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.

Get Fit for a Liverpool Strip

I’m going to an event in Liverpool around the start of May. I’m planning, after the event, to visit another strip club like I did in October. I’d like to be able to fit into my suit trousers by this time, so I’m planning on eating tons of veg in soup form between now and then. Aldi’s Super Six deal will sort me out. I know the target weight I need to be. I need to lose 6 kilos in 7 weeks. Should be a piece of piss. I’d also like to beat some gym records.

This time the venue will probably be X in the City.

House music and dead ends

It was DK’s birthday recently, and he had a party with a load of people from the support group, including RH who I’m pretty sure gossiped about me (and about my share about DK’s incessant mithering) to DK himself. Awkward. I ducked out as I’d double booked, thankfully.

Went to see a DJ with some mates. Got talking to some girl, a stoner who had autism. Dark hair, quite fit. I certainly tried. She was telling me she went off the rails a few years ago and turned into a massive slag, having foursomes etc. Interesting.

Eventually she told me she had a boyfriend. Right.

She gave up social media as she also had a son and didn’t have time for online stuff. I told her it was for the best. So many fallouts are because of social media. I’m the opposite, constantly trying out new platforms as soon as I hear about them. And I have no kids.

Good night, I suppose.

Went to a club night in Manchester last night.

Still having mad anxiety. I turned up on my own, hugely overdressed, and tried not to be awkward. Some guy asked me if I was a narc. AD was there, who is now single and still gorgeous. Couple of years older than me but doesn’t look it at all. Chatted for a bit but got nowhere. Same with a couple of others. House music nights are rarely pulling nights, but when I do pull, the girl is usually tapped usually tapped.

As for AD, that boat probably sailed the last time she was single when I didn’t make my move then either. 2012, if I recall.

Best mate SW couldn’t make the club night, but my mate PT and his girlfriend CVB could. Great to catch up with them, and see some amazing music and singers. My anxiety was through the roof, though. Felt like all the prior-lockdown therapy I’d got from the NHS went out the window.

Still, a good night.

Discussion with Support Group Staff

After last week’s email to the support group’s head office, I got a phone call from DR, who used to be a group member but is now an employee at head office. He was really gutted that I’d been put in a position to have to write the email, describing me as a stalwart of the group. I didn’t name DK or RH, nor RD who was supposedly emailing head office himself.

I described people smoking outside the building – DR agreed it was bang out of order and he’ll pass a message on to tell them not to do it.

I described the building being too full and attendee numbers being too high for the location. DR reckons the numbers aren’t that high, and they’ve been higher in that venue. Still, they might use the main space in the building not just the smaller rooms, it just means people going to the toilet and interrupting people etc.

I mentioned that there’s a lot of waffle at the start of the session about planned football matches and this and that – for those of us who just want to get on with the session, it’s not particularly helpful. DR assured me it will be changed.

As for the DK situation – his incessant waffling and badgering me for my time – it’s happening outside of group time, so not something the group can comment on. Not their responsibility. But at least they know.

RD hasn’t emailed head office, DR tells me, although he wouldn’t tell me anyway due to confidentiality.

As for people gossiping about what has been shared in round 3, it’s a breach of the rules. It’ll be fed back to the group, where the facilitators – ironically including DK and RH – will read out the notice to the group… telling them not to reference people’s shares outside of the group.

It’s a clusterfuck. I’m sticking with this other online group for the moment.

Away from the group, I’m feeling really lonely. It’s an emotion that I can’t get away from. I never have been able to. I know, through experience, though, that even if I did meet up with this friend or that friend, that the feeling that something is missing – the hollowness, the inferiority – it wouldn’t go away. It’s not the absence of accessible friends that is the sole issue (although that’s part of it). Going out on my own isn’t particularly helping. Seeing everyone else do what I what to be doing (parts of it, at least) is what hurts.

That said, I’m in my fucking 40s. Do I want to be hanging around in bars? I want a relationship. Is lone wolfing to Manchester on a Saturday helping me? Is it fuck. But what else is there? I don’t want to do anything else.

