Went to Liverpool yesterday.

Was busy during the day. Then I wanted to try a strip club. Waited until 10pm. Had been to Rude back in October, which was a disappointment, so figured I’d try one of the other clubs. I hit a bar first, Coyote Ugly, which was a tip and their toilets had no soap. Modo was better. I remember coming here in ‘09. Good to see it still going.

X in the City was nearby, so gave that a whirl. £10 in. I gave them £140 for a 2-girl dance and they didn’t even touch each other. Mugged off. Oh well. Great boobs though.

I still had The Horn. Something must be done. I have a thing for Mixed Race Surgery Girl, one of the dancers at Manchester’s Long Legs, so I checked her insta to see if she was in. She was. I drove in from Liverpool. £10 on door. Got a dance with her and some Eastern European Blonde with reading glasses. Just a £40 dance, not VIP. I’d spent enough bastard money that day. Anyway, the girls put their boobs together in my face at the end. Great stuff. MRSG was asking how I knew she’d be in, as she’d been away. I reminded her of her own Insta update. She encouraged me to get in touch when I was coming in next time.

This is really sad, but it’s the only physical contact I’ve had with a woman, beyond hugging my mum and my platonic girl mates like SW, in months. Kinda difficult to meet people when nobody on Tinder wants to reply and nobody I know can get out to do anything. Best girl mate SW has been out recently but it was always at times that I was busy, like last week. Last night she wasn’t out. Tonight she’s at a wedding. It’s now a bank holiday and nobody I know seems to be doing anything.

Back in March I blogged that I was going to try to each as much Aldi Super 6 veg as possible to lose 6 kilos, to fit into some suit trousers. Sadly, I was 2.2kg off the night before I went to Liverpool. I’m still 1.5kg off now. So, fuck it, I’ve had a curry. I’m going to be a slob for a bit and eat what I want, then I’m going to get back on it again.

I really should leave the strip clubs alone, though.

Let down by a mate, Baby Platinum and Long Legs

A while back, I went to an event where I met a few people. We all swapped numbers and had a Whatsapp chat going. One guy kept in touch with me. We’ll call him Axel. He was out of touch for a few weeks, then popped up asking to do drinks. We met a couple of times, trying this bar and that bar, but the nights out were… okay.

Last night Axel texted asking what I was doing. I suggested suggesting Spinningfields, he suggested 8. I got there a little late, then he straight up told me he didn’t fancy going out. I acted like I was still keeping the conversation going, but I knew I was done with him. Another flaky mate found on an online group. Bullshit.

So that was shit. I decided I’d treat myself to a lap dance after achieving a bit of this and that over the last few weeks. I tried Baby Platinum first, although I deliberated it and walked past a few times. Then the doormen scanned my ID on entry. I think it was £15 cover. They explained there was no contact during the dance, which immediately told me I’d have to walk back out. The girls wanted £235 per girl for a dance, so £470 for a 2-girl dance, without any body contact! Utter bullshit. Their prices are rising faster than a supermarket trip in Caracas. Last time I was in, just under a year ago, they wanted £160 for 2 girls. I’d walked out then.

Last night, at that point, I went to the gents, then walked out saying I had to ‘meet my mate,’ which was also bullshit.

I drove to Long Legs, getting in at 1:30. A sign on the bar explained that all dances were £10 and we should let bar staff know if the girls are charging more. A private VIP dance with one girl would be £80, which was technically what I paid last time. No sign of Mixed Race Surgery Girl tonight. The bar was too cold for girls to be working in when they’re in lingerie. I watched a guy get a dance from across the room, and again, there was no body contact between the customer and the dancer. I left after 20 minutes.

Loads of strip clubs have closed down, and a load more will do if the rules are getting stricter. Not to mention, porn is free and that content is becoming harder. So why would people go to a strip club if they can no longer get tits smashed in their faces?

What I really want to say in this blog post is something quite separate. My mental health has dipped. Practically, life is reasonably good, aside from shady people flaking out on me and having no social life despite living in a massive city. Money is okay for the moment. The house needs the odd thing doing, but it’s reasonably under control. I’m just cripplingly lonely. I can stamp it down and get on with it most days. It’s just a bit tougher at the moment.

