Camille & Susannah Ted & Ginger

Camille and I had dinner with Ted, a mutual friend of ours who wanted to introduce us to his new girlfriend. Delighted for him, we were more than happy to go.

Ted has been auditioning women for some time now. I know that sounds a bit cynical but it’s true. He’s on more dating sites than anyone else I know vigilant in his search for the perfect mate.

When we heard that he had actually found someone we couldn’t wait to meet her.

We met at Orsay, a French bistro in the 70s on the Upper East Side. Being the first to arrive I made sure we had a great table. Camille flew in next looking as if she was attending a christening.

“Where are they?” she asked breathlessly.

“They’re not here yet.”

After waiting a few minutes we ordered cocktails. A few more minutes after that we called Ted.

“Where are you,?” asked Camille masking her irritation. She, more than anyone else I know, hates being kept waiting. “What do you mean Ginger isn’t ready, we’re both here waiting for the two of you.”

After a few more empty exchanges Camille hung up. “You’d think she’d want to make a good impression on two of his oldest friends.”

“Maybe that’s why she’s late Camille. She’s fussing.”

Forty-five minutes later they swept in like Fred and Ginger (couldn’t resist).

Let me just say Ginger was not what I had expected. Ted is a bit on the stuffy side – a broker, Harvard grad. I expected a young Jackie Kennedy to come waltzing in, not Miss Mezeppa from Gypsy with glasses no less.

Ginger, towering over Ted, has the body of an action figure.   Make no mistake when I say, she’s built. Camille, who’s not exactly flat-chested, looked like a boy in comparison. And forget about me. I suddenly felt like Olive Oyl. 

Ted was beside himself with adoration not taking his eyes off of her for a second.

“Omigod,” Camille whispered, “This is the potential mother of his children?”

After introductions all around I was the lucky one to have Ginger to my right who kept smiling like she was in the Miss Universe Pageant. I couldn’t help wondering if her jaws ached.

“Meet the girl of my dreams,” gushed Ted.

“We’ve been so anxious to meet you Ginger,” I said, immediately taking the high road. I learned this from my friend Ali who always says it’s a wiser route since there’s less traffic on it.

Camille, who was still annoyed she was kept waiting, wasn’t as charitable.

“You look fabulous, the two of you,” she said, “but you should, you were at it long enough.”

“Blame me,” said Ted, “we got a little sidetracked while Ginger was dressing.”

I’ll bet.

“So it’s your fault we’re already on our 3rd cocktail,” said Camille teasing with an edge.

“I just can’t keep my hands off of her,” Ted said.

I’ll bet (my new mantra).

While Ted and Camille had a conversation over stock prices I got to talk to Ginger, in theory that is. It seemed as though I was speaking to her chest more than to her. Ginger’s boobs were huge and I couldn’t tell if they were enhanced or not. Implants are not always so perky – they look more like sculpture fastened on a torso.

“What are you blind?” Camille snapped when I mentioned this. “If she was born with those then I’m Rin Tin Tin.”

Come to find out Ginger works in the garment center for some company I had never heard of that apparently makes western wear. “I model for them,” she said proudly.

From one model to another the images that were coming up were not standard. I saw her in chaps and a bustier then boots with a see through vest; lariats were everywhere and suddenly there was Ted, naked, riding sidesaddle. My mind turned into The Best of Penthouse without passing Go.

I truly tried being open and cordial but Ginger had very little to say. She did tell me how Ted said how much we had in common.

“He did?”

“Yeah, ya know, cause we both model.”

“Aha, yes of course. That is true.”

Imagine Dolly Parton and Twiggy trading tips.       

I really wanted to like her and be happy for Ted but it was challenging. He looked as if he got hit with a tw0 by four.

Camille, who excused herself to go to the ladies room, flashed me her emergency eyes that said, you have to go too.

“What is he thinking?” she said behind the safety of a stall. “His mother’s going to die when she meets her. This ditz will be sitting shiva passing around macaroons.”

I forgot that Ted was half Jewish.

“He’ll snap out of it Camille. It’s those boobs, they’ve hypnotized him like new toys, but you know how quickly he gets tired of things. Remember that jeep he bought during his Indiana Jones phase? It’s now at a garage in Jersey. No no, he’ll get tired of those two. You know the two I mean, right?

“I get it Susannah.”

The evening went on as if Camille and I weren’t even there. I think Ted, who waved off dessert, couldn’t wait to pay the check to go home to have dessert in private – I’m going to go with Ginger Snaps (did I just say that?)

I realize I’m a woman of a certain age but I know that looks go just so far. Initially they’ll get you in the door but after a while there has to be something more. A little dialogue is mandatory and I’m talking more than OOH-LA-LA-LA.

