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Friday, September 30, 2011

Chapter 15, or Divorce and strippers


             On February 24th [2009], a Tuesday morning, The Ex called me.  His lawyers had informed him that judgment came back and our divorce was final as of February 11th.  He was so casual.  It was like he was telling me he was feeding the cats or doing his laundry, not that our marriage was officially, legally and in all other ways over. 
            My mind started racing and my head started spinning.  I had been divorced for 13 days and didn’t know it.  (I probably would’ve made Valentine’s Day a whole lot more interesting if I had known.)  I was divorced.  It was real.  And none of the redecorating or burning stuff or cleansing or sexcapades had done anything to make hearing it easier.  I still missed my husband, I still missed our life and I still missed my cats.  What happened to the man who had fought so hard for me?  Why had it been so easy for him to walk away?  Was it because of that girl from his work?  Of course, I didn’t have any answers. 
            So, after his call (what a great way to wake up) I cried.  I wallowed.  Then I had a brilliant idea.  Divorce Party.  Vegas.  But I’ll get to that later.

            My friend Savanna works at a cigar bar.  She texted me that Seduction!  Exotic Men of Magic was going to be there.  A combination magic and strip show.  Sounded like perfect timing to me!
            When I got there, she told me she had two other friends there for me to hang out with so I wouldn’t be by myself.  They were Bill and Jackie.  Before the show started the Men of Magic walked around with pamphlets describing the different kinds of lap dances we could buy.  Bill bought the most expensive one for Jackie and me.  It was $100 and you got to go on stage and get a lap dance from all four guys, a picture with them, a tee shirt signed by them and a backstage pass.  (“Backstage” being a visit to their trailer.  Classy, right?)
            The show started and there was some mediocre magic followed by some mediocre dancing.  When it was time for our lap dances Jackie didn’t want to go on stage, so I went by myself.  I had never had a lap dance before so I was pretty excited.  I don’t know how they’re supposed to go but these guys put my hands in their pants and their heads between my legs and basically dry humped me.  It was hot and hilarious at the same time.  One of the guys was so young I actually thought it might be illegal for him to give me a lap dance.  And I wasn’t sure if I could get an STD from hand to stripper-dick contact, but that was one of the things going through my mind.
            When the show was over I got my picture and my tee shirt and instead of having them sign the tee shirt, the margaritas in me thought it would be funnier to have them sign my chest.  One of the stripper-magicians took me “backstage” and tried to bone me in the trailer.  I didn’t know where the hell that guy’s dick had been and I didn’t even want to think about how many condoms it would take to protect me from whatever he might be carrying, so I politely declined.
            It was no Chippendales, but it’s still a pretty fun way to remember the day I found out I was divorced.

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