I'm In Love With A Stripper

Can I tell you about the weird couple weeks I've had? Ha ha ha...who am I kidding..of course I can tell you, you've already opened this post. In the last two weeks I have blacked out 2x, traveled to the deep south, had my wallet stolen, had my car sideswiped, had a panel fall off my car (surprisingly in no relation to the sideswipe action), fell in love, and became the stripper whisperer. Now this whirl wind of events created a chaotic few moments for me but I remained relatively positive throughout the entire thing, which is not usually how I handle things. In most cases, when something crumbles in my life...I shout it from the roof tops so people will think I have some street cred against my white middle class upbringing. Instead I took most of these things in stride and just tried to fix them...I mean I guess this is kind my "shouting it from the roof top" moment...whatever, suck it.

Alright...so lets get to the nitty gritty of it all. It's true, I fell in love last week with...with...a Stripper.

How does one fall in love with a stripper, one might ask. Well it all started with my Bocce team, (I'm aware of how ridiculous the sport is and even more ridiculous that I am on the team...) which consists of a bunch of gay men and straight women. We all went to a dinner party a couple weeks ago and decided we were going to go to Secrets, an gay all nude male strip club over by Nat's stadium, after our game one week. The last time I went to a strip club I was 18 and it was a seedy female strip club outside of DC. I, obviously, didn't have the best impression of strip clubs from this event and wasn't overly excited about this decision to go. However, I am nothing if not a team player (and you just don't say no to a bunch of queens).


Well, I forgot about all of this and last Wednesday I showed up to our bocce game in critter print shorts, flip flops, and a button down. (I never really understood how to dress for sports...). After the game was over we were all standing around discussing whether we were going to go to Secrets and finally someone made the executive decision we were going to go....and we all followed. The thing that made me feel kinda weird was one of my friends had his straight friend from CT visiting. (we shall call him Straight CT...clever, I know).  I just felt kinda bad for the dude that we were heading to this type of strip club...but I didn't voice any objections.

I kid you not, Secrets is in the middle of nowhere. It is about a 15minute walk from the stadium and it is next to a power plant...there is NOTHING else around it. When we were driving down the street towards it, I was convinced that this was some weird hazing event and some of the new gays were going to be left in the middle of nowhere to find our way back. They'd call the game "Follow the Rainbow" and whoever got home first was guaranteed a spot on our Fall bocce team. (Sooo...I have an active "expect the worst" imagination). We knew we were in the right place because the large black box of a building had the most massive rainbow flag plastered on the front that I had ever seen. (As if being a gay nude strip club wasn't flashy enough...we put our bat signal on the front of the building...like really?)

(We've ARRRRRRIVVVEED)

We arrived at 8:50pm and tried to get in...but the place didn't open until 9pm. WE WERE THE FIRST PEOPLE AT THE STRIP CLUB AND WE HAD TO WAIT OUTSIDE. I was almost completely sober and dressed like I belonged in a J Crew catalog (I am obviously being very generous to myself and my style here...its been a rough couple weeks, just let me have it)...not outside of a nudey bar in the middle of bumfuck DC. When the place finally opened I felt like the guy collecting our cover was looking at us like we were a bunch of his kids who just graduated high school. I bet he was thinking "Awww they just grow up so fast. I hope the real world treats them well." Except in this instance, the real world was dark and upstairs and full of naked men and alcohol. (soooo maybe he was right...)


Literally, as soon as we walked in the door of the bar there were 5 naked men dancing in various places of the bar. Now, I knew I was going to a strip club where the men were completely naked, but I thought there would be some show or they would take some clothing off. Nope, not here. You walk in and all they are wearing are a pair of shoes and socks for you to put money in. I was shocked and kept laughing out of awkwardness. I was laughing and covering my eyes and unsure how to handle this sober. Sooooo, I went to the bar immediately to order my signature gin and tonic (every proper lady has a signature drink...). When I turned around from ordering my drink I was accosted with one of the strippers junk inches from my face....and I gasped and clutched mah pearls.

(I meannnn....yeah basically what I did)

The stripper laughed hysterically at me and pulled away. He then decided to chat with me from his post at the bar. 

Stripper: So, I'm guessing this is your first time here?

Me: The last time I was at a strip club I was 18 and it was female strippers. It was just further confirmation that I am gay. 

Stripper: Yeah, you and some of your friends look lost. Plus...you arrived as soon as we opened. 

Me: I meannnn....not by choice! I was dragged. I don't know how this works. 

Stripper: It's fine...I like people who show up early. 

