A Good Start

I began my Valentine's Day this morning by having breakfast with three exotic dancers.

Now, if only that was actually as cool as the potential implications make it sound, I'd really be having a great day. Instead I'll be going to the Valentine's Day Massacre Ball this evening, an excuse to goth it up and hang out with the tragically heartbroken and depressingly rejected. Should be fun.

Back to breakfast, though. I don't know if you've ever hung out in a strip club after the music's stopped, the lights are on, the bouncer and bartender are mopping up, waiting for someone to finish changing clothes. It's fairly interesting, especially wondering moment to moment if you're about to get kicked out. This is a nice example of the power of simply acting like you belong wherever it is you are. And don't get in the way, either, but that's more to do with basic politeness.

Let's not forget what that wise little gray alien Rands has to say on these subjects, either. "It's a dark room, you're drunk, and she's a Stripper. In a room with regular lighting when you're sober, she's still a Stripper." Taking away the "Gentlemen's Club" magic of these fantasy girls and replacing it with the stark reality of a Perkins at 2:30 in the morning must surely leave something behind, but what? Did we find out that the stunning asian beauty who'd wink luridly at you from another guy's lap is really something of an overly-made up ditz who you'd need to go back to the bar a few more times before you'd consider kissing her?
Yep.
But then there's the reason I was even there. There's the girl who asked me to breakfast. If anything she was even more lovely without the cheesy stripclub glitz, wonderfully pretty as a real person. Now that's truly magical.

Oh, and the third dancer? I honestly can say that, with her coat on and her hair up in a ponytail, I couldn't actually recognize her. I know she was one of the dancers in the club, but not which one. There was no connection between the girl at the table and the girl on the stage.