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

Gay Mecca

You may be asking yourself where I have been over the last couple of weeks and why I haven't been as active. I wish I could say it was because I was on safari in Africa or because I was promoted to some amazing position and I had no time for silly things like this. In reality its because I moved home, had an existential crisis, went to San Francisco, and began working a horrific shift at work. Now this may sound depressing, but in actuality it...it...well, yes, it is kinda depressing but I am a fairly upbeat person, so I am looking at the silver lining, I am still single and ready to mingle! (this also sounds depressing...) So I can write about my love life for a little longer!

So I mentioned that I had the pleasure of going to San Francisco for a work trip a couple weeks ago, which also happened to be my first time in this Gay Mecca. To be honest I went into this expecting to see Rainbows on every street corner and for it to sound weird for people to go to "straight bars." I was surprised when I didn't find this upon entry of the city, but I did fall in love twice while on this 4 day trip. (I move quickly on the west coast apparently).

My co-worker and I flew out of Baltimore on the Thursday, which turned out to be one of the worst flights ever. We boarded Southwest, which is known for their friendly flight attendants and....and...welp, that's about all they are known for and that's all we got. We both checked in rather late for the flight, ensuring that we would be forced to awkwardly sit in the middle seat for our 6 hour flight to LA. As I got on the plane I prayed for a lone isle or window seat (I actually looked to the sky and asked little baby Jesus for this), but was unfortunate enough to sit next to two tragically awkward, but nice people.

As you all might have gathered in the past, I tend to have a fairly addictive personality and when I find something or someone I love, I generally cannot get enough of it. Several days prior to the trip I began reading The Hunger Games and decided this would be the best thing for me to focus on during my plane ride. (I was so torn...Team Peeta or Team Gale. I decided, since its a fantasy world, I will take both of them! Such a harlot). These two humans sitting on either side of me decided to overrule this plan and take turns talking my ear off. It was like Taxi Cab Confessionals except I couldn't jump out of the moving plane to stop listening. The gentleman in the isle seat was severely socially awkward and told me so (I felt like this was an awkward first date...that I couldn't escape)


Isle Geek: So...are planes your thing?
Me: Umm, I'm not really sure what you mean by that...but I do like flying.
Isle Geek: Oh cool...me too. I'm heading to San Jose for a computer science conference. 
Me: Cool, I am going to San Fran for a work conference. Is this for your job?
Isle Geek: Nope...I am just going to take notes on the public speaking so one day I can talk at these things. I suck at talking to people. 
Me: Well you aren't doing so bad talking to me.
Isle Geek: Cool. *silence for what seemed like an hour but was probably 30 seconds* Well I will think of more things to talk about, I think we have about 5hrs left. 


.....At this point my mind went into panic mode. Surely this man didn't want to talk for 5hours straight. I usually get sick of my closest friends after 2hrs. (if you are a close friend of mine...I didn't mean that. I have a gun pointed to my head?....you're pretty?...I take it back! ughhh) I kept looking down at The Hunger Games and it was teasing me with its strong black cover (we have discussed my affinity for all things black, mainly men) and its enticingly beautiful pages. This man was encroaching on my date with Peeta. (Rude!) I told him that I was going to try and catch some Zzz's and I immediately closed my eyes. Much to my dismay, I realized my evil plan was foiled because I wouldn't be able to read with my eyes closed. I sat there for a solid 20min listening to him talk over me to Window Woman. I slowly tried to insert my headset into my ears without the two them noticing, while my eyes were closed. Either they are as dense as I hoped they were, or they realized I wanted no part in their banter over their favorite Anime characters, because they left me alone for a good portion of the flight.

The connecting flight from LAX to San Francisco is where I fell in love for the first time. The plane was less crowded and I had an awesome window seat near the front. I was one of the first people on the plane and I almost immediately whipped out my book and began reading. As people boarded I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that a gentleman sat to my right in the isle seat. Luckily, we ended up not having anyone sit between us and could spread out a little more. Within moments this gentleman decided he wanted to talk to me....I was not pleased...until I realized he wanted to talk about The Hunger Games. When I looked up my eyes were met with a very handsome man!

