I’m Just Not That Kinda Girl

I saw someone this morning who brought up an unpleasant incident that happened over thirty-five years ago, an event I’ve taught myself never to think about.

I had only met Joel once at a party Buffy, I’ll call her, had at her four-story townhouse on East 62nd Street. She was a rich girl I knew whose mother married a famous Hollywood director that she used to the hilt as currency to meet men. The trouble was, Buffy wasn’t all that attractive. Not that she wasn’t pretty, just overweight and very sloppy. Her mother would pull me aside and beg me to help her, but it ran much deeper than dieting and Dove. Buffy was one angry girl raised by a mother who only saw dollar signs, never love. I remember her telling me, “Susannah If you don’t date poor men you’ll never end up with one.” It was like telling Bambi to steer clear of the headlights. Money was not my aim at twenty…I wanted to be wanted by someone who knocked off my tights, so to speak.

She was the one coaxing Buffy to give this lavish party, to invite all the eligible men who basically weren’t interested in her. Her mother threatened to fly in from L.A and make all the arrangements if Buffy didn’t make them herself.

I was recruited to help.

The night in question was packed full of wanting women and successful Jewish men. I, along with the caterer, may have been the only shiksa present, and did I stand out. Buffy got mad because I looked too nice. I recall what I wore…it was my after dark uniform…black cotton capris, a white fitted blouse and little black flats. It was the onset of my Audrey period, and though Buffy tried to emulate it, she didn’t look quite the same.

Joel back then was truly tall, dark and handsome with a nose that made him look like an elegant prizefighter. He was standing by the baby grand piano drinking a martini when our eyes first met. It was one of those bolts of lightening that started in your groin and had to work its way up so you’d know what to do next.

I was modeling then but not making a fortune so next to the trust funds in the room, I was Little Orphan Annie, Buffy’s one weapon against me.

When she saw me talking to him she had a fit, summoning me over to presumably tell me something important. She actually had the nerve to ask me to pass the cheese balls. I declined, but couldn’t dodge her anger. “I didn’t invite you so you could snag the best guy in the room,” she said. “Who do you think you are anyway, you’re not even Jewish.”

This is was when I realized, we weren’t even friends.

Ignoring the attack, I went back over to Joel who asked for my number. My discomfort was great after my distorted redress and figuring I’d see him again anyway, I quietly left. Little did I know what would happen next.

Buffy, determined to make sure nothing good came out of this, called the next day to tender an apology. She said, “You know Susannah, I talked this over with my mother and we both felt it was only right to tell Joel the truth.”

“The truth?”

“That both your parents are drunks and you haven’t any money of your own. And most of all, you’re not Jewish.”

If nothing else, he must have known I wasn’t Jewish, but then again, men can be dense. I was stunned but thought, he’s not going to listen to this…or is he?

It gets even better. She then said, “My mother likes you so much that she told Joel he should make you an attractive offer. He’ll take you out a couple of times a month, you can wear all those little dresses you get for free from all those Seventh Avenue people you work for, and so there’s no misunderstanding, he’ll pay you three hundred dollars each time. Think of it, you’ll have a little nest egg of your very own.”

My naivety ran so deep back then I still didn’t get what she was implying. “Why on earth would he pay me?” I asked, like Dorothy in Munchkin Land.

“Because you’re not a Jew Susannah and there could never be anything between you. So the money makes it fair. He’ll get sex which, let’s face it, is the only thing he wanted from you anyway, and you can’t expect anything to develop. Everybody’s happy.”

Now I am paraphrasing since it happened so long ago, but I remember the wound as though it were inflicted yesterday. She and her mother weren’t going to quit until I was cut down to size and if I ever told my own mother what they proposed, she’d be on the next train with a baseball bat.

“So how bout it, can I tell Joel he has a deal?”

“You can tell Joel and your mother, I’m just not that kinda girl.”

When I saw him this morning badly aged and sullen, I wondered what I wondered then. Did he ever even know about this or was it just the cruel machinations of a mother and daughter desperate to oust an innocent, pretty girl.

But we’ll never know now we’ll we.

New York can be a tough town alright…and I guess you can say…

I’ve survived it.



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 Amazon.com. Thanks.
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28 Responses to I’m Just Not That Kinda Girl

  1. micklively says:

    You’ve had some strange friends, Susannah. Trying to prostitute you is plumbing new depths. I am amazed you came through this, and the other experienced you have described here, relatively unscathed. Many would have either gone into a shell, or turned forever bitter and twisted. It is a testament to your strength of character that you did neither.