This young lady had absolutely nothing to say. All her thoughts were in her sweater. Ted, who’s such a brilliant guy, couldn’t really be serious…

now could he?

Out of all the women he met for coffee and quick drinks this is the one he picks.

Camille said he’s overworked and isn’t thinking.

I say he’s sexually smitten and will snap out of it.

When I don’t know…


He could be dead from a stroke by then.

I’m just saying.


About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
This entry was posted in Family, food, friendship, humor, Love, New York City, religion, sex, sexual relationships, women, Women and men, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

23 Responses to Camille & Susannah Ted & Ginger

  1. It looks like you and Camille may have to scrub up and surgically remove those love goggles.


  2. rheath40 says:

    OMG this is really quite a funny post. I can understand Camille’s frustration with Ted. What is about boobs that hypnotizes men? They make them blithering idiots for God sake. Don’t worry, he will soon find out that she has nothing to say. When he’s not emotionally fulfilled as well as sexually fulfilled she will lose her allure. Does he make decent money? Because that could be part of the attraction she feels to him. Hate to sound like she’s a gold digger but you never know. Hope you had a good weekend my dear.


  3. D. D. Syrdal says:

    I dunno, from what I know of men that’s pretty much all it takes for her to be ‘perfect’ for him. Yes, color me cynical, but I’ve seen it time and time again. They don’t have to have anything going on upstairs, as long as they meet the physical requirements. It’s the same reason you see 60-somethings hitting on 20-something girls. Poor you, having to try to talk to her.


    • Oh, that was the least of it. My politeness is built-in. Camille, on the other hand, hardly said anything. Frankly I don’t think either of them noticed. It all depresses me, the old man young girl scenario. I feel so obsolete these days, like an automatic can opener.


  4. manty67 says:

    I think we all have friends that date certain people and we wonder why? I use to worry about it and wonder if I should say something. But now I just wait and pick up the pieces ( does that make me sound like a horrible friend?)


  5. Nabilla says:

    You are one of those rare bloggers that keeps me entertained from the first word of every entry. This one especially. 🙂 Thanks for the mid-afternoon laugh. I really needed it.


  6. Rob says:

    At some level, we all try to peddle what we have, in order to attract a mate. Not everyone is born with scintilating wit or profound intellect. If you are blessed with long legs, a fat wallet, a pretty face or big tits, why not use them to their best advantage? Is it any worse than using clever conversation to win Mr Right?
    Looking from Mr Right’s perspective, provided you’re honest, all is fair. But that’s a two-way street: Mr Right has to be honest (not least with himself) about what he wants. If Ted can’t (or won’t) see past the pneumatic figure, he deserves what’s coming.


    • Wow, don’t hold back Rob, tell me what you think…lol I long for a guy to be that enamored with my looks but he hasn’t happened in a while. On my best younger day, I never looked like that where everyone in the room dropped their forks to look at me. Maybe I was a little jealous of Ginger. I also never saw Ted struck by lightening before. Add a few cocktails and voila, my post. I guess it’s fair to use what you have. You’re right.


  7. Rob says:

    Maeve likes to tell me that no one looks at her “that way” any more. I know different. I see the way that people (men particularly) check her out when she enters a room. I’m sure that the same is true of you. You are still employed as a model: people would not spend good money to engage your looks if they made no impression.
    Sorry if my response seemed a tad abrupt: I didn’t mean it that way.


    • I didn’t really take it that way and as far as my modeling goes, I’m not sought after like I once was…sigh


      • Rob says:

        That’s a perverse yardstick. I have NEVER been paid for my photo. That is true for 99.999% of the world’s population. So, looks wise, you’re in the top 0.001%. And you’re sighing ‘cos they don’t chase you like they used to?!! Both you and Maeve are drop-dead gorgeous but trying to get either of you to believe it, even when the evidence is overwhelming, is like trying to squeeze blood from a stone.


  8. Marian Green says:

    Throughly enjoyed your laugh out loud description of this of so awkward evening!


  9. merryprangster says:

    Being a woman “blessed” with a large bosom, I have always admired women who were able to use it to their advantage. I always found it an embarrassment. Men leering at me with nothing but sex on their minds, believing they are free to make any lewd comment that comes into their heads, has never been affirming for me. I have always sought to be wanted for my intelligence, erudition and wit but, alas, my breasts get in the way – just as they get in the way when I try to see my midsection. More power to Ginger if she can consider them and use them as an asset, especially since it appears they are the only two she has. As for me, I would gladly donate my own to some mindless twit if only ’twere possible. And I don’t know about the artificial kind, but the natural kind develop quite an unattractive sag with age. Play it while you can, Ted.


    • You’re funny. I always wanted that kind of body just for a week to see what it was like. Women that look like Ginger tend to have a much better time. Men go nuts. Sounds like you’re quite a beauty.


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