Bob, Nice Guy Bobby. Nice Guy Bobby is the name I have mentally scrolled on the profile on him in my head. Labeled as such because hes a really, really nice guy. Sammy and I went over to his house as to work out what we were doing Saturday night.
The previous plan was to hang out a bit, go to a diner, hit some bars, blah-blah-blah.
I agreed despite the fact that I am neither a bar person nor a well, mostly because Im not a bar person. Im very guarded against my imagewho and what I associate myself with.
The image I get in my head when I think of beer is rednecks, sports, and ditzy, bikini clad manipulators getting redneck sport-fans to buy beer.
In my head, when I think of bars, I think of these people. I think of drunk assholes getting alotta drunk and trying to get laid.
So I dont like bars. I dont need drunk people around me to know Im having fun. I dont need to be drunk to know Im having fun.
Ok, at Nice Guys house, were introduced to Brandon and Josh.
Josh was just getting out of the bathroom when we got there, and the first words out of his mouth were What the fuck is this queer shit?
This was in reference to the music that was onsome radio station, Power 92 or some shit. It plays all the biggest hits! Yee-haw.
Josh reminds me of a younger, thinner Peter Berg. Really, he looks a lot like Peter Berg. Yeah, so that was only the first of many passive-aggressive homophobic remarks that crossed Joshs lips that night.
Brandon showed up about a half hour later. Whilst he was walking up to Bobs apartment on the second floor, Nice Guy warns me that B is sensitive about the bump under his eye, his cyst. That hes liable to go off on someone if theyre staring at it.
Brandon comes up, I catch a glimpse of the cyst, and decide not to look him in the eyes the rest of the night.
Bobby, though, the first thing he says is, Dude! That things getting fuckin huu-uuge!
And I think, My god, Nice Guy Bobbys trying to get me killed asshole.
Whilst Bobs getting ready to go, Josh and Brandon talk about how they hope they dont get into another fight tonight. This, apparently, happens a lot when they go out and drink. Their plan, at that point, is not to get into a fighta pact of sorts.
First stop is the rinky-dink bowling alley that S, M and I went to last week.
Pool, burgers, beer, fries, cigarettes, and beers. Oh, and a Smirnoff Ice for me. Cos, apparently, Im a girl.
Half hour into it, Millie calls, S tells him where we are. He says hell be there inna minute.
MilesI thoughtthe guys are gonna love Miles.
Ten minutes later, Millie shows up with a pool cue, wearing a blue muscle shirt.
Millie cant pull offa muscle shirt.
The guys are decidedly guarded and distant towards Miles from that point on.
Twenty minutes later, they its somehow decided that we go to Fantasy Landa strip club thats reopening in P-Town under new management.
I think the reason we decided to hop to a strip club instead of a bar is that both Josh and Bob were coming off of hard break-ups.
Tits, ass, and softcore lesbian action soothes all wounds, I guess.
I avoid strip clubs because of the image-association thing and cos I think they're kinda pointless. Whats the point of having a naked girl in front of you if you cant DO anything about it?
Now that Ive been to one, I actually see the point. Its entertainment. Not the most highbrow or interesting form of entertainment, but entertainment nonetheless.
But I must say, theres an unreasonable disconnect in a strip club environmentboth for normal people and for myself.
Average men go in sane, even headed humans and become sociopath monsters and wolves. They disassociate the person on stage dancing with any kind of actual person. I hadnt realized what the term Sex Object actually meant until I walked into a strip club.
Screaming, chanting, whoopingdrunken bastards on all sides of me, shouting obscene actions that sound like threats.
Im gonna fuck her in the ass!
God, Id love to unload on her face!
Id pound her pussy!
Id fuck her ass, THEN fuck her pussygive her a stinky pussy!
More beers, high fives.
Im a guy and this shit was making me uncomfortable.
And its weird, the guys sitting around the stage, the guys getting the best show, their attention goes to any tail that walks by.
Theres a point when watching something when my brain stops registering what my eyes are seeing. My mind starts drifting and thinking about whatever. What starts out athey, tits! Goes toI wonder what shes like in real life, when shes not acting or getting paid for this.
Why my mind shifts to that is MY disconnect. I cant disassociate the person on stage with the person who buys Grape Nuts and has some sort of familya mother and father.
It only takes my eyes to meet her eyes, then Im gone. Going thru whatever situations might have lead her to thisshaking her ass for ones, making believe that shes interested in drunken fools.
