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Flashback: The Girl I Hate…

April 15, 2012

I’ve never liked strip clubs.  I’d like to own one, but it looks like a business move that’ll lose more money than it brings in.

Perhaps it’s because my strip club experience has been limited to strip clubs in South Jersey.  Still, I’ve never liked the idea of paying to be grinded on to simply be erect.  There’s unlimited access to the Internet and a numerous amount of porn for free.  And you get to release.

It was my birthday though, and the strip club around my way had been promoting “Foxy Boxing”.  I figure “You Only Live Once” (YOLO is the motto), and proceeded to pay the entrance fee.

I had been on a high; I had some new contacts, I met up with an old friend, I had improved my beats.  One of my boys took me out to eat.  All was pretty good.  Why not?

I sit down by the bar, by myself, checking out the scene.  It was pretty small for a strip club.  There hadn’t been any “Foxy Boxing” yet, and I was hoping I didn’t miss any.

A few of the girls came out to the pole and did sets.  One spoke briefly, and wished me a Happy Birthday.  One other came up, and started grinding on me.  I didn’t ask, didn’t say jack shit, until I couldn’t tip her anymore more.  My tip was about $3 though.  Being a broke student, that felt like I wasted $300.

Then “Foxy Boxing” ensued.  Using those rock ’em, sock ’em gloves (the round joints that look like pillows), two of the dancers went at it.  I wasn’t expecting Floyd Mayweather versus Manny Pacquiao, but I wasn’t expected to be bored out of my mind.  After the “match” (and I use that term loosely) ended, I saw something that made my stomach fall.

I saw my friend about to take the stage.

I had known her since high school.  Hell, longer than that, but my memory’s pretty fuzzy and I can’t remember much.

So, yeah, I knew her since high school.  She was real tight with my grandmother.  I saw her and copped a crush on her.

She had a boyfriend, yet it didn’t stop her from kissing me.  It didn’t stop her from asking me to junior prom.

She was cute though, and I was dumb young, and still thinking with my dick at the time.  So I overlooked that.  I overlooked her emotional problems.  I overlooked her diva attitude.

All I knew was she was cute, she liked me and she noticed my lone-samurai-having ass.  Plus, she showed me her breasts.  So yeah, couldn’t tell me much.

We went our separate ways, before meeting back a week before my birthday.  We were taking the same bus, the 502 (which I practically live in).

We talked about what was going on, I told her I made beats, she told me she was dating a dude that went to music engineering school.  I met up with her the next day, simply because I had to meet up with another beatmaker situated in Brigantine.  We hung out, before she had to go to sleep before going to work.

I may be a lot of things (naïve, stubborn, awkward), but unintelligent is not one of them.  I asked a few times where she worked at, and she would skirt around the question. 

She started work around 8pm or 9pm.  I’ve lived in the Egg Harbor Township/Mays Landing/Black Horse Pike area (and the 502 that travels on the Black Horse Pike) to know that most stores close at 9pm or 10pm.  So unless she was pulling out two-hour shifts, I doubt she was working at any of the stores in the vicinity.

The only area left where a cute woman would be starting work at 8pm or 9pm was the strip club around my way.  Of course, I didn’t want to believe it.  Hell, I was hoping I was wrong.

But I was right, and there was my friend, in living color.  I watched her danced.  Hell, it wasn’t the first time I saw her naked.

After her set, we rapped.  She said she had a “Foxy Boxing” match earlier (and that I should’ve seen her That speech never happened.  She came back, and the first thing she asked was if I could “stop staring”, as it was “kinda creepy”.  Y’know, because I was supposed to walk around with my eyes closed.  She asked me where my friend was at, and I explained that he was not here.  The whole conversation frustrated me, so I left.  No speech.  Nothing.  Except for ahot head.

Not even an apology.  The next day, I receive a text from her saying that we could no longer be friends because “I showed up to her job with no money” (as if I had really known sheworked there in the first place), that I was “looking like a weirdo.”  I felt like I was on top of the world with that text, I can tell you.  [Note: That last sentence was “sarcasm”.]

So I cut all ties.  I try to pretend like she doesn’t exist.  If I saw her now, it would probably be too soon.  To this day, I still don’t even know if I was in the wrong or not.  I just know that I learned a lot those past two days.  I think.

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