"Hey sis, what's your opinion on butlers?"
I was speechless as I tried to figure out exactly what I had just been asked upon answering my cell phone.
"What do you mean… like... in general?" I finally managed to muster.
"Not exactly, I was talking with some guys on a forum and you know how certain males have a "thing" for maids… well we were wondering if the same was true for women and butlers… so how about it Sis… butlers do anything for you?"
Saturday, 9:05 PM, the 23rd of June, 2001. It was a comfortingly warm summer night, the kind you get nostalgic for the second winter comes around. On a night like this the majority of twenty-one year old girls attending college are probably either out partying or at the very least studying. You know things that are considered either fun or productive. Apparently, I did not exist among the echelon of society, known as the majority of twenty-one year old girls attending college because I was doing neither of the aforementioned activities.
No, on this quaint summer night I, Joey Claire was sitting in my abandoned dorm room, being interrogated by my seventeen year old brother, Jude, as to whether butlers "Did anything for me". It was even complete with a set of incredibly audible scare quotes.
"I probably shouldn't even justify this line of questioning with an answer..."
I took a deep sigh, as vaguely uncomfortable as this was it was still more interesting than just sitting around procrastinating.
"However... since you went to all the trouble of calling me on this busy friday night, I'll have you know that while, like most people, I do appreciate the idea of being served and made to feel important, the platonic ideal of a butler does very little for me in terms of romantic intrigue nor does the outfit convey some innate sense of sensuality in itself. In short, I can't say I entirely see the appeal of a butler outside of the obvious practical benefits."
As I stopped talking I came to the slightly embarrassing realisation that my grandiose hand gestures were being lost on the cellphone's tiny microphone. It was a good thing that everybody I shared the dorm with had a more active social life than me. If they, hell if anybody was privy to the notion of me making an impassioned rant on the supposed appeal of butlers to a 17 year old boy, I'd probably want to curl up into a little ball of shame until the end of days finally came to take me out of my misery.
Jude was silent for a second. I could have sworn I heard the faint sound of a pencil writing on paper in the background.
"Hmm… not quite what I expected considering the kind of person you are..."
What kind of person did he think I was!?
"Nevertheless..." He continued. "This data should be integral when pooled with that of my peers. Thank you for your time, I hope I wasn't keeping you away from anything important. Looking forward to your next visit back home, Over and out."
And like that, before I could even say goodbye, he'd hung up. I started to wonder, how many other women had fell victim to Jude & Co.'s house assistant-based inquisition. He wasn't exactly the kind of person you'd expect to have a lot of female friends. Was I his only first hand source?
In all honesty, I was starting to question the scientific Integrity of this study...
To top it all off though was the casually inserted radio sign off used to end the call. Back when we were both younger Jude communicated almost entirely in that way, using overly rigid terminology originating from military agents involved in espionage, and well despite my heavily biased angle I had to admit it. He'd come a long way from that, in fact in a few more years he might even be comprehensible to your average human being.
I tried to imagine a socially adjusted version of Jude Harley, chuckling to myself.
As I did this, my finger began unconsciously rotating around the spiral pattern of the key shaped object attached to a chain around my neck.
Blissfully unaware of what the peculiar green object had in store for me…