I’ve worked my balls off at the gym this month, so I wanted to treat myself.

Baby Platinum is a strip club that I thought I’d never got a dance in, so I figured now was a good time to go have a look. It turns out I had in 2015. At that time, I’d paid £80 for a 2-girl dance.

I had been in in 2012 and not got a dance.

Tonight I got into town around midnight with £120 in my pocket. First I had a quick look around: Long Legs wasn’t open, Whisky Down was but it was extortionate last time, so headed over to Chinatown to Platinum.

£20 on the door. ID scanned on entry. I’m normally in favour of this, but it’s a bit daunting when it’s a strip club. Free cloakroom.

I got a pineapple juice. Loads of girls were working, but I appeared to be the only customer, unsurprising as the whole city was pretty dead. I think a lot of people stay local on bank holidays. I got talking to a gorgeous mixed race girl. She wanted £80 for a solo dance, and £160 for a 2-girl dance. Fucking ridiculous. I told her I was going to a cash machine. (I obviously wasn’t.)

The thing is, £160 isn’t that much money in the bigger scheme of things. I’ve grown up having no money, except what my parents gave me. I’ve not missed out on much, but independence has been a slow and vague process, with diagnoses, employment support, DLA, Tax Credits and PIP playing their part. Before this, and before the scheme that I got employed under, when I tried to work, my conditions got me sacked. I was poor until I got on DLA in 2011 or something. Now I’ve actually got 5 figures in an ISA. £160 would not have broken the bank. But what would I have got in return? 4 tits in my face for a few minutes?

Away from my personal situation, let’s discuss the club itself. How are these venues still operating? They’ve got no customers because people don’t have the money for luxuries like this. The country is broke. I can see Platinum going the same way as Silks, Fantasy Bar, Baby Blue, etc. etc. It’s going to go under.

I may do Long Legs again next Saturday.

Meanwhile, while I’m blogging, DK is still mithering, asking what I’m doing at the weekend, etc. If I post that I’m doing something, he’ll ask how that specific thing was. I need to talk to him about opening new social circles. I still give him lifts to the support group, and am increasingly dreading it. I need to discuss with him how different we actually are and how I’m looking to stay social with people who are actually not part of the Mental Health community, not part of any support group, be it ours or any others.

Went out with the support group on Fri.

Lots of the people there – DK, RH, and many others, are grating on me. Some are good people, I’ve just not got much in common with them. One that I do get on with I stayed out with for a while, hitting Peaky Blinders and generally being ignored by the women there. Probably because I was steaming off a whisky pouch in my back pocket.

I then went to Salt Dog Slims, did some coke, and went to an afterparty in someone’s flat – a friend of a guy in the group – and did more coke. Getting home was a ballache as all the roads in my local area are dug up. I slept most of Saturday and got to the gym in time for a steam.

Saturday night I went out with a group of lads. I’d met one of them before, through a guy who used to go to the support group. I’d not seen JB from the support group since before the pandemic, but he went out for his birthday a couple of weeks ago (and got thrown out of a karaoke bar for slapping a girl’s arse) but he had introduced me to RD2. RD2 is into his indie music, which I can’t stand, so I didn’t see things going well. We’d gone out around a load of shit old man pubs, which I couldn’t stand, but RD2 had promised me Northern Quarter bars for his birthday (I realise how imposing that sounds). Sadly, his mates were also pub obsessed, football fans, indie fans and generally people that just wanted to go to places that I didn’t.

So I ditched them. RD2 texted to apologise. No biggie. Probably won’t meet with him again, defo won’t meet with his mates (who called me a ‘gameshow host’).

I had a wander around town, but it was way too early to see kickout time so I went home.

After a few weeks of only speaking to DK on support group days…

…He’s now asking me for nights out and what I’m up to, and how was the restaurant that he’s seen on social media that I was at. Very lonely guy, despite living with his wife, clinging onto whoever will be mates with him, regardless of what little he has in common with them.

Conversation on Mondays revolves around what I’m having for tea, which is starting to grate in itself.

