More Finy on the Web
  • Finy's Flickr Page
  • Finy's Myspace Page
  • Finy's Facebook Page
  • Organizations I Care About
  • Alzheimer's Association NYC Junior Committee
  • National Down Syndrome Society
  • The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society
  • Red Sox Links
  • Official Page
  • Boston Globe
  • Royal Rooters
  • Red Sox Blogs
  • 12eight
  • A Red Sox Fan in Pinstripe Territory
  • Empyreal Environs
  • Joy of Sox
  • Professor Thom's Blog
  • The Soxaholix
  • Blogs I Read
    Monday, October 23, 2006
    What a Weekend
    Certain people fascinate me, and she was absolutely one of them. sitting on a folding chair smoking a cigarette, her frizzy grey curls forming a halo of hair around her head. She wore a mauve mock turtle neck, paired with the type of jeans you just know had an elastic waistband. And all around her were twenty-something women in varying states of undress; each of them teasing their hair, adjusting their break-your-ankle heels, painting on their makeup, or examining their exposed breasts.

    This is the version of the strip club most never see. Here in the ladies room of the Manhattan genlemen's club called Private Eyes, I could barely contain my laughter. There I was, wasted, in my first strip club, continuing a conversation with one of the girls that had started while she was gyrating on a pole in front of me.

    What can I say, I really liked the lingere she was wearing!

    The entire scene had been perpetrated by The Redhead who had surprised us all the night before (Friday) by simply appearing - as if out of nowhere - from the left coast. See, while he had flown in just the previous day, his flight back to Los Angeles left at 6am Sunday morning. So clearly we had to stay up all night or risk him missing his plane. Clearly we all needed to take one for the team. And what better time for me to see my first strip club?

    Previous to this, Barnard Boy, Midwestern Girl, the Redhead and I had packed the day with Brunch, a viewing of The Prestige, a walk in Central Park, a trip to Professor Thom's, and a pit stop at the Blarney something, a bar on 34th Street. Call us what you will (and drunks would be appropriate) but we know how to make the most of limited time together.

    I laughed for the majority of the evening. At how my first thought upon entering the club was "Gee, I really like the boyshort and cami set the coat check girl has on" straight on through to our discussions while sitting on Perverts Row about whose boobs were fake, which were too coked out to know what they were doing, and if I had to choose, which girl I'd want a lap dance from.*

    Somewhere towards the end of the night/morning, we split off into two conversations. The Redhead and Midwestern Girl discussing I don't know what, Barnard Boy and I talking yet again about the possibility of us trying to be more than friends. It was a topic I had grown accustomed to in the past week, and a thought I had had previous to that. But, as I am want to do, I had been over rationalizing myself out of it for weeks. Hadn't I just gotten out of a relationship? Did I really want to risk our friendship? Could he really open up to me the way I would need a partner to?

    As we sat there, discussing our pasts and debating our future, all while absentmindedly stuffing dollar bills in half-naked women's G-strings, I decided I needed to stop thinking. He's cute, he's smart, he's funny, and I already trust him. Oh and he's a Red Sox fan.** What more could a girl ask for?

    So yes, it is entirely possible that Barnard Boy and I "officially" crossed the friend line while sitting in a strip club. Now there's a story to tell your parents!

    After all that, Sunday hit like a ton of bricks. Barnard Boy and I arrived at Riverside Park at 9:30am - just four hours after returning to his Harlem apartment. We proceeded to sleep-walk our way through the two mile Memory Walk before parting ways.

    More than 24-hours later, I still don't think my body and mind have caught up with what went on this weekend. And neither has my wallet.

    But hot damn if it wasn't worth it.

    * I never did end up makign up my mind, so no, I did not get a lap dance.
    * How in the world I've ended up with yet another Sox fan while living in NYC I have no idea, but trust me, I am not questioning it! :)

    Labels: , ,

    posted by FINY @ Monday, October 23, 2006  
    • At 10/24/2006, Blogger Lushy said…

      My boss and I have decided that you can generally tell keepers by the team they follow. Red Sox fans are keepers.

    • At 10/24/2006, Blogger Miss Browneyedgirlie said…

      Not all Red Sox fans are keepers. I learned that the hard way.

    • At 10/24/2006, Anonymous Amy said…

      :) I got a lap dance in Vegas. It was hot :)

    • At 10/24/2006, Anonymous Holly-OTP said…

      AMEN MissBrownEyedGirlie.. A-M-E-N!!! HI FINY!!!! (((((hugs)))))

    • At 10/25/2006, Blogger FINY said…

      lushy: Makes sense to me! Figure if they're true fans, then theoretically they should be loyal and passionate and who doesn't want those two things in a guy your dating?

      BEG: Yeah, no theory is perfect. Hell, I've been through a number of Sox fans that weren't worth keeping.

      Amy: The next time I go, that's clearly going to happen ;)

      Holly: Oh my WORD girl, I haven't heard from you in AGES! Email me we need to catch up!!!!

    Post a Comment
    << Home
    About Me

    Name: FINY
    Home: New York, New York, United States
    About Me: Just a New England girl trying to make it in NYC. Email me at: soxfaninnyc [at] gmail [dot] com
    See my complete profile
    Previous Post

    Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

    Free Blogger Templates

    PageRank Checking Tool

    Who Links Here


    Top Personal Blogs