Just sorting out my stag do. Races, comedy club, cocktail bar, wine bar, titty bar. (Joke!). What depressing places Gentlemen’s clubs are- full of middle-aged men in suits pretending to work late, or younger men winking at each other pretending not to be terrified of the nubile nymphs gyrating up on the stage.
I went to one once on a stag do, it’s that long ago I can’t quite recall (honest) Nevertheless, we all enjoyed a free dance as part of the entrance fee, and from what I can remember it was about as erotic as a tax investigation by the inland revenue.
The evening was unremarkable save for my soon- to -be -best -man Greg’s heroics. He refused the first dance, preferring to give his magic silver dollars away to some bemused bald headed chump with a fat belly and a comb over.
As the evening progressed it was more and more obvious that Greg was refusing all invitations to have a dance performed for him. Soon, the dancers began to gravitate towards this strange refusenik. They were curious as to why he didn’t want to partake in what all the other patrons were enjoying
I sat next to him and listened as he chatted to the performers. I, like him, had no interest in the scantily clad young women’s figures, I was more interest in them as people (shut up).
He wanted to know how one particular fresh faced ingenue had ended up in such a grotty place. As she told him her story, of how she was a dancer who was in between jobs and needed to pay the rent, Greg coaxed out of her her contempt for the idiots who she had to smile at every night. Another girl sat next to him, probably happy to escape from the tiresome nods and winks from the oafs crowding her at the bar.
He slipped into her hand the last of his dollars as he talked. The girls exchanged the fake currency for cash at the end of the night. She asked him why he didn’t want a dance, really? Greg replied that he thought it would be disrespectful to his girlfriend, who he loved very much.
The girl’s faced fell into a long “awwww that’s soo sweet ” look.
I leaned over and whispered into his ear ” you’re well in there mate.”
Greg turned to me, closed his eyes and sighed “Tom, you’re such a fucking child.”