Story of My Life

In case you hadn't noticed, I'm something of a social misfit. (With a webpage? Who'd of thunk it?) In highschool I didn't really date much. If by "much" I mean "at all". It wasn't something nerds did, you know. When I was a junior I started getting a bit more social, talking to people outside my D&D group and going to a few parties and school dances. At my first high school dance, almost all the songs I was on the floor during were jump arounders or head-banging marathons. However, at one point one of the songs I liked ended-

-and a slow number started up. Somehow I happened to be standing next to the hottest girl in the school and we started slow-dancing. Now, I know things like "the hottest girl in the school" are usually hyperbole, but I'm serious. I've known many women who I was more attracted to than this particular girl, but she most fit the standard American perception of what HOT meant. If I've ever met someone who could have become a model, this was her. Anyway, we were slow-dancing. With me doing that awkward, this is really cool but I'm not entirely comfortable with it or entirely sure what's going on dance. Why was she dancing with me? Was it just because I was standing nearby and it's a dance, I mean that's what you do at a dance, right, dancing?

Then she starts stroking my hair.
Awesome. My hair is probably my best attribute, and when I was in highschool it definately was (no competition). I knew that this was something that set me apart from other guys, and that there were some girls who really liked boys with long hair. Absolutely amazing, she's running her fingers through my hair and leans in really close to me. We're dancing cheek to cheek and I'm feeling like I can die happy when she puts her lips up to my ear and whispers "What kind of shampoo do you use? I wish I could get my hair like this."

And that was the first time what I hoped was flirtation turned into a discussion of hair-care. Depressing, but at least it made everything make more sense.

FAST FORWARD

Last night I went to a strip club for the first time. A bunch of people from work were going and I figured I'd join the party. For some reason everyone who was around for the planning of this trip was stunned that I'd never been to a strip club before. I don't know if I seem like a really lonely sort of guy or if that's just something most people do once for the hell of it. It's just never been my thing. Don't get me wrong, I approve of strip clubs in principle, mainly for the free-market economy contained therein. But that would be another discussion completely. I'd just rather date, and while I'm failing miserably at that it's not that fun to be reminded that there are beautiful women that I'm not allowed to touch.

Overall, it was a fun experience. I don't think it would have been nearly as enjoyable if not for the people I was there with, almost half of which were women and most of whom are just funny as hell. Anyway, I spent a decent amount of time at the beginning just watching everything, not being overly familiar with the ettiquette for this sort of situation. Eventually I saw a dancer that blew my mind and decided it was time to start participating more. If by "participating" I mean "spending money to have a hot chick grind her mostly naked body all over me." And I do. It was the first "Dollar Dance" of my life. The stripper, who if I may I remind you, I am paying to be sexy for me here on my lap for a little while, grabs the back of my head to rub it into her chest but then says "Oh, wow! Your hair is really soft!"

Thanks. That's great.