Me: Well...thats me? I like your boat shoes (I would notice the only piece of clothing he is wearing)

Stripper: Ahh I'm not supposed to be wearing these! I forgot my sneakers, don't judge me!

Me: Uhhh I was serious...I mean I'm wearing critter print, boat shoes are like shoe porn for me. 

Stripper: Haha...oh, well thanks. I'm jumping off but I'll be back...

I proceeded to drink copious amounts of gin and tonics while trying to awkwardly converse with my friends and not look at all of the flailing penises. It was a futile attempt because if you weren't looking at real life penises their were penises on all of the T.V.'s. Before I knew it, I turned around and there was my Stripper. (hehe, notice how he is "my" stripper now?) He was sort of dancing and looking over at me and laughing, because by this point I was attempting to dance with a couple of my friends. Which was sad since we were the only 10 people in the place. I decided to walk over to him and give him a dollar. 

Me: Hey, just wanted to give you this for being nice and loosening me up when I first walked in. 

Stripper: Do you wanna touch me?

Me: HA..what??...I...wait...no. What? Who...thats...I mean you're attractive..but..what?

Stripper: Don't you know the rules? Ohhh I guess you don't since you've never been here (no one ever said he was smart) When you give money you can touch one of us above the waist or below the knees. So do you wanna touch my chest?

Me: Oh, um I mean I don't want to objectify you. I mean, I know you are automatically being objectified because you are a stripper but I feel like that's not me. Other people can, I don't judge but I guess I feel like I want to know someone before I touch them. You seem very nice. There is nothing wrong with you, you are very attractive. I just respect your right not to be touched. So I think I will refrain. 

Stripper: Hahahha, thank you? That's really nice of you. 

Then he..he...leaned over and introduced himself to me. We stood there for the next 20min and he told me his life story. He told me about where he grew up, what he wanted to do with his life, why he was stripping, how many siblings he had, and finally what it was like being nude all the time. When I apologized for monopolizing his time he thanked me for listening to him and said he was happy to dance and talk to me. Every time he came out to do a set he would talk to me for a majority of it. 

On his third set of the evening he grabbed my hand and put it on his chest. 

Stripper: You know me now so you can touch me and be okay with it. I feel respected 

Me: *Blushing* Oh goodness, that, well., you have a nice...its...your body.

Stripper: Hahaha yes, that's my body...I can't give out my number but I can take numbers..

Me: Sure...I mean I don't expect you to call or text but I am flattered you want it. I mean, even if you just want to be friends...you aren't really my type because, well because you are white. But everyone needs a stripper friend, right?

Umm...WHAT??? Did I just say "Everyone needs a stripper friend" to a stripper who I just went all Oprah on? Does everyone really need a stripper friend? I tried to act cool as I analyzed the fuck out of that statement and began getting more and more embarrassed by telling him everyone needs a stripper friend. Finally I handed him my number and he held onto my hand for a moment. We had another moment before I have my friends come over and he dances for them. My Stripper wins over my friends, which I decided was a good sign if we were going to work out. (Because I am crazy and planned out how plausible it would be for me to date a stripper)

My signature drink had kicked in full force at this point and I begin talking to Straight CT.

Me: So how does it feel to be in a gay strip club looking at penises when you like vag?

(I am nothing if not forward when drunk...)

Straight CT: I mean...I didn't think my first strip club ever would be gay and full of men, but you guys are having a  good time. I can appreciate that these are good looking guys. 

Me: That is fairly cool of you. I saw you hitting on one of my girl friends earlier...tryna get at that?

Straight CT: I'm hoping to move to DC soon, so that would be sweet if I could set that up. 

Me: Adorbs. 

Straight CT then began dancing around like crazy and I realized he was the same level drunk as me. He started dancing provocatively with his gay friend who he came with. I thought nothing of it, I have a couple straight guy friends I dance dirty with just for fun...but I did take note of this. Then Straight CT began dancing with me and unbuttoning his shirt. Unlike the stripper, I guess I decided I didn't respect him because I just began touching his lovely body and dancing very closely. 

Then out of nowhere he takes his shirt off completely and wraps it around my neck and pulls me in close to dance. In an unusual burst of confidence I decide I am going to just go for it....I'm just gonna do it...I'm just going to...BAM, I kissed him. We began making out and dancing like maniacs before he pulled away. 

Straight CT: Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. You're a dude

Me: Yes, yes I am

Straight CT: You're a dude and we just kissed. I just kissed a dude

Me: Yes, yes you did, we did. 

Straight CT: I'm in my first strip club, its a gay one and I kissed a dude. Don't get me wrong you are a good kisser. But you're a dude. 

Me: Yup, I'm still a dude and we kissed. Did you want to go for it again?

