Then on Saturday night, of course, he’d bring in his wife from Connecticut or New Jersey or whatever to meet his Bunny. Then you’d give a handful of swizzle sticks to the wife to take home to the kids. Because you never, ever wanted to look like you were in competition with the wife. There was always a kind of collusion there: make a wife feel important. It was a flirtatious kind of thing: how we are treating the men in our life. You know, I’m his Bunny, you’re his wife You never wanted to get into competition with the wife, because it would affect your tip. That’s mercenary. But it was also an understanding that, on their evening out, you had to be sensitive to the fact that you’re standing there in a provocative costume and she’s all dressed up in a cocktail dress. She’s going home with the guy.That said, I've never particularly understood the draw of places where a bunch of heterosexual men all go to bond by getting horny together by looking at women they can't touch. But every time I ask this question I get told I just ruined Hooters, so I have yet to get an answer beyond a sadface and a discourse on how my questionee can now never have Hooter's excellent wings again.
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posted by mippy at 4:46 AM on May 4, 2011