#strippergame #divorcelife #newgirlfriend #exwifebullshit

Soundtrack:
I wake up in a big, soft, deep bed in a big house next to my new girlfriend.
Her long dark hair and fair skin barely peak out from underneath the covers. I grab her lithe, petite frame and pull her warmth into me. She sighs and grinds her pussy against my dick. She has a busy day of work whilst I have a busy day of not working b/c I've taken a couple days off of work.
I make us breakfast, pull her hair, grab her ass, kiss her with my hand wrapped around her throat then head out into the cold day to decompress and process all that has transpired as of late.
---

I sit and drink my first coffee in 4 days.
I haven't been **** in the same amount of time.
I didn't sleep well b/c I took a Klonopin after drinking last night which strikes me as odd b/c I'd read Klonopin helps you sleep. Fuck it. I also feel like a have a mild hangover which I google and discover is a side effect for some users. Lame.
Been busy training, moving out of the apartment I had with my ex-wife, fucking my new girlfriend, and arguing over bullshit and money and needlessly trivial details my ex-wife wants to wheedle and be melodramatic about b/c she knows I'm already fucking someone else.

I could say something about how ridiculous it is she's hurt I've already moved on given the fact I fucked my ex-girlfriend days before we got married, but y'know, that would be rational and you can't apply rationality to an irrational creature with a vagina unbound by reason and accountability guided only by the volition of emotions and expectations.
---

I sit at the coffeeshop where I wrote much of my first novel and much of my earlier blogs.
It's been days since I blogged or wrote and I feel that pregnant sense of the alien ready to burst form my chest as it devours my organs.
I need to write and express or digest or vomit up my last week of life.
I close my eyes, breathe deeply, open my eyes and peruse my instagram to recall those moments in time of my jaunt north in search of red flags and long nights.
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I leave work early and drive north against my better judgment.
I know it will probably be a bust b/c I have trained myself to let go of expectation and to relinquish my need for outcome based desire.......and if nothing else a great story of FAIL is always humorous in retrospect.
I might end up wasting money....but, it wouldn't be the first time I made expensive mistakes inthe pursuit of cheap thrills, am I right people?

I pick up a young(ish) girl with short blonde bobbed hair who looks even more wholesome when she's not stripping onstage and I see her in the light of the day beyond the neon lights and chipped paint of the stage and the pole. She's nervous as I think she forgot how handsome I am since we last saw one another on the sidewalk and the street and the night that could have been became a night that would not be. She shly compliments me the way they usually do
We head back to the hotel, I pick up liquor and soda and we drink and talk.
She's a girl.
Just that.
 Just a girl struggling to keep her head above water, using men for what she can and battling insecurity. The false bravado and confidence of the stage falls away and she's a girl in a cold world with men who want what she has (pussy) and men have what she needs (money).
She says something about my demeanor being disarming and that her guard almost immediately falls around me.

She doens't play the stripper lines they lay on you for sympathy as they groom you to be a long time customer. I consider going to eat but she'd rather stay in, relax, and bullshit. I had my suspicions, but as it is, I'm not a customer in the sense they usually seek out and groom and placate. She has her issues about men that flare up (understandably so) and she laments and resents on some level the different guys she's got on the hook to support her and such. I'm always interested to hear this part of their (stripper) world. It's fascinating insight into life as one of those guys who spends hundreds of dollars on a girl he's not even fucking and he knows is fucking some other guy or perhaps several other guys.
I'm always amazed at this part. These guys who over months and even years spend hundreds and thousands on a single girl and take them shopping and out to eat and pay their car payments and shit.
Mindblowing, right?
I'm not against dropping a cool hundred bucks or whatever to feel like a boss and have a blast with your buddies or buy some superficial attention while you drink in the dark glow of blacklight and tainted youth. But taking them shopping, buying them fake tits and shit?
Are you fuckin' serious bro?

It's cliched and trite and hackneyed but it's a truism of the world and we talk frankly and openly. She asks about my divorce not b/c I've paid for a lap dance and feigns interest to run up my number of private dances but b/c for whatever reason she's attracted to me and she doesn't say it outright, but she feels calm and peace when talking to me.

Eventually we're both drunk as we each don't drink often anymore, something about low tolerance and such.
I go to the bathroom and as I come out the lights are off and she's in front of me and grabs me by the collar then lays back on the bed with her hand gripping her crotch through her skinny jeans.
She pulls me on top her and we kiss for a time with me grinding against her.
She pops up and pushes me back on the bed and straddles me as she tilts her head back and runs her fingers across her breasts and through her hair.

I'm beginning to like this view more and more.
I don't check my phone and my girlfriend doesn't know where I am.
I'm nearby another girl in this same city who wants me to fuck her, but I have only one dick, only one body I can manifest in this reality, and it occurs to me Dr. Manhattan has it made.
She straddles me and we kiss hard and hungry and fast and she responds to my touch the way they always do.
She's on her back and I'm sucking on her nipples and she's moaning and grabbing the back of my neck and pulling my hair.
My hands are down her pants and she's dripping wet and she's switching places with me and she's sucking my dick with skill and I'm fucking her and she's moaning and the film reel breaks and I'm non-existent.
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I wake up to the bright light of the cold, overcast sky because the fucking blinds in this relatively cheap hotel room don't pull closed all the way.
She stirs quietly and sighs then pulls herself in close to me, her short blonde hair tickling my face. She kisses me on the neck and I kiss her on the cheek and we go back to sleep.
We spend another hour in bed, relaxing and talking about nothing and everything. I shower and dress as her eyes rove over me, I drop her off at her place and drive back to my city.
She jokingly gives me a pound as I drop her off but I tell her not to be ridiculous and to kiss me.
I say it in a way that for a split second a man telling her what to do sparks that knee jerk resistance but she makes the mistake of looking into my blue eyes and she leans in and kisses me the way Tom Hanks swims after Wilson in the ocean.

I drive back to my city and have a brief argument with my girlfriend about my previous night's disappearance which I smooth over later by fucking the shit out of her while she comes several times on my dick.
---

The old me is back in spades and such.
I had glimpses back in November when I fucked a girl from the same strip club as this blonde bob haired girl of the same age (19), in December when I met homegirl on the *****.....but now I feel the full onslaught of my former self coming to bear. I briefly wonder how long the facade will maintain with my new girlfriend. I know she's the type when I get caught that will not brush it off or go into denial mode. The countdown has begun.

Yet, as I suspected marriage and the passage of time have done...there is a measured quality, a temerity residing in my former self as he puts on my coat and shoes and steps into the light. The mania is there, deep down, but it does not hunger for nights of black out and reckless displays of audacity as it once did....rather it wants to feast on the fresh faces and supple pussy to be found and ravished and ravaged.

Good luck and happy hunting.
     - Yrs. in Christ