Don't Fall In Love

It was only out of boredom that I went there. My fiancée and soon to be stepdaughter were out of town visiting relatives. I had the house to myself and after finishing some particularly grueling homework I decided I needed a break. Being unaccustomed to having run of the house I really wasn’t sure what to do. I tried playing some video games and watching some television. But I was in one of “those” moods. You know what I mean. That kind of hyper aware restlessness that makes you feel as though your bones are crawling out of your skin. I decided to take a trip on the wild side, something I have rarely ever done in my short time on this earth. With a clear purpose and a twinge of guilt I grabbed my keys and drove.1

As I arrived at the club the butterflies in my stomach went into overdrive. Even with the only people who would care miles away, I still felt as though eyes were watching me. I walked up to the front door, uncertain what I would find inside. The music began pulsing through my core. The man at the door looked at me as I am sure he has looked at countless other guys. To him I must have been just another pervert looking to get his rocks off. Of course my mind was already working on a retort. I may be some pervert, but he works here which makes him much worse. I calmed my nerves and told myself that he didn’t care, this was his livelihood. I paid my fee, walked through the turnstile and rounded the corner.2

My limited experience with strip clubs has given me some basic knowledge of what to expect. The movies portray them as dens of inequity, sleazy joints where drunken cops and social misfits hang out. On the contrary this place was fairly clean and low key. There were a few other men watching the dancers. I was hoping that going alone would not single me out as desperate, or weird. I was relieved to see other men sitting in solitude enjoying the undulations on stage. The first girl I saw dancing was a young black lady. As I watched her move to the music a hand touched my shoulder.3

“What can I get you sweetie?”4

A young lady, probably not older than 22 was staring at me. She was wearing a French maid outfit and while lovely, was not built like a dancer. 5

“Just a cherry coke please” I replied.6

I returned my gaze to the stage as the young black lady was making her exit. Her grace and fluid motion was replaced with an obvious urge to get dressed and get out of the public spotlight. My cherry coke arrived, as did the next entertainer. This one, whose name I could not hear over the horribly distorted DJ’s microphone was another lovely young woman. She began her set with the typical stripper song, talking about sex and money, etc. Halfway through she climbed the pole and got into some positions I though only possibly by an Olympic class gymnast. 7

Another hand brushed my shoulder.8

“You want a dance, hon?”9

I examined the young lady as a judicious shopper may eye a ripe melon. She wasn’t really my type, skinny to the point of being emaciated but she had a nice smile.10

“Sure”, I said trying my best to reach that careful mix of disinterest and readiness. I didn’t want to seem too eager and thus cement my reputation as a pervert.11

The lap dance wasn’t wholly memorable. It cost way too much, ended way too quick, and I left the booth with my primal urges somewhat satiated, but still the empty bored feeling remained. I returned to my seat, ordered a refill to my drink and continued to watch the show.12

Yet another hand touched my shoulder. This time it was a young Latina dancer in a very skimpy bikini. Her breasts were quite pronounced and I had seen her walking the floor chatting up the men. She pulled up a seat and tried to start a conversation.13

“You come here often.”14

“Actually, this is my first time”, I replied. I instantly regretted the honesty. 15

“So, what do you do”, she asked with all the enthusiasm of someone who does this a thousand times a day. 16

“I am in computers.” My little white lie surely wouldn’t be picked up on as I have had enough computer experience to hold my own in a conversation.17

“Really, sounds neat, so do you want to go in the back and have a dance?”18

“Not just yet.” I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Of course the irony of that is not lost on me. She dances for and propositions hundreds of guys a day, the idea that little old me would break her was quite laughable.19

“Ok hon, well I am just going to sit here a while and watch the girls. I really like to watch the girls”, she said as her hand found my knee and her inch long nails begin to delicately rub my leg.20

The next few girls came and went. This dancer and I spoke very briefly between sets.21

“Sorry I am so boring” I said attempting to strike up a conversation, “So, do you like your job?”22

