I invited a few friends over to my new place over the weekend. I gave them a comprehensive tour of my new two-bedroom apartment and everyone gave me Queer-Eye-worthy advice on what I should do with the place: where to hang the harness, what colors go with stainless steel, and the best floor covering to protect against 'fluids'. Read more [+/-]
I also went to The Web two nights in a row. I know what you're thinking, "Child! This child is desperate!" But I seriously like the music there. Okay fine, I like attention.
Anyway, on Saturday night, my attention was on the winner of the 'Go Go Strip Tease' contest. My heart still flutters when I think of him (and so do other parts of my anatomy, but I won't go into that).
I congratulated him for winning and got to know him a bit while we danced. I decided against slipping dollar bills into his pants because I wanted a real relationship to come out of it. Tipping him didn't seem the best thing to do at the time, though it would make an interesting story to tell the kids.
"Daddy, how did you meet Poppa?"
"Well Julius, Poppa won a Go Go Strip Tease contest and then I stuffed money in his undies. It's been a fairy tale ever since."
"Wow! Just like in the bed time stories you read at night?"
"That's right sweetie. And when you turn 5, I'll tell you a story about Daddy and Poppa's 'special' friends."
Oh. dear. god. Did I just fantasize about having kids with some guy I haven't even dated? (yet?) And did I call my kid 'Julius'? Am I turning into a woman? That's it. No more Family Guy before bed.
To be continued... (I hope!)