live in Westwood... home to numerous Persians. I asked CW if she wanted me to drop her off on the other side of Wilshire for the day so she can explore all the Persian shops on Westwood Blvd. Of course, I would pick her up five hours later on my way back from work. She begrudgingly agreed and went to her room to put on her painted on jeans and ripped up, too small white t-shirt. Oh boy, here we go again.

Five hours later, I picked up a smiling, frizzy-haired crack whore on the corner of Westwood and Wellworth. The day had been successful, no doubt. Not only had CW managed to find two cute Persian boys with a GS400 to drive her around, pay for her to get her nails done, and smoke hookah at Habibi Cafe, she quickly announced to me that the minute we get home I need to get ready. We are going out with the boys. They are coming in their Range Rover to pick us up and take us out. There was no way I was going anywhere alone with CW and two random Person guys, so the second I got home I pleaded with my other two roommates to come too.

The three of us tossed on jeans and tops, and then we watched CW emerge from her room looking like she was wearing too little to even be rubbing up against a poll in a strip club. With hair that big, it's a shock she was able to get through the door to her room. Her phone started vibrating and we all rushed outside to meet the guys. I have to hand it to CW. For someone that looks like a crack whore, she can pick up some attractive men. While these two guys were definitely on the shorter end, they were pretty good looking and polite. They opened doors for us, asked us how we were, but there was a sleazy element to them I just couldn't put my finger on.

We piled into the Range Rover, and the guys drove us around mid-Wilshire for a bit. They asked us questions: "What are you studying?", "Are you Persian like CW?", "Where do you like to shop?", "What clubs do you go to?", "Where do you like to eat?". Per CW's instructions, we carefully evaded questions that could pinpoint our financial situation in anyway. We neglected to answer questions about our favorite clothes, food or clubs. According to CW, "Never tell a guy that you like to shop at Bebe. Then all he'll get for you is clothes from Bebe, when if you didn't tell him any better, he may have taken you to Versace." So mum was the word through much of the car ride. Finally, they decided they wanted to take us somewhere to eat. Considering we were in Beverly Hills by that point, all of us were eager with anticipation to see where they would take us to eat. Spago? Il Fornaio? Maybe Il Cielo? Nope, they turned the car around and rushed us right back to Westwood and pulled into the parking garage of the Olive Garden.

Now, I have no problem at all with the Olive Garden, and I would never, ever think badly of a guy if he took me there. CW on the other hand, has serious problems with Olive Garden. We could tell that she was hopping mad that we spent all this time with these guys and all we get out of it was a crummy dinner at Olive Garden. What's worse is when the hostess announced we had a 45 minute wait, CW literally blew a fuse. She told the two Persian guys, "I don't know who you two normally hang out with, but this is absolutely unacceptable." They registered confused looks on their faces, spoke in Persian to each other, then finally turned to CW, said a few "choice" words to her in Persian and stormed off. So in the end, not only did we not get any clothes (not even from Bebe), or any dinner, but we had to walk a mile home because CW managed to anger the two guys she picked up and insisted we go out with that evening.

By this point in time, my roommates and I had officially had enough. We ignored CW in the mornings as she sulked around the apartment in her thong and bra, but then a few days later we were forced to pay attention to her. We had promised to take her out on Sunset one night that summer, and that night had come.