“Oh, hon, you are fine. Yeah I like my job. I just went through a rough separation, so this helps pay the bills.” 23

With that sudden bit of honesty a thin layer of my cynicism evaporated. However she obviously felt uncomfortable making a connection with one of the guys who sit and gawk at her naked. She redoubled her efforts, breasts jutting in my face, practically ordering me to let her dance for me.24

I declined, despite wanting her to dance for me, because just beyond her I saw someone who I really wanted to have gyrate in my lap. She was tallish, blonde, thin, and very very plain. Not the plain that is a bad thing, she was the kind of plain that for a stripper is remarkable. She had no discernable tattoos, no belly piercings, and very little makeup. My big breasted compatriot finally got the hint that I wasn’t biting and decided to resume her rounds looking for her next dance. As I fixated on this plain girl, her eyes met mine and she walked over.25

“Would you like a dance sweetie?”26

“Not just yet, but please ask me again soon.”27

“Don’t worry, I’ll hit on you again real soon”, she replied. With a smile she walked toward the dressing room.28

I sat back in my seat as the latest dancer on the stage started putting on her clothes. 29

The DJ’s voice boomed over the music, “And now, here’s Franki”.30

The plain stripper emerged from the curtain and began her set. Her first song was fairly mellow and she moved with grace and elegance. Still fully clothed she didn’t just bare it all, she teased the audience. 31

Her second song began. And on cue her bikini top came off. I resumed my mental inventory of her plainness. No piercings, no tattoos, obvious fake breasts, but in that industry it is understandable. As she turned around to face my direction her eyes met mine and I knew I would have to ask her to dance.32

Following her song she emerged once again from backstage. She walked up to me and knelt down beside me. 33

“You look like you are ready for your dance”.34

“Sure, why not” I replied, glad she remembered to check on me.35

She led me back to the private booths and described the various options. I chose the medium package which allowed for ten minutes of dancing with some contact. However before beginning the dance I needed to visit the ATM.36

“Could you tell me where the cash machine is” I asked.37

“I’ll show you, I don’t want my manager thinking I am not doing anything.” She replied.38

She led me to the ATM where I inserted my card as she stood by. Prior to entering my PIN, I glanced at her. 39

“Don’t worry, I am just going to stand here and make a note of your PIN then while I am dancing I am going to steal your card. Go ahead.”40

I smiled. 41

“Oh really, well I appreciate your honesty.”42

And with that, the banter began. She asked me what I do and I resumed the persona of a computer guy. She smiled. 43

“Really, I am just a geek.”44

“Me too” she said.45

I gave her that look that she no doubt gets whenever she mentions her geek roots.46

“No really, what are you Mac or PC?”47

“Well, PC mostly, but I am open to Macs, now.”48

“Good, because I am thinking of getting an Iphone.”49

The conversation continued as she led me back to the booth. She explained the rules and suggested I take off my glasses.50

“You should remove any hard objects from your pants you don’t want me to rub, keys, etc.”51

I chuckled, removing my keys.52

“So let me guess, while you dance someone is going to steal my keys, make a copy of my truck key and return the ring so when I go to leave my truck has been robbed or stolen.” 53

“Now you got it”, she said with a smile.54

She began her dance. As she sat in my lap she resumed the conversation about computers. 55

“So what do you do in computers?”56

“Help desk stuff mostly”, my fib bolstered by the fact I used to be a help desk tech.57

“Really, that must be a frustrating job, even more than mine.”58

“I don’t know, at least there I can hang up on people.” 59

“Well I can mentally hang up”, she replied, turning to face me. “You seemed surprised when I said I was a geek too. I get that a lot.”60

“I can imagine. Most guys probably aren’t interested in talking tech.”61

“No, most guys are…hey, boobs.”62

“Not me”, I replied, “I am all about computers and boobs.”63

She smiled at me again, “I think being a geek is cool”64

Ordinarily if a stripper had said that while giving a lap dance I would cry foul and think she was just trying to extend the session, but there was something about her that rang true. The conversation continued, going in to her Xbox usage, her favorite web sites. She even mentioned a few web sites which I find myself shilling to people on a regular basis.65