Did a few bars with RS.

He’s quite a conversationalist. I’m not so. I can write my thoughts til the end of the Earth, but standing in a bar and forming a conversation with another person has taken years of hard work. I just lose concentration. Plus, I still have approach anxiety, so I might be able to talk to my mates, but I still feel like I won’t be good enough to talk to this girl or that girl.

The problem RS faces is that he’s Asian, I believe Pakistani origin. A lot of women just aren’t interested. Is that racism? Or are people just not into that in the Northern Quarter? Would he be better off in a club where there are more Asians, like LIV? But he tries. He’ll chat to people without a moment’s hesitation. I kinda follow his lead. I chatted to a couple of girls here and there. Always feels like such effort though. Went nowhere.

I feel like this guy a lot of the time. Came across this on Insta.

Girls of Instagram: Elena

God, this girl is incredible. Find her at Whisky Down at the weekend.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CAqSCD8ht6K/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/CnK1tRXtqac/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/CpPj9DKI_ZJ/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/CpmKC4uoaQ2/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/CqyWhhQI3Gc/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/CrBp5ELIbng/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/CrMD8AzI0mx/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/CrQyEAbgYkD/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/CrjU1XWAmoM/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/p/Crocp4eALS0/?hl=en

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A post shared by LONDON GLAMOUR BOUDOIR PHOTOGRAPHER 🍑 (@mysexyshoot)

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Extortion at Whisky Down

Hmm. How do I describe this week’s strip club trip without exposing myself?

Back in November I went to Whisky Down, a high-end strip club in Manchester. At the time, the girl I’d spoken to – short with blonde hair, kinda like Haley Spades – wanted £80 per girl for a 2-girl dance. I told her I was going to the cash machine, then I didn’t come back.

I allow myself these visits when something in particular happens. That time, I’d lost 18kg and could fit into my suits. I deserved a treat. Over the months, I’ve thought, fuck it, £160 for a 2-girl dance in a smart strip club, just one time, isn’t going to break the bank. I’ve worked for this. I felt prepared to pay that much. I’d followed the club on Insta for ages, and found a few of the girls who worked there, and followed their accounts too – on my eponymous Instagram. One of them I particularly liked, a mixed race girl with a lot of surgeries, and wanted her to be one of the girls.

I needed a reason to go in.

A few weeks ago, I achieved something on my eponymous blog. I won’t go into much detail about this. But this was the reason. I rolled in some time around midnight. £20 entry. I got a soft drink and did a bit of scouting around. Some girl pitched me, but I ducked out to the gents. When I came out, I made a beeline for the girl I wanted.

“I’m not going to bullshit you,” I said. “I follow you on Instagram.” That wasn’t my opening line, but you get the drift.

She nodded over to her mate and pointed to me. “Instagram.”

I ended up giving the girl my eponymous blog card, so she knows exactly who I am. I’m like the Icarus of anonymous blogging right now, flying too close to the sun, and potentially getting burned. She asked if I was going to blog about her. I said, not a chance.

Well, not on that blog.

Mixed Race Surgery Girl wanted £200 for a 15 minute 2-girl dance. That’s £40 more that I was quoted by the Haley Spades lookalike in November. I didn’t have that kind of cash, and didn’t want to part with it either. Their prices just keep getting dearer and dearer, and their customers – the British public – keep getting poorer and poorer! How do these places remain open?! HOW?!

I told her I was going to the bank, and I’d be back. I did neither. Instead, I went home and had an angry wank over her Instagram.

I had considered going back to Long Legs to get VIP from them. I had a great dance of a Perfect Skin Girl a few weeks ago and I’ve been ruminating and perhaps obsessing over the VIP treatment she pitched. But I’d fucked about so much earlier on that evening that it was getting too close to closing time, so I bailed.

I still owe myself a dance for this eponymous achievement, but I’m busy with stuff for about 2 months. Oh well.

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.