Day 56 Breaking Up is Hard to Do
Doug broke up with his girl. Like I have said before, I’m not really into that whole ‘talking about stuff’ thing. So, I listened, as well as I can. This is really a deficit on my part, and I’ve always known it to be one. I get annoyed when people bring me their problems, and I’m just starting to realize that it’s more of an annoyance with myself for not knowing what to say. But I promised that this memoir was going to be about me and Doug, not my own mental issues.
The bad part of that part of the evening was that I had to tell him all the good things about him and all the reasons why he’s going to attract another woman. I.E. “Gee, Doug, any girl would want to do you, and make babies with you, just not me.”
Seriously, it was actually a nightmare for me. He caught his girlfriend shagging one of her coworkers, and when he confronted her, she said some really cruel things to him. So, I had to boost his ego in multiple, personal areas; from his job not being degrading and a dead end, to his clothing not being dated, to his intelligence being more than just knowing big words. I rubbed his big, muscular shoulders, and told him how he is such a great guy. I was doing a terrible job. And my nightmare was just beginning.
In the end, I did the only sensible thing, I took him to a strip club and bought him a lap dance. I actually get a bit of a thrill from going to a club like that, on the few occasions that I have gone to one. It’s so amazing, how all these women expose themselves, bump and grind, seduce a hundred men a night, and are able to make each one feel attractive and special. And all these men, just sitting there, allowing themselves to fall into a fantasy world, or the other men, trying to look macho, in their own fantasy world, for their friends and business clients. And the bouncers, who have to keep guard over the fantasy. I could sit and watch them all day, writing my book. It would make a great sitcom. But I digress, and avoid.
The girl grabbed my hand and pulled me as she guided Doug into one of the back rooms. I would have been perfectly happy to stay on the main floor, and just watch the menagerie of humanity. I was more than a little uncomfortable watching Doug get huge naked fake boobs and an incredibly taut butt rubbed in his face, but I called back to my college acting classes, and put on a smile. Christie, the stripper, felt the need to tell me when “Little Doogie,” (her name for it) was getting excited, and all I said was, “Great!”
The next part of the night is one that my intelligent bit regrets, while my dumbass bit thinks it was a good life experience. Basically, as Doug’s five minutes was up, she reached over to me, and I let her pull me in and give me a total porn star kiss, tongues wagging like dogs licking at a fire hydrant, like all guys think is hot. It was totally awkward, and felt like a big nothing, but he just stared with his big, stupid mouth open.
So, I brought him to the club to let some professional women do my work, that I’m supposed to be able to do as a friend. They were supposed to make him feel attractive, and give him some eye candy to get him off later. Instead, because God thinks it’s funny to see me squirm, I put on a show for him with a gay-for-pay stripper. Now, I can be sure that he’s on the other side of this wall, abusing himself while he thinks about me and another woman. Disgusting pig.
That’s a bit too harsh. I brought this on myself. No, he is a disgusting pig, but I’m the one that put the food in his trough.
One other thing sucks major league donkey balls. We each had a few drinks before we went to the club, and we each had a couple of strong ones when we were there; apparently some clever manager figured out that drunk customers spend more money. We were quite drunk, and talking very raunchy, which was actually kind of refreshing, coming from clean mouthed Doug. At some point, while Christie was trying to sell us on a lap dance, she said something about bringing a hot girl to a strip club was like bringing sand to the beach. I was drunk and quiet, so I just sat back while they discussed my hotness. No, I was loud and stupid.
“Doug thinks my tits are small.”
“No I don’t!”
“Yes, you do, jerk! You told one of your moron friends that, the other night when you thought I was sleeping.”
“That was just Vinnie, if I told him you had great tits he’d want to be all over you.”
So, that happened. First of all, I spend a whole night trying to make him feel better about every little bit of himself, and, in return, all I get is a “Great tits,” remark. Secondly, “Thank you!” Thirdly, “Screw you, pig.” And fourthly, I guess it’s all kind of funny, I should learn my lesson about trying to be a guy’s best friend, and move on.
Posted by russellbauman 
Posted by russellbauman 
