Take advantage of me, dammit!

Oh, what a night. As I wrote yesterday, I was going to be spending the evening at a stripper retirement home. It was also the first time I would be seeing The Dark Horse since that nightmare of a morning just over a month ago. I didn't really think I was nervous about seeing him again until I met up with my roommate and a friend for drinks beforehand and they asked if I was nervous, since they were nervous for me. Thanks, guys.

I wasn't nervous, however, for three reasons:
1. I looked good. I even broke out the naughty boots, which I actually wear quite often, but they never fail. Black leather. Knee-high. Three-inch heel. Yowza.
2. My roommate and friend came along. That helped immensely.
3. I downed two vodka cranberries before we went.

Sure enough, when I saw The Dark Horse for the first time, things weren't awkward at all. It was part of the agreement that he was buying the drinks if I was showing up at a seedy place like that, so he immediately went to get me another vodka cranberry. It was served in a plastic cup. Classy.

I discovered that it would be entirely possible to go there and dance and never notice that there are strippers on the bar, but once you notice them, you can't help but stare. I quickly realized that if I worked there, I would be the hottest stripper in the joint. The first woman I saw had both a stomach and a vagina pooch. How it is possible to have a saggy vagina, I have no idea (apologies to anyone who is eating or has eaten anything in recent memory). Is this what the future holds? Another stripper was in her 60s. Seriously. I was waiting in line for the bathroom while she was in there, and she told anyone who would listen that she is 62. Wearing a Minnie Mouse costume. And the kicker: a woman with boobs to her belly button crushed a beer can between her boobs, then autographed it for one of the Dark Horses' friends. She crushed a can with her boobs! I wonder if I could do that...

At some point, the Dark Horse bought me another vodka cranberry-a mistake- and told me that I looked fantastic. (Mission: Accomplished) It was at about that point that I started to come on to the Dark Horse. HARD. It wasn't like that wasn't planned or anything, I had shaved my legs for the occasion, but the problem was that I actually told him that I had shaved my legs. He got the message loud and clear, and he was definitely interested. Problem was, he was worried about taking advantage of me. When my roommate left, I told him he had to walk me home, and he said that that was probably not a good idea.

He eventually succumbed to walking me home however, as I certainly shouldn't have been walking, completely hammered, at that time and place. (I mean, I live a block from this seedy strip joint.) On the way home, he told me that he is taking a break from the entire dating scene indefinitely, since he figured if he couldn't pull it together emotionally for me, then he wouldn't be able to pull it together for anyone else. I was extremely satisfied with this discovery.

When we got to my place, I walked up the stairs and realized he wasn't behind me. He was still standing on the sidewalk. "Aren't you coming up?" I asked. "Nope." So I walked back down to the sidewalk where he told me he didn't want to take advantage of me, no matter how many times I told him I wanted to be taken advantage of. Bah! Why can't I find scummier men who want to take advantage of me?

The conversation progressed into our future in booty calls, with the consensus that we are both game. He said he would remember that. He left. I went upstairs and drunk emailed Fenella.

It appears that I should be having a shitload of regrets and embarrassment this morning, but now he knows I'm game. And no, I don't have delusions of us getting back together. I'm not interested in an actual relationship with him. Too much baggage. Not enough devotion to yours truly. I'm over it, but a girl gets a craving for pistachio ice cream every now and then. (The good kind, of course.)