I mentioned in November that someone had told him I’d discussed his nagging phone calls in the support group. I’m pretty confident it was RH. He’s gay, and gay people can be gossips. Not exclusively, as I’ve found straight guys to be total bitches in this way. But RH is the type. Another member, RD, doesn’t like RH or DK, but we get on pretty well. We should do drinks. I’ve thrown it out to DP as well, but we’ve never done anything. I’m wondering if DP and RD think I’m too old. I think they’re both in their 20s. I’m in my 40s now. And I’m consumed with guilt that I never overcame my problems. But yeah, DK is annoying.

And I’m meeting him again tomorrow night.

What a year.

Well. 2022. First full year out of lockdown. Sadly, hundreds of people I know including some close friends turned out to be rampant anti-vaxxers, and I’ve made a point of steering clear of them. Some are still in my Facebook, although I’ve unsubscribed from them.

I feel like some friendships are hanging on by a thread. Back in 2020, in the first lockdown, there was a Black Lives Matter protest on Deansgate. I expressed my disgust about this – largely the breach of the lockdown, but also the irrelevance of it all. British Police kill virtually no-one. Yet a load of Brits jumped on the bandwagon and breached the lockdown, at a time when 100 people a day were dying of COVID.

I pointed this out on Facebook, describing my disgust, and a lot of people blocked me. I’ll never speak to them again. Some people kept me in their friends although I could tell they were ready to brand me a racist. Some did, then removed me.

Best female friend SW liked some comments criticising me over it, but then never mentioned it again. She’s got common sense though. She’s as appalled at, for example, anti-vaxxers, as I am.

Her husband, RW, is black. I like him. He’s a good guy. Very chilled. We rarely have much to say as we’ve not got that much in common, but I feel like since I uploaded that post on Facebook we’ve had less conversation than ever. I don’t want to be the one to ask if everything is okay. I shouldn’t have to. I’ve done nothing wrong. He’s still in my Facebook but there’s a possibility he’s put me on restricted profile.

SW and RW held a NYE party Saturday night. I went, and stayed for a few hours either side of midnight. I could sense some discomfort between myself and RW. I talked to him like I normally would. He was never a big talker, though. As is life, I felt like I got on better with the girls in the kitchen than the guys in the lounge watching Jools Holland, an atrociously dull programme featuring music that – for the most part – I cannot stand.

Not loong after midnight people started dropping out, and SW was shattered anyway. I left saying I was tired too, and I was, but I still went to Manchester to watch kickout time. Didn’t see a great deal happening, but always good to see girls not wearing a great deal.

Decent new year all in all.

I heard from DK, wishing me merry Christmas, and another for new year, and I said you too of course. DK is obviously a very lonely isolated guy with limited social skills and, dare I say it, limited intelligence too. He’s reaching out for connections with anyone who will offer them, including muggins here. I’ve now distanced myself and only hear from him by text occasionally. I have encouraged him, I think, to build social circles away from the support group. He doesn’t appear to have done anything to improve his situation though.

It’s a bank holiday so no group tonight, but next week I’ll have a lot to share with them.

DK situation is still absurd

I’ve mentioned DK from the support group was phoning me a lot over the summer, waffling about this and that. He was doing it with RH, also from the support group. I’ve spoken to DK about it myself, turns out he wasn’t struggling with anything in particular, he just had no clue that incessantly phoning people was going to piss people off. He just preferred phoning to texting.

I’ve discussed this in the group a few times. Eventually, last week, someone went and told him what I’d been saying.

I’d mentioned that DK had tried to set me up with some girl that he knows, GP. She has somewhat of an unusual name, but one you’d know from popular culture. Her first name you’d expect to begin with a J, but it actually starts with a G.

‘GP says you can add her,’ said DK. So of course, I was searching for her name the way you’d expect it to be spelled, and I couldn’t find it. DK never thought to tell me that I probably wouldn’t find her that way. Also, If she’s that bothered, why doesn’t she add me?

She eventually did. I was never interested, but I’d noticed her eyeing me up at DK and LK’s wedding last year, when she was there with her then boyfriend. So I knew what DK was trying. But whatever. We eventually got burgers, the 4 of us, which I enjoyed, and then we went to a Printworks bar where her son was a manager. We got drinks and played pool.

Decent afternoon out, but not fair on her.

But yeah, immediately after I’d shared this in the group, without naming DK, someone immediately figured out it was DK and went and told him.

