So She Was Peruvian
When the snow hit Saturday, my friend [who will remain nameless] and I decided to go to a strip club.
SIDE NOTE: Save all your feminism or that’s yucky or it’s degrading or how can you get enjoyment out of that comments for someone who fucking cares. My minor was Women Studies, I don’t want to hear it – I already have a degree in it.
Back to the story – our friend was a bouncer or security at this venue, and he and I first wanted to see what place would hire him and secondly just to see him at work, and when I walked in – I said, “So if I tore all the walls down, put a stage, a bar, some lights, and a pole in my living room – this is what my house would look like as a strip club. Good to know.” It was where cocaine and crystal meth addicts go to curl up on cold winter nights. The best part was that it looked like all the strippers brought their boyfriends to work with them, and my friend and I stayed for about an hour and then decided to find something a bit more upscale.
So we said our good-byes and went down the street, and then found something more our speed. More room, prettier girls, and the chairs were much more comfortable. I’m actually pretty picky about letting a stripper sit down next to me, but then my friend wasn’t. They talked and then I asked him – I think I recognize that girl on the stage. “How,” he asked.
FLASHBACK: About two months ago, he and I plus a couple more guys went to a club downtown – their idea in order to relax before the holiday break, and when I was there I had an hour conversation with a stripper who said her family was from South America [Peru]. We talked about writing, authors, and I was pretty intrigued by her. I left her a list of authors she should read and what she might want to check out if she ever wants to get published. No number on my part though.
”How,” he asked. I said, “Remember when I was talking to that stripper in Downtown about writing for about an hour?” He couldn’t believe it, and neither did I, so I went up to the stage and she danced for a dollar – the power of a dollar bill. It's stronger than cheese. And then I asked her and she, “That’s you?” We sat down and had another talk, but then it kind of got weird because she’s got to go out and make that money. This is her job and all. But like I said, it takes a lot for me to handle a woman just sitting down next to me, conversation moves me. It's my chicken soup for the soul, and I'll have to admit there's something strangely attractive about a woman that talks openly about sex. All the tough questions are already answered and there's nothing left on the table that's taboo.
The list of women that jotted down the other week was just kind of a refresher of what is out there, what I've seen, and I’m really now understanding the importance of good conversation. I’ll be honest – a pretty face catches my eye. It does for all men. It’s our vanity. We want a nice house that everybody wants. We want a nice car that everyone wants to drive. And we want a nice woman that everyone wants to fuck. We’re dogs like that – but the face, the figure, and the fanny can only hold a man’s attention span for so long [like that alliteration, I know you did]. But good conversation, good hard laughing, good communication – with girls and even with guys, that’s what made this past weekend great. I’ll embrace this for now, because 8 hours later I might need to choke a bitch for ruining my weekend buzz.
SIDE NOTE: Save all your feminism or that’s yucky or it’s degrading or how can you get enjoyment out of that comments for someone who fucking cares. My minor was Women Studies, I don’t want to hear it – I already have a degree in it.
Back to the story – our friend was a bouncer or security at this venue, and he and I first wanted to see what place would hire him and secondly just to see him at work, and when I walked in – I said, “So if I tore all the walls down, put a stage, a bar, some lights, and a pole in my living room – this is what my house would look like as a strip club. Good to know.” It was where cocaine and crystal meth addicts go to curl up on cold winter nights. The best part was that it looked like all the strippers brought their boyfriends to work with them, and my friend and I stayed for about an hour and then decided to find something a bit more upscale.
So we said our good-byes and went down the street, and then found something more our speed. More room, prettier girls, and the chairs were much more comfortable. I’m actually pretty picky about letting a stripper sit down next to me, but then my friend wasn’t. They talked and then I asked him – I think I recognize that girl on the stage. “How,” he asked.
FLASHBACK: About two months ago, he and I plus a couple more guys went to a club downtown – their idea in order to relax before the holiday break, and when I was there I had an hour conversation with a stripper who said her family was from South America [Peru]. We talked about writing, authors, and I was pretty intrigued by her. I left her a list of authors she should read and what she might want to check out if she ever wants to get published. No number on my part though.
”How,” he asked. I said, “Remember when I was talking to that stripper in Downtown about writing for about an hour?” He couldn’t believe it, and neither did I, so I went up to the stage and she danced for a dollar – the power of a dollar bill. It's stronger than cheese. And then I asked her and she, “That’s you?” We sat down and had another talk, but then it kind of got weird because she’s got to go out and make that money. This is her job and all. But like I said, it takes a lot for me to handle a woman just sitting down next to me, conversation moves me. It's my chicken soup for the soul, and I'll have to admit there's something strangely attractive about a woman that talks openly about sex. All the tough questions are already answered and there's nothing left on the table that's taboo.
The list of women that jotted down the other week was just kind of a refresher of what is out there, what I've seen, and I’m really now understanding the importance of good conversation. I’ll be honest – a pretty face catches my eye. It does for all men. It’s our vanity. We want a nice house that everybody wants. We want a nice car that everyone wants to drive. And we want a nice woman that everyone wants to fuck. We’re dogs like that – but the face, the figure, and the fanny can only hold a man’s attention span for so long [like that alliteration, I know you did]. But good conversation, good hard laughing, good communication – with girls and even with guys, that’s what made this past weekend great. I’ll embrace this for now, because 8 hours later I might need to choke a bitch for ruining my weekend buzz.
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