Dead on a Wednesday evening

I paid ten bucks cover after the girl at the door assured me they had plenty of dancers working inside. I believed her because the parking lot had many cars and I saw several girls hanging out by the front and side of the building. I only asked because I'd just left another club that was pretty slow and only had a handful of dancers.

Imagine my surprise when I walked in to find a nearly empty club and one ugly dancer with pancake tits flapping around the stage. What a ripoff. I walked in and had to go down a few steps to get to the main area in front of the main stage with two poles on it. I found a seat in one of their sketchy looking chairs. The upholstery looked like it was new in the eighties and hadn't been cleaned since. A waitress rapidly approached and I ordered a drink, but left long before it showed up. There were four other guys in seats in the area in front of the stage and nary a dancer in sight besides the one on stage I'd rate a 2 on a scale of 1-10. She'd have to gain fifty pounds to achieve a one, but skinny and ugly is barely a step up from fat and ugly.

Don't get me wrong, I'm an old, bald, chubby guy. I have no delusions of being God's gift to anyone. But I decided long ago to never pay for a dance from a girl I'd be embarrassed to be seen in public with. It's a standard that's served me well. Until I win it big in the lottery, I need to use my limited funds for the girls that would be embarrassed to be seen with me. That's why I'm paying them.