A Night of Strip Clubs

Last week I managed to go a few days without having a wank. It’s a huge achievement for me. The goal of this was to make a planned strip club visit more enjoyable.

Saturday I went to an event in Liverpool, featuring a lot of cosplay. Think girls in kinky outfits. Some were fit. Then I had a wander around the city, trying a few bars etc.

Strip clubs, in my experience, aren’t busy before 10pm, so I toured a few bars for a bit, watching a bit of UFC (on at a reasonable time, for once) in Beer Engine.

I’ve had my eye on Rude for a while, a newer strip club, and the UK’s largest. I’d noticed Love Island’s Hanna Eliza in some of their promo videos. I’d messaged her account to see if she still danced there but got no reply. I waited til 10 and walked in. £10 entry. The place was dead. There were a handful of girls in there but none floated my boat. A couple approached me (eventually). I asked about Hanna: she used to work there before Love Island. I left after 5 mins.

Then I drove back to Manchester.

Back in April I’d gone to Obsessions on Whitworth St, paid £12 entry, and walked out, not willing to pay £160 for a 2-girl dance.

In more recent months, I’d thought, fuck it, I’ve got money, there were plenty of gorgeous girls that night in April, perhaps I’d shell out. I kept an eye on the Insta page. I’d noticed a Big Natural Tit Arabic Girl (BNTAG) on the page that I’d taken a liking to. I decided to drop in. This time it was £15 on the door. A Curly Brown Haired Girl pitched me. She asked for a dance; I told her I go for a different kind of thing. To her credit, she asked if anyone was my type, and I noticed BNTAG across the room. CBHG brought BNTAG over and we talked about the event I’d been to, comics, movies etc. She was a fan of Studio Ghibli. I showed my age by telling her I’d seen Spirited Away at the cinema when I was at uni. We had a good chat.

Then she asked if I wanted a dance. I told her ages ago I’d got a 2-girl dance there years ago (12, to be exact). Was that something I’d be allowed?

£160 for 15 mins. It was agreed. I picked a big titted brown haired girl to join us, and we went to a booth.

They were both really good looking but they didn’t even touch each other. BNTAG told me that next weekend she’d be working over Halloween, and that there’ll be a lot of kinky outfits being worn. She said she always does well when she puts on the sch**lgirl outfit. Sounds great, but if they aren’t going to touch each other, is it worth the money? I didn’t say this, obviously. They did more than touch last time.

Normally strip clubs play ‘seductive’ hip hop and r’n’b, But that night the music was eclectic, including pop drivel like S-Club’s Reach. Not the most fitting track when you’re getting some (admittedly impressive) boobs shoved in your face.

So yeah, I splurged a lot. Then I went home and had a wank.

Finally got a dance of Mixed Race Surgery Girl

I tried organising a night out for last night, but nobody could make it, so I sacked it off and went for a lap dance instead.

Back in early June, I’d been to Whisky Down, because I’d had a thing for this Mixed Race Surgery Girl, a stunner with big fake boobs. The prices she’d been asking for were ridiculous, though, so I left it and didn’t go back in. I had, however, given MRSG my eponymous blog card, which makes *this* anonymous blog post a little risky.

I’d planned to just go into Long Legs, which was the only strip club in Manchester that didn’t try to rip me off. It was for the same reason, though: passing a milestone on my eponymous blog a few months ago. Well, same reasons plural: I noticed on Insta that MRSG was working there now. Last time, in May, Perfect Skin Girl had been trying to get me into VIP. I’ve been mulling it over ever since, and accumulating cash should I go for it.

I had a shave, then necked an energy drink on the way down there, which gave me the jitters a bit, with a wad of cash in my back pocket.

I got to Long Legs around midnight. £10 in. No ID needed. I went straight to the bathroom, spotting MRSG across the room. I came out and got a soft drink. A Blonde Scouse Girl approached me, good looking, good boobs. We chatted a little bit, she asked about a dance, I asked for a 2-girl dance. She offered the £40 2-girl, or the £160 VIP. The same VIP deal PSG had been trying to tempt me into. No sign of PSG, but I asked BSG a little more about the £160 dance. 15 mins in VIP upstairs. I agreed to it, and I asked if there was a girl called MRSG. She went to get her. MRSG remembered me, and my name, and that I’d promised to go to the cash machine then never came back.

