From: fonzie@ix.netcom.com (The_Fonz) Subject: the fonz writes an epilogue i was cleaning up my house for the first time in a month, whistling while i worked, feeling good about the world. the weeks of being depressed, and morose seemed finally behind me. there on the kitchen table was a special jar that belonged to R*. an item she left behind when she moved into her new house. i called her to see if she was going to work. if not, i could drop the item of at her house on my way to work, if so, i could drop it off at the club. she would be working. about 7 pm, bags packed for a couple days of work, and a company christmas party i hopped into my car and headed to the club. in the door, a cup of coffee waiting for R* to shake loose of any customer she may be with, drop off the item, and off to work i would go. with a smile on my face, and some old santana in the cd player, i headed south on mid* rd. both of the on duty valets come over to say hi, and give me shit for not coming around any more. the hat check girl in the booth waives my cover, and says "long time no see". S* was just coming in at the same time, and gives me a big hug, and tells me how good i look. the bouncer asks if i want my usual table. i tell him, "no, i'm not staying long, i'll just sit at the bar". the bartender grabs the cuervo 1800 bottle, and a bottle of bud, and heads my way. i wave off "the usual" and order a coke. i scan the room. my eyes meet other eyes, predatory eyes. eyes sizing me up. girls i know smile, and keep walking, barely a hint of recognition, bigger fish to fry. i spot R*. she's with another customer. she knows i'm here. i wait. there is a hockey game on, i sip my coke and watch the game. i am decidedly uncomfortable. this is not a place i belong. my pager goes off, and i get up to find a quiet place to answer the page. R* hurries over asking if i'm leaving already. no, just answering my page. be back in a minute, but won't be staying long. come back, couple minutes later she comes over, says hi. damn she looks good. i'm used to seeing her in jeans and one of my sweatshirts. seeing her wearing her warpaint and little else was startling. she's not paying attention to me, she's scoping the crowd. i am less comfortable. she goes off to get a drink. she comes back, and soon goes over to the customer she was with before. i get up to leave. she gives me a look like "so soon?". i can't get out of the place fast enough. i no longer belonged in a place i've referred to as "my living room". there were strangers there, whose faces i recognized. they saw me sitting at the corner of the bar sipping a coke, and knew i wasn't spending, hardly worth the effort. a mark, not worth the con. i hop in my car and head west to work. i am shaking, like it was 3 days after quitting smoking, and somebody lights one up under my nose. is it the alcohol? is it the cuddle? is it the combination? or is it something else. the good mood, and high spirit i was feeling earlier in the morning are no more than a distant memory. i am on the verge of tears. going to the club had been a substitute for a social life. it was a place i could go, and be recognized. i knew and was known by everyone in the place from the managers, to the valets. the bouncers knew my seating preference, the waitresses always took time to say hi, the bartenders all knew my drink preferences, and then there were the girls. the same girls who were wearing those predatory looks. i know what i felt that night was an exaggerated reaction to seeing the thin veneer of reality exposed under the comfortable blanket of cognitive dissonance. a day later i was feeling good again, knowing that nothing had changed. we can all sit back and claim we know that it is play for pay. i know i have. the reality is a litle more fuzzy. the buzz i got from the place was more one of recognition, than sexual excitement, although to deny the latter, would be ridiculous. ran into L* (a dancer i know) online later that night (she researching a paper on anxiety disorder, me just online while doing a software upgrade at work) fonz: i felt good today, really good. 15 minutes in the club, and i feel like shit again L*: then why do you torture yourself like that and what happened? fonz: all i did was go there to drop something off. had to wait for a few minutes so R* could get away from a customer. nothing happened. nothing at all. but i had to leave quickly. if i don't get a life outside work, i'll need a padded cell. L*: just not comfortable for you anymore, huh?? I think you're experiencing what some strippers do when the delusion of "superstar" wears off .. and the reality takes over. am I kinda sorta close?? fonz: i've always allowed myself the suspension of disbelief necessary to enjoy the place. unfortunately i allowed the place to be my social life. now that i don't go, the loss of social contact has created a vacuum that i need to fill somehow. yes, you are real close. it would be a comfortable place for me to be if it was just the diversion it once was. L*: well, I hate to say it, but I'm kinda glad for you, even if it's a little uncomfortable right now. ------------------ i'll call it a hiatus for the time being. i don't see anything wrong with the concept of a strip club. i just need to find something to fill the void left when i stopped going to clubs. when i do, a visit to a club will be just the diversion it is intended to be.