I am not quite as graceful as two strippers working that room before closing for that last 20 dollar lap dance to pay their cab home…

But I am a romantic, because when rejecting those strippers I say “I don’t want to make you dance for me for 20 dollars, you’re worth more than that (even though they aren’t), I do want to make an honest woman out of you…and make you breakfast every morning for the rest of your life….because you’re better than this and I feel like we have a connection”…

To which they say “so you don’t want a dance”…and walk away…like it never happened…leaving me heartbroken and alone…only to go back night after night telling them the same thing…all while they pretend to not know me….or maybe they don’t remember the fat fucking Mexican who is romantic with them every fucking day of the week…and they are actually just too good to really bother remember…blocking out the memories of their whoring….to which I angrily, maybe even hurt or heartbrokenly respond by paying the 50 dollars for a blowjob…you know to really allow them to understand the true meaning of romance…

Here are some stepLINKs in the still morning where I am…

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