Between two worlds

14 Oct

Today was one of those days where I was missing it.
Missing the girls, not the guys.
I guess the Brothel Gods said, “Hey Brothel Babe, since you’re not going to the brothel, we’re going to bring a little bit of the brothel to you.”

It was brought to me today in the form of a Skype phone call from my buddy Ashley.
Ashley is cool because you know she will at some point go on to do more amazing things.
She’s a striking young black woman. Her striking-ness shines through in the way she thinks.
She’s an explorer, but a grounded one.

Ashley wants to go to school for things. More than one thing.
She has business ideas. A couple of them.
She told me after we first met that she would like to help me with my business ideas.

As of this moment, Ashley is in Las Vegas. She worked up north for a month and I thought by going to Vegas, she meant that she was going to go to a brothel there but instead she is kickin’ it in a hotel! First the Luxor, now the Excalibur…for who knows how long.

Chatting with her soothed my inner lesbian.
She is bi and I think there is some kinda psuedo Bi-crush thing going on, even tho she is wayyyy supportive of my straightness.

We can’t avoid that there is a “connection” a-happenin’, even if it is on that meta-physical mental spiritual neo hippie bullshit level. I love neo hippie bullshit.

My favorite day was when we had the biker rally a few weeks ago and Ashley had her hair in pocahontas braids, and then instead of a bra or anything, she stuck two silk daisies to her boobs instead of pasties. She looked like a bohemian lovechild. SO GOOD.

She was also the one who, when we went grocery shopping, she tried to hook me up with the grocery checkout guy.

He was an adorable guy and somehow in the flurry of smiling over his cuteness, she leaned into the girl in the checkout aisle adjacent to this cute clerk, and said, “ok what is his deal, is he single?” The female clerk said the guy grocery clerk was in fact single and was super nice and she pushed out some receipt paper for me to write my number down.

I DID it.

Of course. I changed my phone number two weeks later and I haven’t given it to the clerk yet.

It’s too hard to keep up with being caught between two worlds.
I feel like its only a matter of time before I open my fat mouth and slip up.

That’s Ashley.

Then my other love, my bed buddy Katrina, is in town.
Katrina and I are from the same town.
Katrina broke up with her BF, and is visiting for the first time in three years.
I told her I’d like to take her out to eat.
She’s celebrating her mom’s birthday.
Katrina is like the leveler to my “chi”.
I fuckin’ miss my homie.

Tomorrow I’m going on my 2nd date with a real life dude in a week.
I really don’t want to go.

I’m going because the guy has a job that is interesting,
and he’s the epitome of “I am a clueless tourist who moved here
and moved to the douchey-est part of town.”

Part of me pities the clueless bastard who moves to douche ville and wants to let him know that hey….maybe made a mistake and doesn’t belong there.
EVEN THOUGH he says he loves it by the water.

Since I have NO HUMPDAY ESSAYS HAPPENING these days…
alls I can do is tell you I kissed someone this week.

I can provide you a decent play by play analysis of my work-related fucking….but….here’s one time I don’t have words.

No words other than, “Its Better Than Denzel.”
Which for those of you who DON’T know, its the long standing joke at work that when you are with somebody you find revolting,
you just imagine yourself with Denzel Washington, and he makes everything better.
Maybe my Imaginary Denzel is like….mediocre on purpose…because Real Life Dude is better than Imaginary Denzel.
Or maybe my imagination is picking up where Imaginary Denzel has left off,
and Real Dude is not that great…but my imagination is filling in the holes because
I’m like a sex addict, who is totally TOTALLY having COMPLETE AND UTTER WITHDRAWALS RIGHT NOW.

YEAH. Have I gone into that?

You could tap my vein and mainline a dick right now.
Partially its industry withdrawals……..which is separate from REALITY…..

The REAL ME knows that normal girls don’t fuck a different dude every day, or even the same dude every day.
But THE BABE is dying.
I miss the stripper pole.
I miss my super high heels.
I miss seeing my scantily clad ladies for my 12 hour shifts.
I miss taking drags of their cigarettes.
I miss the sexy ghetto tunes they would play on the jukebox. So much so that I even bought my favorite song that my 18 year old buddy plays and I put that shit in my itunes playlist to soothe my loss.

I miss Denzel too. Okay? Okay.


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