Shame.
I am not often ashamed of my behavior. Once in a blue moon I'll have one of those nights, where I'll wake up and truly believe that a dog must have pooped in my mouth overnight. After a mission to disinfect my mouth and I'll brave my overly complicated espresso machine and make a round of calls, just to confirm my debauchery and appropriately apologize to those surrounding.
I can count on one hand the amount of shameful moments I've had while sober or at least not drunk enough to phone the ex or pash a stranger. Recently, while out of town, without a friends I'd known longer than a few hours, came one of those moments. Now, I wasn't sober per se but I wasn't about to fall asleep with a kebab in my hand.
Scene: A cheesy strip club. Cheap disco lights, Welcome to the Jungle blaring, $12 vodka tonics and very stained carpet (from what? I don't even want to know).
Players: An eclectic group, 45+ professional single mother out for her first wild night in years, a young dorky accountant, a charming middle aged Irish man donned in a full suit with a pricey watch along with his young protege, who was decidedly good looking with a fetish for thin trashy blondes and me. Odd, I know but trust me, appropriate given the confidential context of it all.
Action: On first looks, it was a run of the mill night out at a strip club. Drinks, dancers and chatting. Why a strip club? Well what else do you do when no one is looking, you are in a town of strangers and consequences are low. It was an attempt to liven up a night of newly acquainted. It worked.
Slowly but surely, Irish professional who I'll name Mc Mighty for simplicity, started to gravitate to each other. Friendly conversation lead to, one on one discussions. Evaluations on dancers, brief relationship philosophies and of course the inevitable, relationship status.
With the departure of Cyanide that very weekend, I was as free as a bird. Mc Mighty was not. He was and currently is, married. Yep, the big M. Happily, blissfully married? No, he's cheated, she's cheated. He Has no intention of stopping and was contemplating making the big break up. In my mind, for some reason, he was separating. Blame the vodka tonics or my selective memory, either way ... married.
As conversation turned a tad too friendly, it was my job to smile and direct my attention else where. I did successfully for most of the night but ... a little bit of flirting wasn't hurting my fun factor or self esteem, so I tolerated it.
Although I may have thought I was just tolerating, I was probably a tad bit encouraging as well. I accepted the shots, the drinks, the cash to give to the dancers and most importantly, the attention. After all, it was just a bit of flirty fun, right? I figured after a few more rounds, we'll all tire and pile into a taxi back to the city and our separate suites.
At one stage, Mc Mighty suggested a lap dance. Now, being from America I've spent quite a bit of time in strip clubs...it's wasn't uncommon for a few of us to head out to a strip club for an 18th or just as an after hours spot to get a few drinks. I've had lap dances...many.
Yea, actually lots... in the champagne room, on stage, or in a dark booth in the back. I find it all quite removed and unsexy. It's almost always robotic.
At some stage, it's decided that Mc Mighty and I should go to a private room with my favourite stripper. After much discussion of which one she was, why she was the best looking one, locating her with the bouncer, watching another stage show, it was decided. We would both venture up to a private room.
Needing a bit of dependable liquid courage I wandered up to the bar for my usual, vodka and tonic with fresh lime, and overhear another female patron at another table chatting up Mc Mighty. My attention zoomed, out of curiosity and look, I am only human ... slight jealousy.
"So is she your wife?" said leggy blonde patron, while pointing at me. Mc Mighty went on to explain that yes, he was married and not it was not to me. Leggy blonde was visibly confused.
Buuhhh Buuuuuum.
It washed over me, I was so utterly ashamed that I had carried chatting, flirting and encouraging a married man. Although I hoped it would stay innocent enough,my own perceived innocence was not apparent to the others. We were caught and I was officially a homewrecker. A homewrecker, without actually doing any physical homewrecking. So really, I got all the spite without the pleasure.
I've never called a lap dance off so fast.
Comments