Hot female customer ruins my night
Book Guy
I write it like I mean it, but mostly they just want my money.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007 6:50 AM
OK, so I'm at a decent club here in New Orleans on a Monday night. The pickings are kind of slim -- about five dancers, three of them hot enough; and about fifteen customers -- but I'm taking the opportunity to chill out. No stress, low cost, decent treatment from the staff, whatever. My new Cavicchi pipe is going full-tilt with some Peterson's Luxury Blend, I have a nice big (free!) glass of ice-water. One of the nicer-looking dancers is at my table, so I'm considering getting a private lapper or just chatting while mildly stroking and fondling her on the main floor. You know, just a normal evening of debauchery. :)
Then in walk two dudes and a smokin'-hot woman. The dudes are clean-cut but not in an over-done way -- they're wearing Hawaiian shirts, jeans, nice shoes. They're about 35 years old. They have some hair gel, and their faces are obviously of the sort that would be "cute" to women, though there's nothing effeminate or poncy about them, to coin a term. And the woman who is with them, I swear to God, is Pamela Anderson. OK, I look a little more closely, try not to stare, and determine that it's just a stranger who LOOKS A LOT LIKE Pamela Anderson. All the GOOD parts of Pamela Anderson -- "California blonde" in the right manner, not too much make-up, kind of a sun-kissed day-at-the-beach look to her face, flimsy sun-dress, taut abs and smooth arms, nice legs, and her tits -- big, maybe fake -- FLOWED inside her dress. Like they were made of water.
Shazam. I loved her appearance. And she was a customer. The two dudes (I found out over the urinal) were from Philadelphia, she was one of them's girlfriend.
So, I suddenly got all depressed. My night was ruined. The hot chick is there with someone OTHER THAN ME and her very EXISTENCE points out that I am a Pathetic Loser who can't even get the hottest among a set of barely-above-average strippers to sit with me FOR MONEY. I had to leave, it hurt my ego so much. Crushed me, really.
Should hot women be denied entry to strip clubs so that I can maintain my sense of worth?
I regularly have this response, not just in strip clubs. When I see a super-hot woman whom I would wish to make into my girlfriend, I have such a let-down in the sense of comparison between her, whom I DO lust after, and all girlfriends and prostitutes whom I have ever had relations with, who I DON'T lust after as much. Such a let-down. I can't describe it better -- it's a plummetting feeling, like dropping at the top of a roller coaster before you get the "rush" of speeding downhill. It's a sadness, like thinking about an old family pet that's long since passed away. It's a turn to the stomach, like too much orange juice and black coffee the morning after a night of debauchery, before you've managed to get some Cocoa Puffs (or Saltines!) into your empty, groaning stomach.
Anyone else ever experience this? What's wrong with me? :(
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