Okay, well, my marriage sucks. The wife and I discussed some issues… and, I thought we were getting to a point to where we would begin resolving some issues, or at least make some headway with them, but she stopped all that dead in its tracks by refusing to participate any more. Unfortunately, we both agreed there was no need for us to have gotten married if this is how things are going to be.
She said that she has changed since our first meeting. She says she went from a naïve young girl to a woman gaining life experience. She thought things would [miraculously] change once we were married. No matter how much I had spoken on this subject previously, she learned there is no miraculous change.
Without saying the marriage will dissolve, we both know it. It is inevitable.
Since she prefers to have sex once or twice a month [now], I am seeking other venues. She always knew that if I did not get the sex I want that I would go elsewhere. I have always said, “A person is getting sex. It is just a question of how and from whom.”
Shall I explain my “other venues”?
Although this blog is anonymous, I still wish to protect the identity of the young lady I have met, so I will call her Tanisha.
Tanisha and I met a few months ago when my wife and I first moved to this city. If you can imagine, we met a strip club. She is a dancer.
At the time, Tanisha knew I was engaged and knew my whole story… new to the city, where I worked, my son, my fiancé, my interests… she and I talked a lot while I was visiting her club. We talked a lot and shared with me the same personal information about herself.
“I don’t normally share my personal life with customers, so I don’t know why I am sharing all this with you. But, you seem like a trustworthy guy,” she said to me in those first few months. Trustworthy. It is a description not often given to me, and I relish it.
I stopped going to the club for months since there was so much strife at home. However, I relented because, in the words of my wife’s encouragement, “You should do what makes you happy and stop sacrificing so much.” Also, I wanted to be among the company of women who would give me the affection I am starved.
As part of the discussion/argument with my wife, I told her she should stop accompanying me during activities I enjoy because she only takes the fun out of them. I had never said this to her before and I had always strived to resolve those things she would bring up – bills, personal problems, “he said, she said,” and other drama – with patience, listening to her statements and trying to redirect our focus. Never successful, I still tried. However, I just can not afford to take her with me anymore, forsaking my own enjoyment. It takes a toll on a person to always be under the grind without relief.
So, as you can imagine, I had returned to the gentleman’s club without my wife. Also, since she and I are no longer having sex, conversation, or any other forms of closeness and marital intimacy, I am seeking it elsewhere, which is what I was also doing at the club.
Once before, my wife accompanied me to the same strip club and met Tanisha. In fact, Tanisha sat down at our table with us and took part in lengthy “girly” conversations with my wife (then fiancé). However, I knew instantly from Tanisha’s expression when she sat down with my wife and I, and introduced all parties, that she became withdrawn and possibly disappointed. She became aloof with me despite my observable enjoyment in her company.
When I had returned, recently, to Tanisha’s club, she passed by me a few times with her customers on their way to the private room for lap dances and, as soon as I looked her way, she was quick with redirecting her eyes and ignoring my presence. This instantly told me what I had suspected: we had connected.
From the bar, I watched a black girl dance on the back stage with vivaciousness, vigor, and contagious energy. She was having a great time, enjoying herself, and connecting with the men in the establishment, which showed by how many times she was going back to the private lap dance room (and ignoring me in the process).
I really could not believe it was Tanisha when I first saw the girl dancing because she had so much positive energy. Moreover, this girl dancing had fairly large boobs whereas the Tanisha I first met did not even have A cups. Tanisha had been the only black girl dancing at the club the last time I was there, so I thought this had to be a new girl, but she danced so much like Tanisha, but with more zest. The bartender informed me the woman I was watching actually is Tanisha.
Tanisha had gotten a breast enlargement. She is approximately six-foot tall with legs that reach Canada, C-cup boobs she is till getting used to (she bumps into them and mistakenly pops them out of her outfit), and a toned, slender body that reflects her discipline in physical fitness and professionalism. In short, she is beautiful.
From the I had entered the club to the time I left, I had only sat at the bar and never approached the stage. I never tipped any of the girls.
Sitting at the bar, I made it a point to bullshit with the bartender and other customers at the bar. I learned this tactic from Manswers, a television show, on how to date a stripper. It seems effective.