Straight CT: Let's just dance and let me process?

Me: No skin off my back...

Well, his processing took 5 seconds before we were kissing and dancing again. After a bit we all decided to leave and I said goodbye to Stripper and Straight CT. 

The next day I was feeling rough and talking to my twin (She is literally the short, black, female version of me...SEPARATED AT BIRTH...sister from a different mister...and mother?) and I told her I didn't know if Stripper  would text me or call me and I was sad. She responded pretty flately

Twin: Well, he might not call or text because he saw you getting it with another guy. Might be a deterrent. 

And there you have it ladies and gents. I fell in love with a stripper and I macked it with a straight guy. As if my life couldn't get any weirder I take it one step further....on a Wednesday. 

Secrets: My new favorite place

Strippers: Everyone needs one...?

CT: A now significantly more interesting state

Fabulously Lost: Hot Mess

The one with the Halloween costumes

Halloween has always been a time of turmoil for me. I tend to over think and overanalyze everything I do and come up with the most dramatic ways things could possibly play out. For someone on the search for love, I end up running the other direction when it comes a-knockin' on my door. Halloween is usually when I begin to over analyze the holiday season.

The funny thing is that Fall/Winter is my favorite time of the year and, in all honesty, its not because of the amazing feeling of the holidays, the crisp weather, or the inevitable layered looks of Fall that are presented at the clothing stores. I love this time of year because it is when I sweat the least. THERE! I said it. Thats my not so dirty little secret. If you know me, which if you don't you are missing out, I sweat a lot. Not in the "Haha look at me, I sweat so much when I run. Isn't it great to release those toxins from your skin!" type of sweating....more like the "Oh my gawd. HOW the hell am I sweating? I am sitting in an ice box and I'm pretty sure hell has frozen over in this apt yet I am dripping, wtf" type of sweating. So when the weather changes and I no longer have to worry about looking like I took a shower by walking to my car, I'm a happy gal. Halloween always tends to be a day where a million people cram into a tiny space wearing lots of costumes (for the men, women are lucky and get to wear their underwear out) and I end up sweating like I'm in the middle of the Sahara desert.

Anywhoz, back in 2010 I dated (and by dated I mean, I went on two dates over the course of a month and I contemplated telling everyone we were boyfriends because I am a little bit off my rocker)  a gentleman who was a bit older than me to see if the older men would treat a young strapping fellow with the respect and attention he deserved (or at least see if I could get a few free dinners). He wasn't a cougar on the prowl, he was 29 and I was 22, which in my head seemed normal. The only way I would date someone who wasn't in their 20s would be if they looked like an adonis or if they had lots of money. (Hey...everyone has their price. You really think Julia Roberts was in love with Richard Gere in Pretty Woman? I'd be in love with a hunk-a-hunk-a burnin' love like that if he was throwing money at me all willy nilly. Yup, I'd be a hooker for him)

Cahmmmm ahnn...I woulda kissed him on the first go around too....take that Julia Roberts

 Welp Grandpa and I hit it off on our first date when we went for dinner to UNOs. (Not where I thought I'd go on a first date with my future husband, but HEY beggars cant be choosers) He let me talk about me and asked questions about my life and where I was going with life. He asked about my friends and my family and college. I couldn't have been happier. We left our date with a kiss goodbye and a promise of a meeting in a couple weekends. He was busy the weekend after, something about having to watch after something or other. I couldn't really remember because I didn't pry.

Grandpa and I texted on and off and talked on the phone a good amount. The weekend after he disappeared and I didn't hear from him until Monday evening. He said he didn't want to be attached to his phone and he was taking care of things over the weekend but wanted to see me on Friday. We decided to see a movie and we were going to meet at the Columbia Mall. I couldn't be more excited! This was the first time I was knowingly dating someone who was a good deal older than me, and it was socially acceptable! (there was a time when I was 15 that that wasn't the case...but thats not here nor there. Well it might be there later when I tell you about it. Don't worry...plenty of time to judge me later.)


I realized before the date that I knew next to nothing about Grandpa, we had barely touched on his life. It had never been more readily apparent how much I like talking about myself. When you get me going, I will find any reason to over share and give you my life story. Now I'm not saying I'm vain...but I definitely would think this song is about me

I made a blood pact with myself that I would be a better listener and find out more about who Grandpa reallllly was. I made sure we had time to get coffee before our movie that friday and I came prepared (I had practiced my listening, surprised, and concerned faces in the mirror. I also wish I was kidding about that but I am not. I blame America's Next Top Model and Tyra for aiding in my yearning to look in a mirror) Our convo went a little like this: 

Me: So, tell me about you. Who is the real Grandpa? (I apparently felt I was Barbara Walters)

Grandpa: Uhh I'm 29...half black...live in Ellicott City? What do you wanna know?

