though, not if I still
wanted to have a job the next day, so I sucked it up. Odds were, I'd
end up with a kind elderly gentleman. Most of the men in the room
were old, hungering for the company of a youthful woman. The handful
of younger men would probably be fighting for the girls who stood at
my sides. They were certainly the most beautiful in the
room—guaranteed to win large sums for their charities.
Calm
down , I told myself as the bidding began for the girl at the end
of the line. You'll get the lowest bid, go out with a sweet older
man, get a good free meal and a ride in a fancy car that you'd never
be able to afford, pretend to enjoy yourself, and then go home and
cry yourself to sleep, dreading your crappy underpaying job the next
morning. Well, aren't I a big ball of cheer.
Naturally,
when the bidding got down to Malibu Barbie, the money began to fly.
As predicted, she got picked up by a young handsome businessman who
was probably looking for more than a casual dinner. How lucky for
her, I thought as I listened to the round of applause when she had
raked in a whopping seventy-five thousand dollars for St. Luke's
Childrens Hospital.
Then
it was my turn. As the auctioneer announced my name, I stepped
forward, letting my thoughts drift down to the three-inch heels that
I was wearing. They were horribly uncomfortable, even though they
weren't that tall. I never wore high heels. They just didn't make
sense to me, walking around on your toes with an unnatural arch in
your foot.
“ Let
the bidding begin,” the man said, drawing my attention to the
crowd. I didn't look at any of their faces, but rather over them,
straight to the back of the room. I was so nervous and embarrassed
that I didn't even want to see who was bidding for me.
Not
surprisingly, a kindly looking elderly man started at a low bid. This
is it , I thought. This will be my only bid, and the night will
go as predicted.
Another
man bid, equally old and equally low. Then the two men fought back
and forth a few times, just for show. By the time the auctioneer
said, “Going once, going twice,” the bid was up to
thirteen thousand dollars, the lowest bid for any of the girls. My
heart sank to the point that I thought I was going to vomit. It took
everything inside of me to remind myself that this was all for
charity, and as long as I brought in some money, then I had done a
good job. Still, it was emotionally crushing to know that I was again
the last kid to get picked for the sports team.
Just
as the auctioneer began to say, “sold,” another man stood
up, belting out a surprise bid of one hundred thousand dollars. My
eyes about popped out of my head. Not only was it the highest bid of
the night, but this man was also young and exceedingly attractive.
“ Sold,
to Mr. Fabel of MemeBoards,” the auctioneer announced, which
was met with many gasps throughout the crowd. The girls beside me
gave me hateful looks, but I was too awestruck to notice.
At
first, I hadn't known who this stranger was that had shocked the
crowd by offering the most money for the least attractive girl, but
as soon as I heard the word MemeBoards, his entire profile came into
mind. Garret Fabel, twenty-four years old, owner of one of the
world's top most social networks—the only one that could
contend with Facebook. This guy was beyond rich, beyond younger than
me, beyond gorgeous, and beyond single. It took everything in me to
keep the smug look off of my face, despite knowing it had been a pity
bid for publicity. There wasn't a woman in the entire room who didn't
want to go on a date with him, I was sure. But it was going to be me.
My
smugness wore off as soon as the auction was over, replaced by fear
of being won by such a prominent man. All eyes would be on us for the
rest of the evening. Our date would probably even get media coverage.
Finally,
the auction was over, and it was time to step down from the stage. My
heart choked me as my eyes landed on Garret Fabel's
wanted to have a job the next day, so I sucked it up. Odds were, I'd
end up with a kind elderly gentleman. Most of the men in the room
were old, hungering for the company of a youthful woman. The handful
of younger men would probably be fighting for the girls who stood at
my sides. They were certainly the most beautiful in the
room—guaranteed to win large sums for their charities.
Calm
down , I told myself as the bidding began for the girl at the end
of the line. You'll get the lowest bid, go out with a sweet older
man, get a good free meal and a ride in a fancy car that you'd never
be able to afford, pretend to enjoy yourself, and then go home and
cry yourself to sleep, dreading your crappy underpaying job the next
morning. Well, aren't I a big ball of cheer.
Naturally,
when the bidding got down to Malibu Barbie, the money began to fly.
As predicted, she got picked up by a young handsome businessman who
was probably looking for more than a casual dinner. How lucky for
her, I thought as I listened to the round of applause when she had
raked in a whopping seventy-five thousand dollars for St. Luke's
Childrens Hospital.
Then
it was my turn. As the auctioneer announced my name, I stepped
forward, letting my thoughts drift down to the three-inch heels that
I was wearing. They were horribly uncomfortable, even though they
weren't that tall. I never wore high heels. They just didn't make
sense to me, walking around on your toes with an unnatural arch in
your foot.
“ Let
the bidding begin,” the man said, drawing my attention to the
crowd. I didn't look at any of their faces, but rather over them,
straight to the back of the room. I was so nervous and embarrassed
that I didn't even want to see who was bidding for me.
Not
surprisingly, a kindly looking elderly man started at a low bid. This
is it , I thought. This will be my only bid, and the night will
go as predicted.
Another
man bid, equally old and equally low. Then the two men fought back
and forth a few times, just for show. By the time the auctioneer
said, “Going once, going twice,” the bid was up to
thirteen thousand dollars, the lowest bid for any of the girls. My
heart sank to the point that I thought I was going to vomit. It took
everything inside of me to remind myself that this was all for
charity, and as long as I brought in some money, then I had done a
good job. Still, it was emotionally crushing to know that I was again
the last kid to get picked for the sports team.
Just
as the auctioneer began to say, “sold,” another man stood
up, belting out a surprise bid of one hundred thousand dollars. My
eyes about popped out of my head. Not only was it the highest bid of
the night, but this man was also young and exceedingly attractive.
“ Sold,
to Mr. Fabel of MemeBoards,” the auctioneer announced, which
was met with many gasps throughout the crowd. The girls beside me
gave me hateful looks, but I was too awestruck to notice.
At
first, I hadn't known who this stranger was that had shocked the
crowd by offering the most money for the least attractive girl, but
as soon as I heard the word MemeBoards, his entire profile came into
mind. Garret Fabel, twenty-four years old, owner of one of the
world's top most social networks—the only one that could
contend with Facebook. This guy was beyond rich, beyond younger than
me, beyond gorgeous, and beyond single. It took everything in me to
keep the smug look off of my face, despite knowing it had been a pity
bid for publicity. There wasn't a woman in the entire room who didn't
want to go on a date with him, I was sure. But it was going to be me.
My
smugness wore off as soon as the auction was over, replaced by fear
of being won by such a prominent man. All eyes would be on us for the
rest of the evening. Our date would probably even get media coverage.
Finally,
the auction was over, and it was time to step down from the stage. My
heart choked me as my eyes landed on Garret Fabel's
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