Jesus. Just looking back through some old posts from when I set the blog up in 2011. I really wasn’t making the best use of my time. In particular, instead of working on my problems of depression and sexual anxiety, I was perving out and obsessing over a lap dancer I met in a club once, and who I also saw at a boxing event.
Well, I avoid lap dancing clubs now as I have better things to do with my time and money. House music clubs are more my thing, where the women are just as hot and marginally-less unattainable. I went to Venus in Manchester last night. I think I may have seen someone in the seating area who may have been said woman. She was a dead spit. You can’t exactly walk up to a girl and say “did you used to be a lap dancer?” though, can you? Because if you’re wrong you’ll get a slap, and if you’re right, she’ll think “this is that creepy blogger who can’t get me out of his head.” And I don’t want either of those. (I expect the manager of Baby Blue showed her the blog post ages ago after I showed it to them on Twitter.)
Not to mention, my antiperspirant broke during pre-drinks in the Northern Quarter in what may have been The Whiskey Jar, which had an incredible top row but was absolutely heaving. So I didn’t feel like approaching anyone at all.
Were you in Venus, though? Do you know her? Are you her?
As for the club, the music was good but I don’t think my mates were into it. It’s also hard as FUCK to pull in there.
Assistant Organiser / RD has been out with us both nights but nothing has happened. Meant to ask her how she was feeling after a recent failed attempt at sex, but I didn’t step forward. Not even sure how I’m feeling. I guess we’re friends now.