The Pilgrimage

It's 3:30 in the morning on Sunday.

I smell like coffee grounds and desperately want sleep.  Let me explain:

I play rugby.  I'm not that good, but my team is.  We've had an amazing season and now we're in the playoffs.  Saturday was supposed to be the semi-finals, and Friday night we had a team meeting to plan strategy.

At the meeting, our captain explained that there would be no game tomorrow.  The other team had forfeited. "What huge, gaping vaginas!" "pussies!"  and other such slurs were shouted.  But, Saturday we were going to have practice during our usual game time and then that night have a mixer with a sorority. The theme was Dirty Disney characters.


Friday evening,  I grabbed some dinner at a local coffee shop with my two bisexual female friends.  We had a fun time, they gave me costume suggestions and how to pick up girls suggestions.  After arriving home, my roommates and I went to our favorite late night diner.  At the diner, somehow, we came to the decision to go to a strip club after the party Saturday night.

So, Saturday, I go dressed as Prince Eric to the party.

Exactly like this. But with clothes.

I spent the evening drinking, awkwardly hitting on girls, and after giving up on that, my roommates picked me up and we drove out to this strip club in the middle of nowhere. Seriously nowhere. Cornfields everywhere around us.

I spent nearly $80 on strippers, especially this one kinky girl who had an intriguing set of tattoos and pierced nipples.  Kinda hot actually.

There was this one kid in the strip club, he couldn't have been more than 16, wearing wife beater.  Smug little asshole. I wanted to take him outside and beat the shit out of him. Didn't have a reason to, just wanted to.  Hell, I wouldn't have minded raping him; just anger fucking the little prick.

He ended up leaving while I was in the back room with a naked stripper on my lap, so the point ended up being moot.

The other patrons were surprisingly stereotypical: a man in a suit who looked like he must have hated his career and his life, an old dude with stache who could easily have been the grandfather of all the strippers there, and just your average collection of podunk yokels.

There were only four strippers:  Peaches, Ginger, Jasmine, and Holy-God-She's-Ugly.  Ginger was the kinky one, Jasmine the rather hot one, Peaches the hilarious fat one, and Holy-God-She's-Ugly was the unsuccessful one.  Ginger was the one who I got the lap dance from, but Holy-God-She's-Ugly had a weird resemblance to Nate. I sent him a text as she danced, asking if he had a sister or female cousin who stripped.

After the strip club, we drove back to our favorite diner, got some waffles and coffee beans.  Sniffed the beans to get rid of the scent of cheap strippers.  We reeked of it.  I ground up my set of beans, poured some on my shirt just to rid myself of the stench.

Our waiter, a good friend of ours who actually lives up the street from us, pointed out that if I spilled water on my shirt it would be stained.  I told him I planned on burning the shirt. He's an awesome guy, this jolly 6'7 gay guy who always jokes with us.  Cool fellow.

After that, came home, about to crash in bed now.

Ralphie's coming to visit in a week. We're not dating, but I look forward to fucking him again.

I chatted with him online a couple nights ago, he watched me shower through skype, mentioned that rugby has been good to me, my muscles are better defined these days. I've got a new workout plan I'm going to embark on soon. We'll see how that goes.