16 February 2012

Time is Money, Honey

So I've realized that I have a tendency to go home with a guy quicker than others. No I don't go home with a guy every night, well I try not to. But when I know a guy is the guy, I just grab him and run. I don't see the need to fuck around. It’s only going to delay the “after party”.

Over the weekend I was in Pittsburgh (don't ask me why I was there, I don't even know) with a friend to check out the gay nightlife. After finishing a bottle of vodka, we blindly journeyed to the limited gay bars Pittsburgh has to offer. The neighborhood bar was our first stop, which was filled with such bizarre people; big, small, black, white, teethed, toothless and surprisingly a hot drag queen.  However, the most remarkable person was the entertainment for the night, a 50 year old stripper who was working his “magic” on stage. He was humping anything he could his pelvis on; rails, peoples’ heads, empty glasses, you name it, he humped it. The pensioner stripper was having the time of his life and I applauded his confidence. 

His actions did come with certain consequences. I found myself drinking faster and faster to ensure that I was drunk enough to burn the image out of my mind. I chose a PBR to fit in with the rest of the crowd however my friend refused to stoop to such standards. After two songs, the poor old exhausted stripper needed to take a rest or potentially a nap. The stage was overtaken by Pittsburgh’s finest and they were going ape shit crazy, smashing glasses and dry-heaving into trash cans. A failure to get the night pumping, my friend and I ran out of there as fast as we could.

The gay lounge, 5801 was next and what felt like 5 minutes passing, I had already worked out my entire plan for the night. The guy I met was ridiculously cute and it really only took 3 sentences to decide that;

1. He wasn't going to kill me
2. He was funny
3. He thought I was funny
4. I was going home with him tonight

I ran over to my friend "Surprise! I'm going home with…this guy! Bye!". I left him alone at the bar. Am I a bad person for leaving so quickly, even though I knew where it was going? No I'm not. After being left alone, my friend was greeted by a stranger and when I returned back to the apartment the next morning, he wasn't alone. I was glad, he needed a good “shattering of his meat hole” (I heard this the other day and I’ve been waiting to use it).

The point of the story: abandon your friends so they get laid.



  1. Better man than I: I would have been drunk by the time we got to the stripper. I would have left with him. ;) Nice post.


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