Like I planned I decided to give myself a trip to the strip club after two weeks away. There, one of my favorites, a woman whom I showed my manhood to, just happened to be there. She was flirty and fun and having a good time. After the one dance I got from her she invited me over to talk at the bar, then immediately talk outside because she wanted to smoke.
After hanging out for five minutes or so she invited me back inside. But I had other plans, I was already there for a half hour and, maybe most importantly, I had nothing else I think I could say to her. We had gone on swimmingly; pushing the conversation even further would have risked humiliation. So as long as I was outside, I decided to ask her if I could leave. She seemed fine with it.
What were my other plans? Go to the Italian restaurant, another place I haven't been to in a while, just because, or because I wanted to see SportsCenter highlights of the Timberwolves win tonight, which I attended and which ended their 16-game losing streak -- if they would've lost this, it would've been a franchise-longest. Yep, this is what I passed up talking to a stripper for.
Why the hell did I do that? It could've ended in disaster. But maybe we could've talked about something deeper, something that could've formed an unbreakable bond between us. Maybe we could've talked about me exposing myself to her, and she saying that not only did she not mind, but she actually liked it. Maybe we could've arranged some takeout. I don't know, all I know is the chance for me to engage with her more is gone, and with it all the possibilities.
Instead I didn't even get to see any SportsCenter highlights of the Wolves game and I ate a salad and soup that, turns out, I wasn't even hungry for. I like the place, but I have to stop going if I'm not hungry. Now I'm way too full, and I still haven't finished the Coke I took to go.
To take this full circle ... what the fuck was I thinking?
No comments:
Post a Comment