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.