Me: Thats interesting. Tell me more about your background. Are you close with your parents?

Grandpa: As of now yes...but I don't know how they will feel when I come out to them. They might kick me out.

PUMP THE BREAKS! Jigga whaaat? You haven't told your parents you are gay yet? You are 29 and in the closet? I like to think I came out when I was 16, but we all know I came out of the womb with a pink boa as an umbilical cord and instead of a placenta, glitter was shot out. I made quite the entrance, so when someone is substantially older than me and they haven't come out I am always mind boggled.  Also not to mention...you'd get kicked out? I was  making moves to move out of my parents house at that point, but I had also just graduated college. Ok ok...I need to wipe the shocked look off my face, I hadn't practiced that...I was going rogue on Tyra. Reign it in and ask more questions.

Me: What an interesting character. So you haven't told your parents? Do you live with them?

Grandpa: Nah, I live in a house they own. And I just came out about 6 months ago

Me: Thats so brave of you, coming out can be hard. I hope its been a fairly easy process for you

Grandpa: Well it wasn't easy at first and I wanted to wait until the divorce was finalized. I had been married for 7 years so I wanted give to my ex-wife a little time to get used to everything. 

So remember when I pumped the breaks before? WELP I slammed on those bitches and tried to jump out of the car. Now I am no expert at dating, obviously, but I also think you should mention to someone that you are dating (shut up...I know this was date two and we weren't engaged yet) that you have an ex-wife , of 7 years. Also remember that time that is a major thing and at 22 years old my most major issues were usually where I was going to get trashed and where I was going to sleep (Surprisingly not much changes from 22 to 23, except there is more guilt. Damn you Jewish heritage) not who my future husbands ex-wives were. Lets see where this goes, shall we?

Me: Um...married? Thats dramatic.

Grandpa: More factual than dramatic. Does that scare you away?

Me: Pffft...hrmpf...gahhh. BAHAHA

Grandpa: Err...that was just some noises and some laughter. 

Me: Hehehe wahhh? Prumph!

Grandpa: I think we should change the subject? What are you doing for Halloween?

Me: *relieved* Ohhh I'm going to be a guido! What about you?

Grandpa: Oh I have my kids for halloween, so I'm going to take the three of them Trick or Treating! They are going as characters from some of the Disney movies

Remember when I was dating this guy? Yup, my pretty picture was shattering. How do you casually bring up the fact that you have THREE children moments after you bring up a divorce. Its a telling sign of how a relationship will go when they say disney costumes and they think of their kids and you think of how your pale white friend should be slutty Ariel  instead of slutty Jasmine, because its more believable. 

The date continued to get more awkward because I was now using my faces I had practiced and was extremely convincing, so he continued to tell me more and more about his kids. Including that the oldest one is almost 12 years old. LETS state some facts here here

Grandpa= 29 years old

Me= 22 years old (at the time)

Child of the gay= 12 years old  

For some reason being smack dab in the middle of your child and you in age doesn't make me feel better about dating you. Instead I felt icky....thats like when Bruce Willis married a girl 5years older than his daughter. I cant...I just can't. We awkwardly went to the movie and I think he knew at the end of everything that I would probs be a better babysitter than a boyfriend...

After I had forgotten about this blip of a relationship, last summer I ran into Grandpa at the gay club and decided drunkenly to dance with him. I often have my drunk confidence on and feel like I am Shakira circa 2001

I was GETTIN' IT and Grandpa was feelin' it and I wasn't remembering that he had a kid who was now close to tweendom at home. We started mackin' it like two teenage kids who had just discovered that lips were meant for more than eating and talking(because I am nothing if not a classy lady when I am shaking it like there is no tomorrow on the sweaty dance floor) It was then that a swarm of women, who secretly wish they were gay men, descended upon us like Birds. As they began to make a circle, I thought it was time to dip it even lower since we had an audience now. One of the women screeched, as I almost toppled over...very un-Shakira like,  "Ummm Grandpa what do you think your boyfriend would think of you dancing on this ho"

AWWWW helllz NAW. 

I stood up straight. Looked her in the eyes and told her that this  candy shop was closed. (wish I was kidding...but that seemed like a good line at the time. In retrospect calling myself a candy shop makes me sound like a whore....shut up)  I walked off with my head held high and my pants dipping far to low. 

Internet Dating: 7

Fabulously Lost: 0

Shakira: Great drunk inspiration 

Dignity: Lost and found of most gay clubs at this point