Licking he coworkers labia.
Giggling, smiling, pretending her breasts arent out, smelling of bubble-gum and alcohol.
So, thats where my mind goes, thats my disconnect.
And then Im jolted back to reality. And suddenly Im surrounded by wolves.
And bad butt-rock.
For me, it was too much at once. I would be in a peaceful place, thinking first of whatever the real girl is like, then a narration would start and my mind would go off from there. ThenBAM!perverts and beer and ugliness.
Two more shots and whatever she wants. Jack and Coke? Do it.
I dont care what her cut off the top is.
Im drunk and I wanna stick itwhere?
When Ive got some alcohol in me and theres a beautiful naked girl dancing in front of me, Im not all WHOOO! YEAH! FUCK! GOD, I GOTTA GET SOME OF THAT! YEAAAAH! I LOOOO-OVE PUSSY!
When Im buzzed and theres a naked girl wiggling in front of me, Im very much al right pretty, naked girl. Right on.
Very mellow, very mellow.
So, from going from this peaceful, mellow vibe , slamming into that angry, aggressive, hostile, mean vibeit was too much.
It gave me The FearI was surrounded by wolves, knowing that if I let my thoughts slip away that Ill become one of em, that if I let em slip out, Ill be ripped apart.
And I told S that I needed to go outto get some air. That the place was giving me The Fear.
And if I felt like a complete outsider inside, going outside made me total freak.
I was in for nearly 2 hours before it got on me and i had to get out, and in the parking-lot, after a few cigarettes, I felt ready to take it on again.
S was getting a lap dance when I got back in. Bob said he was going to pay for me to get one. When I told him that I wanted nothing to do with a strippers vagina, that it was waaa-ay too unclean, he just gave me an odd look and said, You like pussy, right?
Yeah, I said. I said that I was more interested in the waitress, though, and he said he couldnt help me.
Josh had a thing for one of the strippers. After getting a Private Dance with the girl, he came back and professed, Im in love!
Whilst writing something down in my journal, he asked for a piece of paper, I obliged. On it, he wrote his name, number, and the message, Call me. Lets meet someplace outside of a strip club.
His writing, it looked like a childs handwriting. I could see a crayon in his hand, I was looking for the backwards S.
The main attraction of the night was a porn star who was voted top stripper in America or something. Whilst doing her show, the chick Josh was into went up, got naked, and the Main stripper went down on her.
After that, S turned around and said, You wanna recant that previous statement?
Josh, Hmm?
I said, Dude, she just had her pussy eaten up thereyou missed it.
Josh, What? I saw her going up there, but then shelikedisappeared or something. DamnitI feel like slitting my wrist.
Later she came up and asked J if he wanted to buy her a drink. Laughing and smiling, he bubble-gum tits out bouncing around. At this point, I was like, dude, lets bail.
And we left. Whilst leaving, Nice Guy apologized for what happened. I explained to him that it got way too aggressive and hostile there for a minute, he said that it was something that we doits a show, you know?
I nodded and asked, Next week?
Weekend after next, he said. Well come back week after next.
The strip club atmosphere, Id say, is like as if Las Vegas and Hell teamed up. There are all these lost souls, drinking and repressing sexual desires, aggression, hostility and built up violence waiting for any release. And rampant, unapologetic capitalismbuy this, support that, buy me, give me, fuck me. Giggle, giggle.
Too much macho shit, too much deception.
And I cant wait to go backyou know, to reevaluate my position.
Cognitive dissonance, youre nothing without it.
Boop.
I woke up today
to find myself in the other place
with a trail of footprints
from where I ran away
it seems everything I've heard
just might be true
and you know me
(well you think you do)
sometimes, I have everything - yet I wish I felt something
do you know how far this has gone?
just how damaged have I become?
when I think I can overcome
it runs even deeper
and in a dream I'm a different me
with a perfect you
we fit perfectly
and for once in my life I feel complete
and I still want to ruin it
afraid to look
as clear as day
this plan has long been underway
I hear them call
I cannot stay
the voice inviting me away
do you know how far this has gone?
just how damaged have I become?
when I think I can overcome
it runs even deeper
everything that matters is gone
all the hands of hope have withdrawn
could you try to help me hang on?
it runs...
The previous plan was to hang out a bit, go to a diner, hit some bars, blah-blah-blah.
