Just to study this fucker I sat close by. He drank his can of Michelob Golden Light with anger, slamming it down after taking every forceful gulp. Later he went up to another girl and I could overhear him pushing her around, saying, "So, you wanna dance or what?" Temper, temper, asshole. He was a short, stubby dude with khaki shorts that his polo was tucked into -- in other words, not a gentleman, and not I've ever seen before.
I was going to take back his seat after he got this second dance, but then a group of bikers took over his seat, and mine. I would like to think he would have gone back over there but was afraid of the bikers, and that's why he left. But I'm not sure. Maybe he took out his frustrations to the point where he'll never set foot in there ever again.
---
The other person is way more problematic. It's the fucking waitress. She moonlights as a stripper, and I've complained about her because she is one of those five-dollar bitches who would bankrupt me if I kept that up. I don't know what was going on yesterday; we didn't talk, we kind of just ran into each other a couple times. But it was hot, and this guy was pissing me off, so I wanted a drink.
After I was there a while, I did what I rarely do, call her over and order a drink. But she just lashed out at me -- "Go to the bar!" What? Why was she acting all rude? Sure, I didn't tip her or get a dance from her, ever. But I thought she was cool nonetheless. We would talk sports from time to time, and a couple weeks ago she fed me snacks. Why was she so angry with me?
She got me my drink anyway. I apologized for pissing on her corn flakes, whenever that was, because I need to continue to come back here. And then she basically called me out: "You don't get dances and you just watch sports. It's called a sports bar. Look into it."
Well, I was just shocked. And hurt, too. And it exposed my worst fears of being a patron of this place. I may be the only person who still tips two bucks. I believe that was the norm when I first came, but that was a long time ago. I've had more and more strippers tell me they only dance for five, many more of them new. If the new strippers demand five while the veterans who gladly accept two continue to die off, I'll be priced out of this place.
This also makes me very self-conscious. I consider this bar to be My Home Away From Home, but I'm not like any of the people there. I think my repeated visits have made me some sort of a regular, but when it comes to tenure and popularity, I take a back seat to a lot of people. So I'm under no illusion that the owner or the manager or a bouncer -- or a bitch waitress -- will suddenly decide to have me thrown out for being cheap, or just making shit up about touching the dancer or making trouble or something. That would suck, but that is legal, and very possible. Hope to God that doesn't happen.
Her allegations are at least unfair, and at most untrue. I don't understand why she came down on me like that. Yeah, there are women I don't give money to. They have their standards, and I have mine, and they don't mesh. It's not like I'm personally killing their business; all of them manage to get
I'm sidetracking myself here. I don't make it rain every time I go there because it's a special place. It is a bar, and I can just go there to drink and relax, and that's it. And sometimes I do get dances -- not all the time, but some of the time, and I'm damn sure she's seem me get a few, so when she said I never get dances, that's an a goddamn lie. Also, do you know what she's not saying? Most of the other people there are just going there to drink and to relax, and they don't get dances. In fact, most of them don't tip at all. I'll bet 90% of the people at the bar have spent less money on dances -- spent money, period -- than I have. That should mean something. That should get me some modicum of respect. And what makes me furious -- and what hurts me -- is that some bitch has decided I'm not welcome there because of what I think I do.
Look. Until someone higher than her tells me I'm no longer welcome, throws me out and tells me never to come back, I'll just believe what she accuses me of doing or not doing is simply not true. And it's not.
Nevertheless, I'm scared enough not to go there for now. See, I was just going to dink around the north metro, exercise and putting in the daily entry for WAF. But then I saw that it was #NationalIceCreamDay. I thought we already had one this year. Anyway, I did think about going to Dairy Queen before I heard it was #NICD, but for a special holiday like this one I should go to a proprietor that elevates ice cream to an art form. So I think I'll drive a ways to Uptown and hit one of the ice cream shops there. But that means that My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) is on the way home. My pride tells me to march back in there, pay two bucks per stripper and watch sports, just to piss her off. But that might escalate things to a point that I wouldn't be able to control. So, even though I don't want to, and I really feel that doing so is a sign of emasculation and defeat, I'm just going to drive by. I might stay away for a week or so. Maybe that'll cool things off. Or, it may be their chance to keep me out for good.
Why do I have to fight to come here? What the fuck did I do?
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