Loss of Innocence

Friday I met up with My Friend, Slightly Mentally Retarded, but I'm bored of talking about him. No wait, I gotta mention one thing. At Memelis we were sitting around in a very crowded place, and he's got this look on his face, not just fury, but like disbelief too. I'm genuinly concerned at this point, or would be if I hadn't been sure it was about something retarded. I ask him what's the matter, and he looks at two people having a conversation directly behind him, close enough that if he turned his head fast he might hit them with it. Mind you, this is a bar/club where you can barely get to the bathroom without having intercourse it so crowded. He looks at me, fury and disbelief in his eyes, and snarls "I hate it when people fuck with me like that!"

Several of us went to the boat after that, an odd place. Usually is a normal enough bar, except that it's in a ship. It floats in the Dane River, dead center of old town. The clientele is more, rural, shall we say. Sometimes, though, they have strippers. Sometimes it;s a cross between the two. There's no discernable schedule that I can discern.

Anyway, there was a stripper that night. As we went in the owner greeted us and said "Ah, good evening, good timing! A stripper will dance in ten minutes!" So I placed us at the perfect table with myself on the floor side. Oooohhhh. I quickly established myself as the alpha male (I'm not sure how I do that, but sometimes it happens...well, I've got some idea) and she spent half of her dance time either looking directly at me or lapdancing on my lap (on the house).

Then we're leaving. Everybody is going different places, at lease I am, in a hurry to a club, cause it's already 2:30. Having paid, I stand up and leave, seeing everybody dilly-dallying.

I get almost to the club and My Friend, Slightly Mentally Retarded calls and says the stripper gave him her number to pass on to me. I think he's fucking with me (they all know and can't understand how anti-prostitute I am), but what can I do? I'm just cocky enough to believe she could easilly fallen in love with me.

So I wait. They catch up with me and give me a note. They all swear she caught up with them at the stairs and said "where'd your friend go?! please give this to him, I wanna meet him!" What could I do?

Aras: Hi, this is Aras. Well, you didn't get my name, of course, but my friends gave me you number and said you wanted me to call you.
Stripper: Yeah, Hi.
Aras: So...you really want to meet me?
Stripper: Yeah, where?
Aras: Uh...well...how about the green bridge? (I figure as long as it's outside I won't get trapped into anything, just in case she's a whore)
Stripper: well, I actually have to drive out someplace else first, so not unless later. (this was at 3 a.m.)
Aras: well, maybe tomorrow then.

The next day I realized what might have happened. Either my friends played a joke on me (as I'd suspected) and went to get the number, or else the waiter, having noticed my accent, pointed me out as a good mark. I know this or something like this happened, because I remembered putting on my coating, smiling at her, and her winking good bye. So she was ready for me to leave without her number, then something made her change her mind. Either the waiter or my friends.

The sad part was to find out she was a whore. What--a--buzz kill. I'm not sure why, but the smile of a stipper makes me wanna go dancing, while the smile of a whore makes me wanna go home. Maybe...I don't know. But after I grabbed her attention, been smiled at for a few minutes, I felt like a million bucks (I almost never go to a club so late at night). As soon as I found out she was a whore, I felt like zero bucks. Zero bucks and holes in my pockets, so even if I had a few bucks I'd lose them.