Went to the strip club yesterday. It was the first time in three months or so. I try not to go too often, because I want to save money. And the last time I went wasn't much fun, so it was easy to convince myself to stay away for a while. Anyway, last night I went to a club I'd only been to once before. I didn't have a very good time the first time, so I almost convinced myself not to stop this time. But... well, you know that line in How I Met Your Mother, when Ted says "nothing good happens after 2 AM?" That's totally true. In this case, it was only like 11 PM, but it's still true. A person's decision making isn't the best when they're tired, bored, and a little horny.
Anyway, last night was pretty enjoyable. This club has a feature where you can pay a flat $150 for a solid half-hour in a VIP room. It's probably overpriced, but I'd never done it before, and--again-- questionable decisions happen late at night. But it was a nice, intimate time. And there was a lot of conversation. I mean, a lot of it was just dirty talk to set the mood. She asked if I watched porn, and what I was into. But she also asked things like what fantasies I have, and what things a girl can do to really get me excited.
And that got me thinking. I admit that I'm not very experienced sexually-- I regret not trying harder in college-- but I really didn't know the answers to those sex questions. I don't know if it's lack of experience, or just because I'm so repressed; but it's a bummer that I don't know myself any better than that.
Anyway, this afternoon I spent a lot of time on Tinder. Profiles kept popping up, and I was bored, so I kept swiping. It's pretty rare for me to get any matches, but by late this afternoon, I'd gotten three. I'll be honest, I almost panic when I get a match-- I'm just so fucking scared to put myself out there that I convince myself the girl isn't that hot, or she's too far away, or whatever. But three matches? That was too much opportunity to piss away.
So I sent messages to all three of them. Naturally, that was followed by the shakes, butterflies in the stomach, and eventually a pretty urgent need to poop. I know, way too much information, but I realize the humor in it as well. Or maybe I'm just trying to find humor in it. If I ever end up actually meeting a girl through Tinder, I'll probably either shit myself, throw up, or have a heart attack. Anyway, the hottest girl-- and the only one to reply so far-- turned out to be a fake profile. And another one of the girls deleted me. I'm still waiting to see if the third girl responds.
I really hate that, as a grown-ass man, I'm so inexperienced, and that it's so difficult for me to take a chance. It's probably not going to get better at this point. If I can't find success on Tinder, it probably won't happen anywhere. I'm destined to be that 50- or 60-year-old guy you see at the strip club, who's getting lap dances from one of his "regular" girls, rather than spending time with his grandkids. The grandkids he doesn't have, because he never got married.
(Side note: what the fuck is with the girls on Tinder who say "I'm not here for a hookup?" Do they not understand that's the reason Tinder exists? Ugh.)
Jesus, I'm rambling. I don't know if anyone will read this; and I'm not looking for advice, necessarily. I just wanted to put it somewhere other than my personal journal. I certainly couldn't post it on Facebook, where my friends, family, and coworkers would all see it. But if there's anyone out there as awkward as me, you're not alone, bud.