Awks.

I said I’d been planning to spend a certain amount more than I had done before, but not as much as she’d asked for then. Still, I was about to pay her.

We all went upstairs and MRSG asked about blogging a little bit. We talked a little bit, then the dance started. The VIP room was shared with other customers and other dancers, though, which I thought wasn’t particularly fair. I used to be able to get booth dances – in long-since-closed clubs – where they’d pull a curtain across so it was a bit more private.

There was plenty of arse slapping and boob touching between the girls, and they were eager to tell me that they were bisexual. No boob sucking or kissing between the girls, though. It’s not like the old days any more.

I blame the Tories.

Still, the girls smothered me in their great fake tits.

Then I went home, and… well, you can guess the rest.

Long Legs for a Treat

Recently I spent a month of my life being a gym hermit and seeing no-one and doing nothing, and, on finishing this, had tried to treat myself by dipping into a few strip clubs.

I mentioned I’d tried Whisky Down, Baby Platinum then Obsessions in recent weeks. All 3 were charging astronomical amounts that were totally unreasonable, £160 for a 2-girl dance. All 3 times, I walked out not having paid for a dance at all. I’d bought only a drink and the entrance fee.

I can always rely on Long Legs to charge a simple £40 for a 2-girl dance. So that’s where I went. £10 entry. No ID required. £3 for a pineapple juice. There weren’t that many girls working, and the club was busy. Basic economics: if you overcharge, you out-price the customers. That’s why Obsessions, Platinum and Whisky Down were all dead.

I picked a girl I liked, young, dark hair, perfect skin, big natural boobs. Possibly mixed race. I asked for the £40 dance. She said she could, but if I wanted, I could go for the £160, go upstairs where it’s more private and the dance would be more explicit. Said I didn’t have the money. She said pay on card. I said I can’t do that. (When I first came to Long Legs in ‘09 I paid on card and it said ‘Long Legs’ on my statement. I couldn’t believe I’d been that moronic.) So we went for the £40. The other girl was nice, curly hair, fake boobs. There was some boob-touching between the girls, but not much. No grinding or leaning back onto me. But at least this time they didn’t have full blown conversations between the other dancers. Or complain about train strikes. They gave me the attention, putting all four boobs in my face. A kiss on each cheek marked the end of the dance.

I had a wander around the club for a bit, checking out the goods. Perfect Skin Girl asked me again if I fancied the VIP treatment. I said sorry.

Thing is, I’ve got a 5-figure ISA. I’ve got enough money. I keep forgetting how much I’ve got. Too used to growing up broke as fuck. Now, a £160 dance, plus £10-20 entry, plus a soft drink that’s less than a fiver, it’s not going to break the bank. I could do it. And what else am I spending it on? I’ve got minimal friends any more, most of whom are broke anyway, I’ve got DK mithering the piss out of me still, nobody else is putting any effort in – when I ask people, they don’t want to do anything other than dodgy old-man pubs. AL and KL, whom I’ve been to a few house music clubs with, haven’t replied.

I may as well.

I wish I’d asked Perfect Skin Girl if she was a regular there, or if I could have her socials. She might have said no, but if you don’t ask…

More strip club woes

I mentioned 2 weeks ago that I’d gone to a strip club and walked out not having had a dance. well, tonight I went back to Obsessions over the road from Deansgate Locks. I’d been in 2011 and paid £60 for a 2-girl dance. It was good, with much stronger content than you get these days.

So, tonight, I went into town, got to Obsessions, paid the £12 entrance fee, and saw that I was the only patron. I got talking to some fit European girl with big tits. Like in Baby Platinum last time, they wanted £80 each for a 2-girl dance. I told them I didn’t have that money. They gave me the whole ‘pay on card’ spiel and practically begged me not to leave the venue.

But I did. For Deansgate Locks, I expected a fairer price. Perhaps I should have seen if they’d barter. I just don’t have the mindframe for that.