I agreed despite the fact that I am neither a bar person nor a well, mostly because Im not a bar person. Im very guarded against my imagewho and what I associate myself with.
The image I get in my head when I think of beer is rednecks, sports, and ditzy, bikini clad manipulators getting redneck sport-fans to buy beer.
In my head, when I think of bars, I think of these people. I think of drunk assholes getting alotta drunk and trying to get laid.
So I dont like bars. I dont need drunk people around me to know Im having fun. I dont need to be drunk to know Im having fun.
Ok, at Nice Guys house, were introduced to Brandon and Josh.
Josh was just getting out of the bathroom when we got there, and the first words out of his mouth were What the fuck is this queer shit?
This was in reference to the music that was onsome radio station, Power 92 or some shit. It plays all the biggest hits! Yee-haw.
Josh reminds me of a younger, thinner Peter Berg. Really, he looks a lot like Peter Berg. Yeah, so that was only the first of many passive-aggressive homophobic remarks that crossed Joshs lips that night.
Brandon showed up about a half hour later. Whilst he was walking up to Bobs apartment on the second floor, Nice Guy warns me that B is sensitive about the bump under his eye, his cyst. That hes liable to go off on someone if theyre staring at it.
Brandon comes up, I catch a glimpse of the cyst, and decide not to look him in the eyes the rest of the night.
Bobby, though, the first thing he says is, Dude! That things getting fuckin huu-uuge!
And I think, My god, Nice Guy Bobbys trying to get me killed asshole.
Whilst Bobs getting ready to go, Josh and Brandon talk about how they hope they dont get into another fight tonight. This, apparently, happens a lot when they go out and drink. Their plan, at that point, is not to get into a fighta pact of sorts.
First stop is the rinky-dink bowling alley that S, M and I went to last week.
Pool, burgers, beer, fries, cigarettes, and beers. Oh, and a Smirnoff Ice for me. Cos, apparently, Im a girl.
Half hour into it, Millie calls, S tells him where we are. He says hell be there inna minute.
MilesI thoughtthe guys are gonna love Miles.
Ten minutes later, Millie shows up with a pool cue, wearing a blue muscle shirt.
Millie cant pull offa muscle shirt.
The guys are decidedly guarded and distant towards Miles from that point on.
Twenty minutes later, they its somehow decided that we go to Fantasy Landa strip club thats reopening in P-Town under new management.
I think the reason we decided to hop to a strip club instead of a bar is that both Josh and Bob were coming off of hard break-ups.
Tits, ass, and softcore lesbian action soothes all wounds, I guess.
I avoid strip clubs because of the image-association thing and cos I think they're kinda pointless. Whats the point of having a naked girl in front of you if you cant DO anything about it?
Now that Ive been to one, I actually see the point. Its entertainment. Not the most highbrow or interesting form of entertainment, but entertainment nonetheless.
But I must say, theres an unreasonable disconnect in a strip club environmentboth for normal people and for myself.
Average men go in sane, even headed humans and become sociopath monsters and wolves. They disassociate the person on stage dancing with any kind of actual person. I hadnt realized what the term Sex Object actually meant until I walked into a strip club.
Screaming, chanting, whoopingdrunken bastards on all sides of me, shouting obscene actions that sound like threats.
Im gonna fuck her in the ass!
God, Id love to unload on her face!
Id pound her pussy!
Id fuck her ass, THEN fuck her pussygive her a stinky pussy!
More beers, high fives.
Im a guy and this shit was making me uncomfortable.
And its weird, the guys sitting around the stage, the guys getting the best show, their attention goes to any tail that walks by.
Theres a point when watching something when my brain stops registering what my eyes are seeing. My mind starts drifting and thinking about whatever. What starts out athey, tits! Goes toI wonder what shes like in real life, when shes not acting or getting paid for this.
Why my mind shifts to that is MY disconnect. I cant disassociate the person on stage with the person who buys Grape Nuts and has some sort of familya mother and father.
It only takes my eyes to meet her eyes, then Im gone. Going thru whatever situations might have lead her to thisshaking her ass for ones, making believe that shes interested in drunken fools.
Licking he coworkers labia.
Giggling, smiling, pretending her breasts arent out, smelling of bubble-gum and alcohol.
So, thats where my mind goes, thats my disconnect.
And then Im jolted back to reality. And suddenly Im surrounded by wolves.