‘Bone to pick with you,’ he said.

‘Oh, the sewing circle has been out in force already, has it?’ I asked. ‘For fuck’s sake.’

‘Were you under any pressure at all?’

‘You couldn’t put me under pressure,’ I said. ‘But you were trying to set me up.’

What I wanted to say, of course, was, If you want to be a counsellor, as you’re training for, you need to learn to read the room. Relax. Listen. Pay attention to people. Stop trying to use your training on your own mates, and don’t try to engineer situations. Let people deal with their own challenges and stop trying to use social scenarios to forward your own educational agenda. You will exhaust yourself.

But I’m too nice.

And after this, when I just wanted to get home and get away from him… My car – with which I was giving him a lift there and back—wouldn’t start. We had to call out a mate to jump start it. Then I had to get the battery replaced. All sorted now.

I’m hearing from DK a lot less these days. This week I again made sure I wasn’t in the same circle as DK on Monday nights so I could again mention that someone had grassed me to him and that we weren’t supposed to be doing that, as per the group’s rules. What’s said in the room is supposed to stay there. No doubt he’s griped about me in his own circle.

I went for a long-awaited lap dance.

Back in August I described how I wanted to go for a lap dance, and that I only felt right doing this in a suit, for some reason. One problem: I was fat as fuck. Hence, I spent nearly 3 months on on-again-off-again dieting, dragging my weight down from 90kg to around 72.

I now fit my suits again, just about, so last night was the planned night to go for a cheeky 2-girl lap dance, like the old days. Last time I’d been to a strip club seems to have been January ‘19. It was time for a shave (no barrier when they’re shoving their tits in your face) and a stroll around town.

After Silks shut down a few years ago, a new strip club has opened in the Lloyd St unit. Whisky Down resembles some kind of library study room. ID is required on entry, which is a little off putting considering the nature of the establishment. But whatever. £20 entrance fee too. I got in just after 10. The girl I spoke to wanted £80 for a solo dance! How in the good fuck can you justify that? No wonder the place was dead.

I told her I was going to go back to the bank to draw out more cash. She said they had a card reader. I said I didn’t want it showing up on my statement. She claimed it wouldn’t show as Whisky Down but as the holding company or whatever. No deal. She correctly guessed that I wouldn’t be back.

I drove over to Long Legs, drawing out more cash on the way. I got in there just after 11. £20 entry. The receptionist advised me to keep my coat on, which was weird. All the customers had their coats on too. The place was busy, lots of customers and not that many girls working. I got talking to one girl , a Scouse blonde who looked a lot like Amy, some girl I met in a club years ago (with whom nothing happened). I got a good old ‘naughty 40,’ a 2-girl dance with another Scouse blonde. There was some interaction between the girls – touching- but during the dance they were practically kneeing me in the balls and telling me how the train strikes were messing up their weekends. They were talking shop with each other, and to other girls as well, in the middle of the dance. I didn’t feel I was getting the kind of attention that a paid dance should give. No wonder these clubs keep going under.

Great boobs though.

I think perhaps that’s killed the fantasy, and that I should just go and talk to women in regular bars, where something might happen. You reckon? There’s a small issue of everyone being busy and broke and in relationships.

Well, I made it back into these trousers.

I’ve done it. Lots of veg smoothies and roasted sweet potatoes, and tons of flatulence, but as of last Saturday I can now wear the suit trousers again. I feel good. I’m still beating PBs in the gym, so I’ve not lost any strength, but I’m not lifting heavy. I expect if I try dumbbell press I’ll be shit at I, but that doesn’t matter. I’m down to 72kg. Those last couple of kgs were horrendous to get off.

Getting some interesting praise. Even MMM piped up. Not heard from her in years. Still fit, still probably a nutter.

Last night I put my suit on, it fit, and it was Halloween. I wasn’t not going to go out, obviously. So I did. Plenty to see. Lots of girls wearing next to nothing, dressed as cheerleaders etc., with contact lenses in. I didn’t go in anywhere, though. I dunno why.

I normally start a night out with a pre-bought energy drink but forgot to bring one, so shelled out in Tesco.

