Wednesday, August 23, 2006

I guess I'm not a lesbian

After we had been in Manhattan for a few hours it started to rain. The games that were supposed to be played that night were postponed until the next morning. We hung out in one of the hotel rooms drinking beer until around midnight. It was fun but we could have done that without the seven hour drive. The next morning it was still raining. The tournament was cancelled. No one I know has ever heard of a state tournament ever being cancelled before, but we were there, it happened. Mr. Ice cold Had been so excited about playing at state I was afraid he was going to cry. Several people offered him hugs. Once he had swallowed the lump in his throat and could talk again he said, "I came here to do two things play softball and see some strippers. I'll be doing one of those before I go home."
He and his wife decided drive to Wichita and stay the next night there. They had already paid for a whole weekend of babysitting, so why not. We had two of our kids with us and the other one at Grandma's for the weekend, but dh was opposed to the idea. My sister and her husband decided they were going to Wichita too. Then the couple who had rode with us decided to ride with them so they could go out also. We all went to eat at Famous Dave's BBQ before we left town. Which was amazingly good. I'm not a big BBQ fan, but this was great. Before we left dh changed his mind and we headed to Wichita. The bartender at our hotel was an great lady, she said she was 60, I would have guessed 45. She laughed and joked, we loved her. She ended up slipping us a 12 pack to take up to our room when happy hour was over.
My son picked hooters to eat supper at. I'm worried I may be over exposing him to this softball crowd. Most of them are family though, so what can you do. After we had fed the kids, and settled them in a hotel room with a movie we headed out on our search for a strip club. Some of our party were underage, but they made it in with only one minor complication. A young man with the promise of nudity soon overcame that complication.
Growing up I had many different images of what my adult life would be like. One of those images was me living with my lesbian lover in an apartment with a beautiful view over Portland. A small part of me has never let go of this fantasy. It always seemed to me that life would be much simpler without the drama men cause. Unfortunately, for that dream anyway, I have a very strong attraction to men. I-along with a large number of men-have always wondered though if a women could simply fall into a lesbian lifestyle if they tried it.
Watching the dancers instead of finding myself attracted or even curious I was more amused by the antics of the men around them. I was pleased too, because these women didn't have the perfect bodies Hollywood presents us with they, were just normal women. The men seemed perfectly happy, they were excited by these women. This gave me hope in men in general.
At one point Mr. Ice Cold bought one of the women a lap dance. This woman is a lot of fun, but not really the lap dance type. At one point the dancer lifted up the lady's shirt and fondled her breasts. She started to hyperventilate. To make it worse some of her former students were with us. She was a little freaked out, but put up with it admirably. Later he buys his wife one. Now Peggy prides herself in being cool. She put on a face that was very calm for the whole thing. Her husband went and sat in a chair right next to her. It was funny to watch. I'm just glad I didn't have to do it.
I did however, at the insistence of the first lady, have to put a dollar in my teeth for a dancer and let her rub her breasts in my face. It wasn't sweaty and unpleasant like I thought it would be. It was more like washing your face,not horrible, just something you do and can't wait for it to be over. I closed my eyes and waited for her to finish. The breasts did nothing for me sexually. I had no urge to reach up and feel them, I am officially not a lesbian. Once again I find myself waving goodbye to a dream.

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