In love with a stripper

I had a crazy eventful day yesterday.  It started with a wholesome Boston bucket list of famous landmarks, contained a whole lot of naked ladies, and ended in bed with a blast from the past.  WTF? is right.

My good coworker friend, K$ (that's K-money, not K-dollar, fools) is moving in May.  In preparation for that, she's come up with things to do in Boston before she leaves.  Me being awesome, I'm totally down with accompanying her on this list.  First stop, Boston Public Library, a beautiful building built on what was essentially a landfill of Back Bay, makes one think: they just don't make them like they used to.  Right outside we take pictures of ourselves crossing the finish line of tomorrow's Boston Marathon.  I promise this will be as close to finishing a marathon as I'll ever get.  Next, a psychic reading on Tremont Street (more on that later) followed by a canolli at Mike's Pastry in the North End (it's heaven in a shell).  A tour of the USS Constitution 'Old Ironsides', where I see the sign "Please do not handle the canon balls" a little too late.  We walk up the hill to the Bunker Hill Monument and climb all 294 spiraling steps to the top in order to fight people off and be able to see the whole city from a tiny little window.  The flight down is dizzying on shaky legs but damn are we proud of ourselves.  At this point I leave K$ and our day of wholesome Boston fun, and then I went to a stip club.

I met up with Hanging Out Guy (a former, um, flame, I guess you could say, that I met in a bar  a couple years back, better off as friends), who was in town with a ton of his high school friends for a ball game (which they actually won!).   I met them while they were finishing dinner and talking of going to a prominent strip club in the city, Centerfolds.  Now, don't ask me how, but I knew where Centerfolds was, and I knew how to get there (they were going to take a cab, psshht).  I was really just planning on escorting them there and leaving them to it, but they paid my cover, so um, yeah I was going to go in.  When else would I be able to cross Centerfolds off my Boston bucket list?  Inside there was a small stage with a pole, a balcony, and a semi-private room where the dancers led men by the hand for a lap dance.  Of course we couldn't sit at one of the tables, we had to sit up and center where I could literally place my dollar bills on the stage.  I could also literally see vaginas, this place was full on nudity.  For three songs per stripper, we saw several girls.  Destiny, Dynasty and Lola to name a few. Once I got over the whole, there's-a-naked-woman-dancing-in-front-of-me-and-wow-that-piercing-must-have-hurt feeling and the what-kind-of-father-figure-must-you-have? question, I honestly had a good time.  Not going to lie, I threw a couple dollars, when they deserved it.  The athleticism of some of these girls is impressive!  I even cheered for one girl in particular.  If you can climb a two story pole using only your arms and then drop down it into a split, then yes, you do deserve a dollar.

Most interesting to watch was the clientele.  I know, men don't go there to be watched but holy crap was that interesting.  From the glazed over/Utopia look the guys across from us had, to the downright giddy look of one of the girlfriends that was with us.  Some men were in groups wearing business suits, others sat alone, and others had reserved tables. Wedding rings were everywhere. The old guy next to me (not HOG) was by far the creepiest man alive.   He wasn't all interested until the thong came off, at which point he would lean and tilt to better see the business.  Then throw that dollar bill with purpose. So gross.

The guys with me were funny and encouraging to the dancers, and several of them noted how awesome I was.  (One of them gave a stripper a high five when she finished, I asked him how it felt, he made a face and wiped his hand on my sleeve). Hanging Out Guy in particular kept speaking of my awesomeness as he threw an arm over my shoulder and gave me slobbery drunken kisses on the cheek.  After we left the club (we had gotten there before 8 after all) he followed me to meet some of my other friends and came back to my house.  The problem with coming home with a drunk guy from a strip club, is that well, they're really horny.  That was quite apparent as a guy who usually takes no initiative, was on top of me as soon as I slid into bed.  Now I haven't fooled around with Hanging Out Guy for well over a year but one thing hasn't changed: he still doesn't know what the hell he is doing.  For realz.  This guy is basically only good for making out and cuddling with.  Not to say he doesn't try, but holy crap is he awful.  So awful in fact, that I drunkenly chose not to take things any further.  Yes, me.  A drunk girl who hasn't gotten laid in 2 months said "No" to sex.  He's that bad.  I feel awful saying it because he's a really sweet guy but I vow to never sleep with that kid again.  Oh well, at least his friends will think he got some.