I also forgot to have a shave, so talked myself out of going for a long-awaited lap dance. If I do get a lap dance, I want tits in my face, and that means I want all the sensation, not the partial guard of stubble preventing it. Hence, I’m still going to fight on with weight loss and maybe get a dance next weekend.

I didn’t take any pictures other than this:

https://twitter.com/PatBatemanBlog/status/1586717853264363520

I’ve also got some events towards the end of the month and I want to be in good shape for them.

I’m now down to 75.3kg.

I’ve not tried my trousers on yet. I’ll be too busy to check tomorrow, but after Tuesday’s gym session I should have hit the target. I have my smoothies lined up. Either way, I’ll stay on track certainly for the next few days. I’m fantasising about a chicken tikka rogan josh though, possibly more than getting tits in my face at a strip club. It has taken way longer than a month, sadly, and I have eaten many other things than just veg. No real junk food. Worst thing I’ve had is probably energy drinks. Which wasn’t a good idea.

I spoke to DK about the situation; pulled for the first time in years

I’ve mentioned there was a period of time when DK was obsessively phoning me about nothing in particular. On Monday night I went out with him after the support group to Be At One, which DK insists on calling All Bar One, which is a bar on King St, but we’ve never been to it.

There was a girl in there I liked. Good dancer. Sleeve tattoo. I didn’t approach her. DK wanted to approach her for me. I made it clear he must NEVER do that. It would NEVER work.

Made a few attempts to lone-wolf into clubs midweek. Couldn’t get in anywhere except one place, and I couldn’t stand it so left.

Went to a club with a few mates on Friday. Actually made an approach – a fit dark haired 19-year-old called LW. Turned out she was steaming drunk. Kissed her. (First kiss since pre-pandemic.) She gave me her E-cig which I still have. (I don’t smoke.) Great arse. Then she wandered off to a group of black guys and pulled one of them, in front of me. What a slag.

One of his mates apologised to me. I went back to find my mates. I got home and she phoned me asking who I was. She had no recollection of meeting me at all, of sacking me off, or of getting with anyone else. ‘I don’t even like black guys,’ was her defence. I sent her a link to my Insta to see if she recognised me. She followed me back, but I can’t say I’m arsed about trying with her.

But I did it. I made that approach, by myself, and it worked. For a period.

It’s now a bank holiday Sunday. I’m seemingly not doing anything.

Oh, also, I’m down to 12’2’2, or 77.1-77.5kg. A little over 2kg to my target weight. Just a handful of grotesque smoothies to go.

RH has spoken to DK, other headaches

RH from the support group has done what I didn’t have the bottle to do: to say to DK, the obsessive phoner, that most people these days just text, they don’t really make phone calls unless it’s an emergency. RH said DK was really surprised, and apologised, hoping he hadn’t offended. No, reassured RH, but it’s probably a generational thing – DK is in his 50s.

It still doesn’t explain the sudden uptake in phone calls. I should have asked him about this. Maybe I will.

At DK’s wedding last year, one of his wife LK’s friends, GP – there with her boyfriend – was eyeing me up the whole weekend. She was okay-looking; I didn’t pay her much attention. Well, now she’s split up with said boyfriend, and DK has been trying to set me up with her. She smokes, has kids, is okay-looking and – much like her boyfriend, DK and LK – lives quite a different life to me. I couldn’t see her trying to blag into events in town or trying new quirky restaurants in the Northern Quarter. People from this side of Manchester have no clue how to operate in the City Centre, and it bores and frustrates me endlessly. In fact, DK, LK and GP all went out in the local bars around here this weekend, which tells me enough. I was supposed to meet up with the 3 of them on Saturday, but I’d been asked to go to the hospital to get my covid jab. I kinda stood the 3 of them up. I apologiesd to DK, but haven’t spoken to GP. I got there, and no-one knew anything about jabs being administered. I texted a colleague, and she’s given up taking jabs, so she didn’t know either. Clusterfuck. I’ll speak to DK about the situation. I must not put it off.

The frustrating thing is, people are not telling me the info I really need to know, because they lack basic IT skills. GP has a foreign name, a name that sounds like a popular name but is spelled totally differently. DK said that GP said I could add her, but I couldn’t find her. Eventually, she added me. If her names’s spelled a weird way, WHY NOT LET ME KNOW THAT? I’m honestly not that into her anyway.