Has anyone ever mistaken you as a hooker? A strange guy walked up to you at some random place and told you he would give you money if you had sex with him? Any cops accused you of prostituting?
There was that one time in Memphis when I was wearing a really short skirt and high heels.
No wait… that didn’t happen.
So… Ummmm… No.
There have been some very funny thread titles on the SDMB. But for some reason, I think this one wins the prize. Thanks for the laugh – I needed it.
The answer is no.
No. When I’m a prostitute I am always absolutely certain I’m correct.
I would be more likely to have to pay, than to get paid.
Anyway, I’m more likely to be mistaken for someone who’s lost and has no business being anywhere near that part of town.
Not mistaken, no.
I’m going to go with what I assume you meant your question to ask: have you ever been mistaken for a prostitute?
No. “your honor, I have never turned a trick in my life”
I guess technically, yes? I took a cab home after a very late party, and the cab driver was asking about my night … and it took me a while to figure out he was assuming my night out was business, not social – it was pleasant enough chatting, but it was one of those conversations where it slowly dawned on me that we weren’t talking about the same thing. :eek: He wasn’t speaking in a salacious way, more like “person who works the night shift commiserating about the hours” kind of way.
I’m still not sure if it was what I was wearing, the neighborhood where he picked me up, or what exactly gave him that impression.
No but I was once mistaken for someone who might be able to be talked into it. A pimp tried to recruit me.
My gf was in Moscow for a class trip in college. Apparently standard party attire for college age girls is very similar to hooker wear in Russia. Not sure if this says more about fashion in the US or the expectations of women in Russia.
I’ve never had anyone try to hire me or arrest me, but it’s a common assumption people make when I’m dolled up and out for an evening with my 22 years my senior and homely husband. I mostly ignore it. Occasionally, I encourage it by getting PDAey and then making aggressive eye contact with the starers, because we think it’s pretty funny.
Hey, me too. When he wasn’t telling me about his payola deals he was telling me about a girl he had set up with a really nice flat… Sheffield University bar, middle of the day, hanging out with the potheads.
I have actually been mistaken for a prostitute, although hassled by guys who probably did know better is more like it. At the time I was a student, living close to the Uni in what was also the red light district. It was a very mixed area, with families living alongside the students and the working girls. Kerb crawlers were a continual nuisance to any woman or girl walking through. It was pretty easy to tell who was actually looking for business by dress and behaviour so I’m pretty certain the majority of those arseholes knew what they were doing.
On my first night living there I did make a mistake. I’d previously lived in a pretty quiet place so I thought nothing of opening the front door at midnight, in my nightie, to call the cat in. I saw a car slow down thought “Oops.” and shut the door pretty damn quick.
At the time I was living there the Yorkshire Ripper was carrying out his crimes, mostly in the neighbouring county of West Yorkshire. His victims were prostitutes, women looking for casual hookups in pubs and students. By that time the state of heightened alertness had come to be normal and it had never stopped me walking at night alone in any case. None of his murders had taken place in Sheffield and the city had always felt safer than the small army town I’d grown up in. The year after I moved away he was arrested, just round the corner from where I was living, in the company of a prostitute he was almost certainly planning to kill.
Damned. Beat me to it.
As = is
Like = similar to
For = in the place of
Liar liar, pants on…um… fire!
No. Oh wait! There was that time in…never mind.
Offering a girl money for sex doesn’t mean she’s been mistaken for a hooker, necessarily, just that the guy thinks she’ll turn into one if offered enough money.
Was that you in BC?
I have been asked by two different people on the street outside my house recently if I could sell them weed. Apparently, I look like a drug dealer. And this is a nice neighborhood! I wouldn’t even have a clue about where to go to buy weed around here, and I certainly don’t have any. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t sell it to some random doofus on the street.
I have no idea what is up with this, as I was operating under the assumption, apparently mistakenly, that I look like a regular, upstanding citizen. Well, I do wear a hoodie, so maybe it’s that.