Devolution

So I'm not quite sure what I want to say about this yet... hopefully something will come from just writing (I guess that's the point of this blog to begin with).

Let's see... so last night I was debating whether to go to bed around 8 (so I could drive down to Florence for a time trial early this morning) or to go play this free poker tournament at the bar (they play 5 nights a week, but I just discovered this). I should have just gone to bed, but instead of course I went to go play... started at 7. To support these free tournaments, players are encouraged to drink while playing... and I'm all for support... and drinking... so I had a few.

My rationalization for going was that maybe I would just have a couple drinks, and be done with the tournament early, then would be easy to go straight to bed earlier than normal. So, at this bar, there is an incredibly cute waitress... last time I was there she was an incredibly cute bartender. Anyway, at first I was not too terribly fixated on this fact... but as the night went on, my mind went further and further off on its own. It didn't help that at the final table there was another guy talking about her... this introduced some weird competition instinct in me or something... made things worse anyway.

So anyway, I ended up... doing nothing at all. I finished the tournament in 3rd place... which took a long time... but then stuck around for "1 more beer" partly in the hopes that I would oh... I don't know... strike up a conversation. Yeah that didn't happen... then the incredibly cute waitress left for the night... then I was deeper into the deep end of my head. After my "last one", I got the check, and every beer I had was a dollar more than I was told. After bringing this up, the bartender said he could just give me an extra one since I didn't know... so, 1 more "1 more". So, as I spiraled further into my thoughts (I can't really speak to people anymore it seems... ) I decided to visit the exotic dancing establishment attached to this very bar... brilliant!

Of course I didn't have any cash... which is sorta important... so I walked about 5 blocks to the bank and 5 blocks back. All the while knowing that I should not go there... that it is never hmm... helpful really... but at the same time there was just a base desire to do this... and my logical reasoning did not try very hard to override this.

So, I went. I paid for what I wanted, and I got what I paid for. The women were very attractive, and good at what they do... but it is very difficult for me to enjoy it (I almost said "hard" for me to enjoy it.... phew, dodged that one). I do love the feeling of a woman pressing up against me, breathing in my ear.... ooh that is my favorite... but in this setting it is all false, fake, wrong, guilty, shameful, embarrassing, bad. I can only enjoy maybe a couple seconds at a time and let the other stuff go before it all comes back.

I don't quite understand why I go to strip clubs ever... but very infrequently I do... and I never feel good about it later. In fact, I always feel worse in all respects after going. Especially now that I have experienced a long-ish and for a while loving relationship... I have a need for at least a little touch.... something... anything... that sometimes I need to get how I can. My social awkwardness / shyness / low self esteem or body image... take your pick... has so far kept me from meeting anyone since my divorce really. Part of me says that's all bullshit and I should just quit being a baby... but that makes the other part of me cry (haha).