Mired in Overthinkistan: Mindfuck, or am I “That Guy”?
I’ve decided to basically cut out mongering in my hometown area, especially during the workday when most of it usually happened and when I had the opportunity. This ends a couple of “regular” relationships, one of which has gone on for nearly three years. The dancer is phenomenal in all respects: looks, personality, intelligence, ambition, and VIP performance. A very decent person. I didn’t want to just ghost her (she usually texted if she didn’t hear from me in a week) or just respond by test that I wouldn’t be seeing her any more.
So I came in to see her and we went to our usual VIP room so we could talk in private. Depending on what went down, I was prepared to get up and leave after what could have been a five minute conversation. I gave her my spiel, which was larded with a bit of BS (she’s smart enough to pick up on BS, unfortunately). Got done, and she leaned into me and smiled and said that she had planned to tell me that she was going to stop dancing. Gave a couple reasons why that supposedly made sense, including that she was usually not coming into work unless she knew I was going to be there, and I wasn’t coming in as often (that was true).
Could be a “You didn’t fire me, I quit” rejoinder. Uncharacteristic, but possible. She was sweet as pie and, at her initiative, we had a full, one-hour VIP that was as good as or better than any of our dozens that had preceded it.
Then it struck me that I could actually have been this dancer’s major financial patron, or at least one of them, which wasn’t a happy thought. Three years ago, I was really just getting my feet wet in the “extras” game, had no sense of market value, and imagined that women expected a lot more money than many of them do for doing the things I want to do with them. She gratefully accepted my first proffered tip, which I selected without negotiation, and never asked for more on future visits, another sign I was over market price. And I know that she did establish her schedule around my availability, at least to some extent.
Anyway, I didn’t want to do it, but knew I had to do it, and I’m glad it’s done.
So I came in to see her and we went to our usual VIP room so we could talk in private. Depending on what went down, I was prepared to get up and leave after what could have been a five minute conversation. I gave her my spiel, which was larded with a bit of BS (she’s smart enough to pick up on BS, unfortunately). Got done, and she leaned into me and smiled and said that she had planned to tell me that she was going to stop dancing. Gave a couple reasons why that supposedly made sense, including that she was usually not coming into work unless she knew I was going to be there, and I wasn’t coming in as often (that was true).
Could be a “You didn’t fire me, I quit” rejoinder. Uncharacteristic, but possible. She was sweet as pie and, at her initiative, we had a full, one-hour VIP that was as good as or better than any of our dozens that had preceded it.
Then it struck me that I could actually have been this dancer’s major financial patron, or at least one of them, which wasn’t a happy thought. Three years ago, I was really just getting my feet wet in the “extras” game, had no sense of market value, and imagined that women expected a lot more money than many of them do for doing the things I want to do with them. She gratefully accepted my first proffered tip, which I selected without negotiation, and never asked for more on future visits, another sign I was over market price. And I know that she did establish her schedule around my availability, at least to some extent.
Anyway, I didn’t want to do it, but knew I had to do it, and I’m glad it’s done.
Got something to say?
Start your own discussion
10 comments
I tend to binge if I'm not careful. The kind of over-consumption where, when sustained, turns even big wins into big losses.
Now I just live vicariously through PM's and reading crap posted online.
Think my mind knows I need to do. Body just hasn't caught up, yet.
Again, grats.
It seems that she really wasn't into dancing in general. She seems to have enjoyed your company, and the ease at which she could generate income from you, meaning she was comfortable with you. For her, having to hustle/grind with guys with whom there was less chemistry is a grueling activity which drains her energy.
I would view it, for both of you, as an experience which got you both through the past 3 years with good memories and goal-achievement (money for her, rocks-off for you, and companionship for perhaps both).
The good news is that you didn't get sucked deep into stripper rabbit-hole territory where your emotions got you locked into something that is no longer aligned with what you want to be doing.
As a rick, yours truly is one of the most intelligent beings on the whole frickin’ planet. Therefore, you might think that this rick is always overthinkin’ things. Not true. Just throw something out there and I can tell you whether I like it in a nanosecond. For example:
Kicking ass and takin’ names = excellent!
Takin’ ass and kickin’ names = the kind of shit Skifredo would do
Jack = good stuff
Stylin’ suits = good by definition. If they sucked they wouldn’t be stylin’
Tesla with rick mode autopilot = good shit
Tesla from the factory = needs autopilot reprogrammed to include rick mode
The System = most brilliant work since the frickin’ theory of general relativity (Einstein is an honorary rick, don’t ya know)
And - most important - sexy females = rick approved. ROAR!!!
Maybe you were paying above market, but so what? It sounds like you received a good ROI for it, including consistency and her willingness to accommodate your schedule. Those are rare commodities when dealing with strippers, who are transient and unreliable by nature.
Except the Tesla stuff, ugh. This rick ain't drivin' something that has to be plugged in first. Besides, they drive way too quiet - it's only sporting to give the other hairless apes a fighting chance when driving in rick mode. 😉