I drove over to Long Legs, where I’d been for a dance last November. When I got to the street, though, I found I was losing motivation. I didn’t have the horn any more, it was starting to rain, and just didn’t feel in the mood. So I drove around a bit more, checking out the women, realising I was over twice their age now. Self pity started to creep in, as it does more and more these days. So did the Long Legs’ 2am closing time.

I went home without getting a dance.

Meanwhile, DK is still mithering me about nights out, but he is incredibly dull and I can’t face responding to him. Gonna see him next week though so I’ve just texted him now.

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.

Back to Long Legs

After moving house I decided the time was right to treat myself to a trip to Long Legs. The strip club has the best looking women out of all the strip clubs in Manchester, and is really the only one I’d go to these days.

I’d driven into town just after 10pm parking in the Northern Quarter, intending to have a wander before going into the Chinatown club. I took a detour past Silks, which appeared to be shut. I’ve just read it’s licence was suspended in 2017.  On the way I bumped into schoolmate AE, who was having a bit of a reunion with some of our year in The Slug and Lettuce on Albert Square. Also there was AQ, who was my best mate in school but I lost touch with in around ’06 due to him being a permanently weird bastard, doing endless Columbo impressions and generally being a massive cockblock.

I left them as they weren’t staying late, told them I was going to film some fights and send them to the M.E.N, which wasn’t a total lie- I would have done if I’d have seen any. I got into Long Legs at quarter past 11; it was busy but there weren’t many girls. I got talking to one blonde scouser with fake but appealing boobs. I asked why so many scousers worked in lap dancing clubs in Manchester- it’s so nobody knows them. Pretty obvious when you think about it. I asked about a 2-girl dance- she said I could go upstairs for £140 and get some kind of special dance, but I said I didn’t have the money. So a ‘naughty 40’ it was. I picked another blonde with big tits and they gave me a nice dance, albeit a short one. They touched each other and got naked- lots of breast groping and ass slapping, but to go any further they still wanted VIP money.

I might go back and do that one day. Maybe after I’ve lost a bit of weight and can fit into my suit again. Will need to stop mullering Galaxy chocolate bars though, therein lying the problem.

Seeing as HMRC paid up, I went for a lap dance

So, mentioned a few weeks ago that Tax Credits are back in my life. I treated myself to a trip to Long Legs strip club in Chinatown last night.

Town was dead, so Long Legs was never going to be that busy. I rolled in just after 10pm and got talking to a fit blonde scouser with big boobs. I described how I was having a private celebration due to my finances improving. She described how she’d also had problems- she’d had to pay back a huge amount. I asked for a 2-girl dance- she was trying to blag me into ‘going upstairs’ with another girl for £170, which sounds dear, but a girl there had tried to ask me for £250 a few years ago.

Suffice to say, both times I stuck with the ‘naughty fourty.’ This time the other girl wasn’t as fit but still had great boobs. There was plenty of touching, but not much else.

Give it a few months and I might go for that £170 dance. I might.

Long Legs has gone Downhill

 

Back in September I visited lap dancing club Long Legs (blog here) and had a really good 2-girl dance on a Friday night. The next night I went to a swanky club (blog here) and pulled a fit blonde girl. I reckon getting the dance, having that physical contact and time spent talking to the girl, helped me to approach the blonde in the club the next night. (I was also fucked on MDMA, but that’s a separate issue.)

I thought it was about time I tried that again. I arranged to go back to the club on a Saturday- Saturday just gone- and I kept the Friday free. I got into Long Legs on Friday night at about midnight.

It was dead. There were only 4 dancers on and a handful of customers. I got talking to Georgie, a hot blonde scouser with big tits. She kept asking me to buy her a drink. She wouldn’t offer me a naughty 40 with another girl, like I had last time, so I just got a £10 dance off her. It was a nice dance but didn’t go on long and I didn’t have time to get hard. I might go back on a Saturday some time next month, when I’m doing a midweek night out.

Anyway. I went out the next night to the same swanky club I’d been to after the last trip to Long Legs. I got nothing. I approached a few people but they didn’t want to talk. Saw a few celebs. Nothing major. Well, I tried. I think Sertraline is helping but I’m not convinced it’s strong enough. I’ve requested a repeat prescription. Doctor last advised me to come back in April, in the appointment a month ago. So I might ask him to up the dosage.