Once she was done dancing once or twice on stage and finished giving her much-requested lap dances to the men surrounding the stage, she walked to the staff member manning the door and collecting the cover charge. In order for her to get to him she had pass by me at the bar. As she approached, I made eye contact and she diverted, just as we had been doing before. However, I stuck my arm out to accept her, much like a hug. She quickly turned on the charm and “salesmanship,” identifying me as a customer and not a companion. It was as obvious to me like a flashlight in the eyes upon wakening.
I do not recall the details of what was first said, but I dove right in with the obvious and typical salutations: hello, how are you, sorry I have been absent, you have such a contagious and upbeat energy, you are very attractive, and so forth. By her request, or demand, I agreed to a lap dance with her. My first ever with her, and my only all night.
You see, I had gotten lap dances from the other girls but never her, although she and I had talked the most. Also, I had gotten a private room with a girl for half an hour who was NOT Tanisha, as well. Consequently, I am sure Tanisha was jealous, or questioning her attractiveness. In spite of any reason why I had done those things, I got a lap dance from Tanisha that night a few days ago.
It was not her breast enlargement that aroused me, although they certainly are very nice and did help. Her energy excited me; her willingness and enjoyment of arousing me. He playfulness/flirtatiousness is was what excited me. I was hard, extremely hard, and she exploited it through my jeans.
After she finished giving me her gift, I told her how much I enjoyed her lap dance, as well as exactly what I enjoyed. More than anything, I believe she enjoyed my compliments on her new found vitality.
“Everyone has been telling me how much I smile, now. I love it! I love them,” she says, gripping and raising her new breasts. “I do feel better about myself,” giggling and smiling, reveling in her happiness, she continues, “and in life!”
Afterward, she made it a point to me not to stray away because she wanted to sit with me and visit. After her time on stage, we promptly got a table to ourselves. There, we got right back in to our groove, sharing things, talking, laughing, and genuinely enjoying one another’s company. I felt good and bad at the same time – I felt good to be noticeably attractive enough to someone to incur flirting, compliments, smiles, and interaction. At the same time, I felt bad because my wife was not sitting across from me.
Tanisha had to dance, again. It seemed to me that the other girls and the customers recognized Tanisha as a dancer to be reckoned with. Both on and off stage, Tanisha dominated the attention of the men, glided and floated more than walked or danced, and commanded an amount of respect from all. She certainly captivated me, then and now.
Joining me, again, I decided it was time to make my move.
From the bar, “Let’s get a table,” I suggest. She moves to a table where another dancer is sitting.
“Let’s sit over here,” I suggest, pulling the seats out from a table without anyone else around.
“Okay.” She sits down and pokes fun as she crosses her long, exquisite legs, “Are you comfortable, now?”
“Yes. I just wanted some time alone with you; just you and me.”
She pauses from lighting her Black and Mild, smiles at me with eye contact, and touches my hand as she comments, “You’re a sweetie.”
“Let me light for you,” and I pull out my Zippo.
A few dances ago when she and I first sat down together, she had asked me how things were going and I aired my dirty laundry regarding my wife. There, at the table where Tanisha and I were sitting alone, her hand on mine, I told her I would like to get to know her outside this place. It was then that she gave me her phone number and asked me to be sure to call her so we could hang out sometime soon. As women do, her polite request was really an order. It meant I had better call her and not disappoint her.
As part of the exchange, she asked for my number. I was reluctant in answering, but said I had only a home number. Apparently of no consequence, Tanisha was quick to say, “Okay, I’ll give you mine and you call me.”
All night, we sat together. All night, we talked. All night, we laughed. I made her laugh so much she was slipping out of her chair. She was laughing so hard she could not breath; laughing the “silent laugh” of a person gasping for air while laughing. She got so comfortable with me she dropped her salesmanship and guard all dancers maintain as a requisite of their occupation. We were no longer customer and dancer talking and laughing together at the bar; we were Me and Tanisha talking and laughing in a world all our own.
Some men find some kind of status in dating a stripper, which I can see. I have a certain amount of respect and covet of a man dating a stripper, and I see him with an amount of status. However, Tanisha is not a status symbol for me. She genuinely exhibits the traits I am attracted to. Visiting with her, her company is pure pleasure. Her body movements, dancing, and physical beauty are enchanting, and her smile is powerfully hypnotizing.
Stripper to others. An enchanting, fine-as-hell young woman to me.