While she was in my lap, back pressed to my chest, cheek to cheek, I must have shifted imperceptibly. She noticed though. I must have seemed at ease and relaxed. Instead of continuing the tech talk she whispered in my ear. 66

“Don’t go falling in love now.”67

My heart sank. Was that what was happening, was I letting my guard down too much? Could she see through me? I lifted my personal walls and barricades once again, smiled and tried to play it down. 68

With my face jammed into her cleavage I was able to mumble, “No, this is for entertainment purposes only.”69

She laughed, “Good, I am glad you understand that. A lot of guys don’t see it like that.”70

As she straddled me she resumed the light hearted geek speak. “Hey, I am so much of a geek I am even going to Comic Con this year”. 71

“I am finding this strangely erotic”, I said, not just talking about the dance.72

“You are very nice, I don’t find myself talking about geek stuff working here, most guys just want me to shut up and dance, but you are different.”73

“Well you know the geek shall inherit the earth.”74

She laughed, a good hearty, real, laugh. “I haven’t heard that one, I like it, I am going to have to steal it”75

“It is yours”, I said with a half smile, “don’t you go falling in love now” I added, hoping the joke would be taken as more banter and nothing more.76

I glanced over her shoulder and saw the green light turn red, signaling the end of the dance. She was on my lap facing me. 77

“I have some bad news for you” she said.78

“I know, time is up.”79

“How did you know”, she asked?80

“I saw the red light”, I replied.81

“Well, if I don’t turn around, my manager will think I didn’t see it yet, so I can give you a few extra minutes.”82

“Ok, very nice of you”, I said, overjoyed I would have a few extra minutes with this geeky goddess.83

But alas, the dance came to an end and I was led back to my seat. Having spent as much money and time as I wanted there I decided it was time to leave. The drive back to my house should have been enjoyable. I was just privy to some nice people, some good music, and some beautiful bodies, but instead I felt despair.84

Upon arriving home I sat down and thought about my experience. Where was this pain coming from? What was meant to be a quick diversion and a new experience was causing me to reconsider my entire life. I finally had to acknowledge the horrible ugly truth. I fell in love and my heart was broken, all in the span of five minutes. I broke the golden rule of attending a live adult show, I let my guard down. My mind was suddenly filled with what ifs. What if I had met her in a different venue? Would she even acknowledge me? Would we be friends? Could we have ever been lovers in another life? It is these questions which tore me up. After a few hours of pondering I was finally able to put the feeling to rest. After all, I have a fiancée who loves me and who I love more than anything. I have a family I am proud of, and a life which for all its ups and downs, is pretty good. 85

But the one thing I am missing, the one thing I would trade it all for, is that connection I shared for five minutes. And I do not mean the erotic connection of having a naked stranger gyrate on your lap. Or, even the connection of geeking out with a fellow nerd. Instead I had the connection of instant rapport with a beautiful woman who was witty, smart, and funny. And as much as I hate to think about it, and as much as I know this can’t possibly be true, I think she let her guard down too. I think I saw a stripper who shared the same morals, values and interests as I, and she saw a pervert who wasn’t grabby, rude, and who actually wanted to talk to her about things that interest her. For a few minutes we were friends. The sad truth which was causing my despair was that we were friends who will most likely never see or speak to each other ever again. I won’t go to the club looking for her; that would be pathetic and creepy. Instead I will look back fondly for the rest of my life on those few minutes. 86

When in a strip club the saying, don’t go falling in love, is sound advice. But, all in all, I am glad I did. But what relieves me even more is that I was able to fall out of love as quickly. My real life awaits and I will return to it with a new perspective on who I am and what it means to connect with people. And whenever I find myself wishing life were different, I will latch on to that experience and remember that things can change and entire relationships can be experienced, if only in the space of a lap dance.87