    • I was like Alice tooling through the rabbit hole. I have many unsavory stories..one day I’ll have the courage to write all of them down. I’ve known many ruthless people…even now…just ended a working relationship with someone that treated me like a rag…at least in my fifth decade about to close, I can have the dignity to walk…such a freedom.


      • micklively says:

        Well, it’s good to maintain one’s dignity. But why do folk have to be so vile? It just makes everyone trepidacious, so everyone loses out.


      • In the big city it’s much worse…I really believe that. Even when you just go to Long island, people seem less self-absorbed and snooty. The girl who had that party ended up merging with some hot shot lawyer…love was on the lam but the coffers were filled to the brim. That’s what’s important here and it will never cease to amaze me…and the misery runs rampant let me add.


  2. micklively says:

    What kind of moron aspires to be rich and unhappy? My first wife was an heiress (or sorts) and my girlfriend in Singapore was a millionaire, but I don’t regret being astranged from either of them. I aspire to be the happy pauper! ๐Ÿ˜‰


  3. Rubenstein, Hal says:

    Wow quite a story ! Hope your well and working, speak to you soon Hal

    Hal Rubenstein
    First Vice President
    Financial Advisor
    Senior Portfolio Manager

    Morgan Stanley Wealth Management
    One Fawcett Place, 3rd FL
    Greenwich, CT 06830
    Direct: 203-625-4851
    Toll Free: 800-243-5977
    Tel: 203-661-3330
    Fax: 203-661-4280


  4. jimmie chew says:

    oh how i wish your friend camille was there!


  5. Wow! I would have borrowed your mother’s baseball bat and had fun for myself… Having been raised on the wrong side of the tracks I totally get how you felt… Today, I would have run into him and backed up and run into him again and again… Only, now, as a survivor, it would hardly be worth the effort would it? Great post, as usual… love reading your words. Thanks! DAF


    • The upside is being able to write about it. There was a time I could never have told that story. Brought up a lot of shame. Now I see I was the innocent party…only took over 3 decades.


      • sometimes it takes that long for the hurt to go away. I am glad you could write about it and know that you have survived this. I am sending you a cyber hug for blessing me today with this post.


      • Thanks DAF…I was very young so it slid off me like a bad dream I had…yet I have great recall over it…as a writer I’m grateful for that…but we always remember those that were kind and sadly unkind to us in our lifetimes. You’re very kind…so I’ll always remember you ๐Ÿ™‚


  6. katecrimmins says:

    Wow! With friends like this, who needs enemies? That cut deep.


  7. Vasca says:

    Buffy…pawned off on the highest bidder probably? Nothing like a mother/daughter team on the hunt, is there? Life in the big city does seem to get rather ‘down and dirty’ at times; but you have many fun/wow times! Thankfully you shook she and her mom off…they sound like check books and trust funds. If Joel agreed with what Buffy told you…I’m happy that Joel didn’t age so well…ha, ha! You and the Beatles have it right. Great…


  8. manty67 says:

    oh my god, what a horrible story, nasty people, I hope they are very unhappy were ever they maybe. Good on you rising about them. ๐Ÿ™‚ x


  9. Something tells me Joel didn’t have a clue either. These 2 desperate evil trolls planned the whole hurtful episode. Jealousy really is a monster! The saddest part of this whole story is knowing that there are at least 2 people in the world who have never experienced love.


    • That’s an excellent point…she was a victim of her upbringing. I mean her mother groomed her to be a bitch. I remember she met a guy she really liked who didn’t have lots of money. He wasn’t poor mind you, but her mother felt she could do much better considering her Hollywood dowry. In retrospect it truly makes me sick. Lucky for me I was still young enough to not let the incident kill me. I remember just feeling sad I wouldn’t see Taffy, their King Charles Spaniel, anymore who she ended up giving away when she met the man she eventually married because he hated dogs. I know…just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse.


  10. skinnyuz2b says:

    Wow, Susannah. This should be totally unbelievable, yet it isn’t. I had a family of rich cousins that were bad, but nothing like your experience.
    The cousin my age once told me that the only reason the boys gravated toward me instead of her was because I was a blonde. When she broke up with a tall, dark, and handsome classmate of mine, she told her mother I had stolen him away. The truth is I detested him, he was a cheater and liar, and I never would go out with him. My cousin broke up because he made some very weird advances. If she told the truth, her parents were so stict that they would have monitored all future dates. I didn’t set the record straight with her family, but I enlightened all my aunts.
    If your story was in a movie, we’d all be saying, “Oh, how cliche. That would never happen in real life.”


    • I love my friend’s Dynasty line…it was very prosaic cinematically, you’re right skinny…but life is stranger than art, if you can call Dynasty art though I did watch it when it was on. You had to love and fear that Alexis.


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