Mystery Man and I completely hit it off and he made the flight go by rather fast. I stuttered several times because I apparently become a teenager when presented with fine specimens on a plane. We started talking about music and what we were into, who we listened to, what our current obsessions were. Then Mystery Man revealed that he was an artist himself coming back form recording in Nashville. (I blushed when he told me this. As if he had just complimented me. But he hadn't...all he did was tell me his job.) I was sitting next to the famous Youtube singer, Jeremy Passion. This dashing gentleman has an awesome sound and he ended up giving me his two CD's. (As a half-jew, he had me locked in when he offered me free things. I am a sucker for a deal. A deal and famous youtube personality, if we weren't on a plane I would of offered to drop trou) Unfortunately for me, in this one instance, the attractive man to my right happened to be straight. We had to part ways...but not before exchanging numbers and following each other on twitter. (It's not true love unless you follow each other on twitter. Facts of modern day love) 

The second time I fell in love in this Gay Mecca came the day after I had heart palpitations for Jeremy Passion. I was alone in this great city walking around and exploring. After I had decided I had seen enough, I made my way to the massive Westerfield mall across from my hotel for some retail therapy. I walked in and out of a few of my regular stores and then fell upon Lucky Brand. The men in the store were cute and as I circled, I realized I couldn't afford most of the things in the store. Not wanting to seem like just some joe-shmo from the East Coast, I ended up buying two $25 pairs of underwear. (It's at this point that I received the affirmation that it is extremely expensive to be gay.) I have no idea why I did this or why I felt the need to prove myself to these pretty gay men in the store, but I did and now I have some wonderfully comfortable underwear that cost me two days worth of food. Don't worry it gets worse.

For some reason, as I was walking out of the mall I was drawn to Kenneth Cole. It was like a magnetic pull, even though I knew nothing good would come from this little adventure. (and ohhhh was I right) As soon as I walked in I was greeted by most attractive sales person I had seen in a really long time, we shall call him KC Hottie (because I am 12 and spell hottie with an i-e, and if I were writing it on paper it would have a little heart for the dot). KC Hottie and I began making eye love (which is deeper than eye sex or eye fucking) and he followed me into a couple of the different areas of the store. He had this boyish smile and I was roped into every word he said. He was whispering sweet nothings like:

KC Hottie: Sooo have you been to Kenneth Cole before?

and

KC Hottie: Are you looking for anything particular? 

As you can see, it was love at first sight. We were meant to be together and all I had to do was pretend to be interested in buying something, for him to continue paying attention to me. (I have done wayyyy worse to keep a mans attention....shut up...this is a judgement free zone) He started asking me more personal questions like:

KC Hottie: So are you from out of town? *flashes a sheepish grin*
Me: *trying to be coy and cute* HAHAHA How did you know?? Is it that obvious?!?!
KC Hottie: Welll...*points at sweatshirt*...your sweatshirt does say MD
Me: *turning bright red* Oh. Yes yes I am from MD, this is my first time to San Fran. Is it your first time too?
KC Hottie: Haha *Grins again* No, I work here, but I am originally from Southern California. I like it better up here though
Me: I like it better up here now too. Uhhh...I mean...I've been to LA before...and I liked this better?

As you can see, we were destined to have small babies together and live a domestic lifestyle. (Or as Rick Santorum likes to call it, "the deathstyle". Bringing down heterosexual families, one gay family bbq at a time) We were close to the register when I picked up a random pair of jeans and decided I was going to buy them in order to redeem myself for the awkward nature of my initial conversation. I should have looked at the price tag, tried them on, and decided like a normal person if this was the most financially sound decision, considering I had just spent a portion of my retirement fund on underwear 30min earlier.

KC Hottie: Do you want to try those on? They are a great pair
Me: Haha nah, I know my size! I have gone shopping here before...
KC Hottie: Oh, I thought this was...nevermind *flashes huge grin and looks me dead in the eye* I am sure they will look great on you
Me: HAHAHA shoooj me too  
 (Yes I did actually make a sound that could be spelled "shooj", because when I really like someone I revert to animalistic sounds to communicate with them) 
KC Hottie: Would you like too...
Me: Yes I would
KC Hottie: Uh...I didn't finish the question, hahaha. Did you want to donate $10 to Haiti?
Me: Oh...yeah. I saw that when I came in. Of course I do...I love Haiti.

I want you to sit with that for a minute. I just cut him off during his sales pitch and then finished with "I love Haiti," as if this is a normal thing to say to people. (I wonder if he writes a blog about his love life and my nickname is Haiti Lover. ahhh I can only hope *swoon*)

KC Hottie: That's awesome *smiles with a glimmer in his eye* I love when someone seems passionate about things. Your total is $105.78
 Me: Well I hope these pants are magical.... *grudgingly hands over credit card and pays*
KC Hottie: What? Oh..er...yeah they are?  Have an awesome trip, and come back and visit me! 

Why yes, yes I did spend over a $100 on a pair of pants. No, no I don't have that kind of money to spend on jeans. I feel like this is almost how a person feels after they pay for sex. There is a little bit of buyers remorse, but at the same time the product makes you feel like a million dollars. KC Hottie will always be one of my fondest memories of San Fran, and when I go back...we will for sure get gay married.

Fabulously Lost: Broke, homeless, but stylish
San Francisco: Poppin' with hotties left and right
Prostitution: A constant theme in my blog, and possibly similar to buying expensive jeans
Southwest: Always the worst airplane to take to the west coast