And bad butt-rock.
For me, it was too much at once. I would be in a peaceful place, thinking first of whatever the real girl is like, then a narration would start and my mind would go off from there. ThenBAM!perverts and beer and ugliness.
Two more shots and whatever she wants. Jack and Coke? Do it.
I dont care what her cut off the top is.
Im drunk and I wanna stick itwhere?
When Ive got some alcohol in me and theres a beautiful naked girl dancing in front of me, Im not all WHOOO! YEAH! FUCK! GOD, I GOTTA GET SOME OF THAT! YEAAAAH! I LOOOO-OVE PUSSY!
When Im buzzed and theres a naked girl wiggling in front of me, Im very much al right pretty, naked girl. Right on.
Very mellow, very mellow.
So, from going from this peaceful, mellow vibe , slamming into that angry, aggressive, hostile, mean vibeit was too much.
It gave me The FearI was surrounded by wolves, knowing that if I let my thoughts slip away that Ill become one of em, that if I let em slip out, Ill be ripped apart.
And I told S that I needed to go outto get some air. That the place was giving me The Fear.
And if I felt like a complete outsider inside, going outside made me total freak.
I was in for nearly 2 hours before it got on me and i had to get out, and in the parking-lot, after a few cigarettes, I felt ready to take it on again.
S was getting a lap dance when I got back in. Bob said he was going to pay for me to get one. When I told him that I wanted nothing to do with a strippers vagina, that it was waaa-ay too unclean, he just gave me an odd look and said, You like pussy, right?
Yeah, I said. I said that I was more interested in the waitress, though, and he said he couldnt help me.
Josh had a thing for one of the strippers. After getting a Private Dance with the girl, he came back and professed, Im in love!
Whilst writing something down in my journal, he asked for a piece of paper, I obliged. On it, he wrote his name, number, and the message, Call me. Lets meet someplace outside of a strip club.
His writing, it looked like a childs handwriting. I could see a crayon in his hand, I was looking for the backwards S.
The main attraction of the night was a porn star who was voted top stripper in America or something. Whilst doing her show, the chick Josh was into went up, got naked, and the Main stripper went down on her.
After that, S turned around and said, You wanna recant that previous statement?
Josh, Hmm?
I said, Dude, she just had her pussy eaten up thereyou missed it.
Josh, What? I saw her going up there, but then shelikedisappeared or something. DamnitI feel like slitting my wrist.
Later she came up and asked J if he wanted to buy her a drink. Laughing and smiling, he bubble-gum tits out bouncing around. At this point, I was like, dude, lets bail.
And we left. Whilst leaving, Nice Guy apologized for what happened. I explained to him that it got way too aggressive and hostile there for a minute, he said that it was something that we doits a show, you know?
I nodded and asked, Next week?
Weekend after next, he said. Well come back week after next.
The strip club atmosphere, Id say, is like as if Las Vegas and Hell teamed up. There are all these lost souls, drinking and repressing sexual desires, aggression, hostility and built up violence waiting for any release. And rampant, unapologetic capitalismbuy this, support that, buy me, give me, fuck me. Giggle, giggle.
Too much macho shit, too much deception.
And I cant wait to go backyou know, to reevaluate my position.
Cognitive dissonance, youre nothing without it.
Boop.
I woke up today
to find myself in the other place
with a trail of footprints
from where I ran away
it seems everything I've heard
just might be true
and you know me
(well you think you do)
sometimes, I have everything - yet I wish I felt something
do you know how far this has gone?
just how damaged have I become?
when I think I can overcome
it runs even deeper
and in a dream I'm a different me
with a perfect you
we fit perfectly
and for once in my life I feel complete
and I still want to ruin it
afraid to look
as clear as day
this plan has long been underway
I hear them call
I cannot stay
the voice inviting me away
do you know how far this has gone?
just how damaged have I become?
when I think I can overcome
it runs even deeper
everything that matters is gone
all the hands of hope have withdrawn
could you try to help me hang on?
it runs...
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
hear these words and hede their caution. as a sailor and a female i can only tell you that being in an environment where women get paid to shove their crotch and tits in your face is only "fun" for so long before it becomes.....a little too surreal. but lecture aside, everyone enjoys a good night out with the ladies. hope you had some fun, and dooo take it what its for, good clean entertainment, (i just happen to know strippers have some of the cleanest body parts of all accessable womens).