A Week in the Life of Gustavo

"Seems to think that if he fails to write, la migra will find him."--OC Weekly More merriment available at ronmaydon@yahoo.com

domingo, julho 20, 2003

Amor de mis Amores...

After the Reventon Super Estrella, JC takes me to Fritz That Too, a gentlemen's club in Anaheim that, according to the owner, is frequented by members of our hometown Mighty Ducks and Angels

Quick aside--my cousin used to work for the Angels and he told me disgraced first baseman Moo Vaughn (the spelling is not an error) would spend thousands every night on strippers. Should have used some of that cash to eat at Subway. Now, back to the disturbing anecdote.

So I received my first lap dance. The dancer was amongst the most beautiful women I've ever seen--tall, brownish skin, of German and Tawainese descent. She was super nice and we were having a good conversation about music until she finally said, "OK, it's time for your dance."

And so she did her thing, writhing around my body, touching my chest, all the things that go into a good, legal lap dance. And after a couple of minutes, it was over.

I won't lie--to be touched by someone else feels good. But I was also reminded why I'm so conservative in my mores (and before you go accusing me of hypocrisy or a loss of innocence, let me just say in my defense a lap dance isn't inherently wrong when you're single. And if it makes it any better, I spent the rest of the long evening with my arms crossed). The woman was so nice and perky when we were talking; when she commenced, she assumed a vacant look in her eyes.

I'm never getting another lap dance again. First off, strip bars are rather boring--I spent more time commenting on the men goggling the women than goggling the women myself. But if I get touched, I want it to come from someone who wants to touch me in a loving way. One of my exes once said I love like a woman. Screw her--few women love how I love anyways, let alone men. I love unconditionally, faithfully, forever, and all that mushy stuff. Is it any wonder I get hurt constantly.

But this is straying from the anecdote. After leaving the club--more than one stripper commented on my dour persona--we headed over to the Boogie, where the gyrations were even more obscene. One girl--she couldn't be older than 19--in particular had ass shorts, two lip stickers on each butt cheek, wore a mesh shirt with nothing underneath, and had stuffed into her shorts a vibrator that she invited others to fiddle with. And she was dancing on top of a bar with other girls--only girsl, of course.

I need to be married. I cannot take any more of mindless sex--and I don't even engage in it! Tierra de Fuego, here I come!

I finally got home around 3am. JC was a most gracious host and only reaffirmed my convictions. I shall never party with him again.

Saddest moment of the night--that beautiful woman who gave me the lap dance said she didn't like her job because she thought no one paid attention to her. My saviour instinct arose then was quickly quashed by her thigh.