I won’t keep you in suspense. But I have to say that I must have a thing for backseats. A group of us, consisting of mostly the same ladies from the Halloween outing, went out partying (surprise!) and got comfortably intoxicated and had an orgy in the back of a limo. I do believe it was someone’s birthday, but I don’t remember whose, specifically. What do I remember? A tangle of arms and legs as various twosomes and threesomes made X-rated history. Thank goodness the divider between the driver and the backseat was closed and locked. Otherwise, we’d have been roadkill. Sexy roadkill, but roadkill. As I watched the events unfold, I saw my opportunity – Lil’ Sexy was not being attended to, but she appeared to be interested in the events. I didn’t even wait for foreplay; I just went for the gold.
Unfortunately, we got to our destination and it all had to end. But somehow I felt renewed, refreshed, exuberant. Thanks to my visit to Lil’ Sexy’s nether regions, I was whole again. The cloud above my head from dealing with Lisa and my disappointment with how things turned out with Theresa had been lifted. At least I hoped it was. I’ll elaborate.
Women are very hard to deal with.
The emotion. The attitude. The nagging. The fickleness. The anxiety. The mood swings.
It’s enough to make anyone go insane. Sometimes you just need to get in, get it on and get out. Like a penis. Seriously, when you see couples who don’t seem very happy, the women don’t seem to care about their appearance, they berate each other in public or are just kind of ugly…don’t you just want to ask him, why? It’s the same emotion one feels after watching a marathon of Bridezillas. Who would marry that monster?! When I see heterosexual couples, I have to think: what keeps him there? Sure, he loves her: she’s pretty, she’s his baby mama, she’s nurturing, she’s a good cook…but let’s get real, back to basics.
It’s the vagina.
Yes. When you get right down to it, nature makes the penis more tolerable of the emotion, the attitude, the nagging, the fickleness, the anxiety, the mood swings. Why do you think strip clubs are so prosperous? It ain’t the liquor. I remember people-watching at work: I’d find a corner at the bar, get a drink and watch. The aggressive dancers pretty much told them what they were going to do and the men followed along, enjoying the dominance. It’s not that men want to be dominated. Nor do they want to part with all of their hard-earned money. But they do want to see your vagina. Some even hope to conquer it. The chase is fun for them. But what happens when you don’t have a penis?
Over the years, I’ve had to deal with accepting my sexuality. I put on a brave front all through college: co-president of the gay student union on campus, speaker’s bureau panel, budget committee, community meetings and events. I was almost what you would call a militant lesbian. But under the surface, I had doubts. Correction, have doubts. Not that I’m gay, I’m pretty sure of that. But whether or not two women can really have a healthy, successful relationship. And would an all-lesbian strip club be as prosperous as its heterosexual counterpart? Is the power of the vagina strong enough to compel another vagina (not a penis) to stay through the bullshit. Just to be clear, I’m speaking from an honest place: not a bitter one. Having a consistent, familiar vagina at my disposal is not worth the bullshit.
Aaaand I’m back. I had to go ask a very good friend of mine if what I’m saying makes sense. Or if my newly discovered affinity for Kosher wine is obscuring my thought process. I’m glad I asked her because she made an interesting point. Yes, she said. The bond between two vaginas can be as strong as that between a penis and a vagina. The difference is that it can be positive or negative. It can be so strong that the intensity of the relationship can be felt, seen and heard for miles around. Or – it can be so intense that it implodes on itself, rendering the relationship null and void, leaving the two parties absolutely devastated. I can safely assume that she speaks from the experience of having to watch the unfettered blossoming of my recent relationship with Sharon, followed by its tumultuous end. She was my rock, my comfort, my source for a muscle relaxer. Thanks ‘Ambs’!
However, at this point in my stripper career, I was beginning to feel…angry. Angry that it was so easy for straight people. The dynamic is so simple and laid out for the two involved, whether it’s in a strip club, a bar or the mall. Watching women ask men for dances, men paying for dances, sex, marriage…and not all in a strip club. I started to feel like an imposter in a foreign world. I didn’t belong here. And not even having oral sex with a hot chick could compensate for the emptiness I felt. Damn. And that usually worked.
I needed a break. I needed balance. I needed to head back to my friendly neighborhood lesbian bar. But this time, I’d be looking for a job.