All right, this shit is just pissing me off. I have a facebook friend whom I've never met in person, but we probably have a mutual friend in a Playboy Playmate and she posted a photo of herself biting into a fake penis and so I had to friend her (long story, too boring to blog).
She updated her status to say that she received disappointing news. I asked, "What, did you lose your job?" And suddenly, this person who I thought I knew to be a pretty cool, level-headed chick, just went off on me. "Why are you so obsessed with my job?" she wondered, "Really, be quiet about this!"
Whoa, another fucking blindside. Like The Asshole at work, all I did was ask a fucking question and this chick just goes nuts. So once again I have to fall on my sword just to fucking keep the peace and say "Sorry, sorry" even though I don't think I asked anything that was impolite. She accepted my apology, but warned me, sternly, like a schoolmarm, not to do that again. And like with The Asshole, I have no goddamn idea what was so wrong about what I said.
You know what? I'm tired of thinking that I said the wrong thing. Is it possible to tell someone he needs a few minutes to himself without flipping out? Does someone have to automatically get so defensive about speculating she lost a job, a job we had discussed at length and without any issues of privacy before? I seriously don't know what I have said these past, oh, four weeks that is frowned upon, I just don't. And yet I have to feel like I do just to get along with society.
These are the days where I just want to stay home and not leave my bed for, oh, the entire winter. It's so much easier to deal with people and civilization if you don't talk to them, you know? Shit, man, everybody at work was being kind of pissy. Why should I even make a living if I have to deal with other people's bullshit? And why do I have to worry about pissing people off at all? I WAS JUST ASKING A FUCKING QUESTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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And by the way, if she felt I was being rude for intruding on her privacy, I would suggest that she should not post pics to Facebook every five fuckin' minutes. Seriously, half of my timeline is her sharing (or dare I say oversharing) mundane photos from her life. She uploads shots of the food she's eating, takes selfies thrice a day, and even poses in a bikini for me and her friends. (BTW, she looks really good for her fifties -- quite fuckable, but she's got a husband/boyfriend, and even if she didn't, she probably wouldn't fuck me after my oh-so-deplorable question.) All she does is dish about her life, and yet when I ask her about her life, she snaps at me. What the fuck? Hypocrisy much??
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Thinking about the interactions I had Monday I think I stumbled upon an epiphany: This is why I like strippers. When you're talking to women who are naked, there really aren't layers (figuratively as well as literally) of discretion you have to worry about intruding upon. Just about everything is fair game; you can talk about anything, ask just about anything, and be yourself, so let your freak flag fly. After all, you're at a place where women are whipping their tits out. Normal bonds of society stay outside the strip club door.
What happened a month ago and just now online reinforces how at home I feel at a stripclub. I can be myself in a strip club. More importantly, I don't have to worry about offending anyone at a strip club. I am in my natural state in a strip club. I am at my happiest and safest in a strip club. Hell, other people are happy at a strip club, too; Sunday after the game I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version) and a guy, just hanging about by himself but having such a good time that he was cheering the strippers onstage from the far end of the bar, bought a drink for me. (It was a Grape Ape, and I don't know what that is, but it was good, even though it looked and tasted like the congestion medicine I had to take for years as a child.) See, I didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing to this guy, because it was all good to him.
Maybe I should wrap myself in the secure cocoon of a strip club more often. Seems like what I'm going through lately justifies that notion.
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