My first (and only) boyfriend was a Cornell graduate who majored in Math.  He used to work  for an internet company, writing algorithms for advertising campaigns which targeted specific consumers in order to maximize returns.  At the time, I was blown away by his explanation that, in the age of technology/information, advertising is done through math.  The right algorithm can calculate if the audience is a one-time or potential repeat customer, the amount of their discretionary income, the highest price they will pay, find you a life partner, walk your dog, and move your car on street cleaning days.

If he was around today, I’d ask him to construct an algorithm for Cassandra.  The Bay Area fucks up my layman’s calculations because there are SO MANY RICH PEOPLE HERE!  I definitely want to maximize my revenues.  At the same time, I want to be cognizant that we are in a recession, and Cassandra wants to be everybody’s friend. 

She’s kind of slutty that way.

So I asked Reuben what he thought.

What’s the best price I can get, Reuben?

We were sitting on my bed, and he looked off into the distance.  At first I thought he was looking at the TV, but when I looked the TV was off.  Reuben had a glazed, dreamy look in his eyes.  After I heard what came out of his mouth, I realized he must have been looking into another dimension of reality.  In a galaxy far, far away. 

In this new reality, Reuben has lost fifty pounds and he, too, is a hooker.  (Actually, considering what he’s about to say, let’s make it more like he needs to lose 80 pounds.  SnAp!)

He begins by telling me that, if he ever decided to whore himself, he would make a lot more money than me.

Cassandra, he says, with a quiet and earnest sincerity, my customers would see something very pure and innocent in me. 

They will see my inner light right away. 

They will want to possess that inner light, just like all my ex-boyfriends tried to.

They will spend whatever it takes to own me.

And I will make a lot of money.  A lot more than you, Cassandra.

But it will leave me broken, dark, and bitter.  They will crush my inner child.

And just to make sure he made his point, Reuben looked at me in the eyes to reiterate: 

But I will definitely make more money than you.

Of course, this piece of revelation worried me greatly.  See, I didn’t ask Reuben what he should charge if he ever became a hooker.  I asked Reuben what I should be charging right now, since I am, in fact, the one who’s the hooker.

So is Reuben trying to tell me something?  Is my inner light at stake?  Is he trying to tell me the dangers of prostitution? 

What’s going on?

Reuben, Reuben,  I cried.  What about me?  Will prostitution leave me broken and bitter?

And Reuben arches his eyebrows as his eyes performs an ever so subtle, split-second, up-and-down full body assessment of me.

 No, Cassandra.  You’re just a bitch.

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Tags: Cornell, culture, hooker algorithms, recession pricing, revenue maximization