There's No Crazy Like Stripper Crazy

They had met when he was at a strip club with some friends and she sat down next to him. "You're gay, aren't you?" Because he was being polite to the girls and was wearing a clean shirt, she had come to that conclusion. That was their very first interaction. She sat talking with him for at least an hour before he said "Shouldn't you be working?" and the trance broke and she went to work the room.

When he was putting on his coat to leave, she ran over and asked for his number. Stunned, and not exactly thinking about the situation, he gave it to her. Two days later she called and they went on a casual date. "Dude, she's a stripper. You have to see her again," was the advice his friend had to offer. "I know it can only turn out bad, but you have to."

She called him from IHOP, inviting him to join her and some of her friends for dinner. Pancakes were always a favorite of his, and their company was perfectly enjoyable. Three of her coworkers and one of their boyfriends were there. "We're all going back to my place, wouldn't you like to join in?" asked her friend, while becoming quite friendly with his thigh.

The last time that they were on anything resembling a date he joined her at a bar to see a band. One of her coworkers was there, moonlighting as an escort and trying to set up an appointment with a gentleman at another table. She decided he was not worth the hassle he was giving her and rejoined the group. The gentleman was slightly irate and came to express his displeasure. Before he knew it, he and the gentleman were being escorted out by bar security and met by police at the door.

When she left a note on his car, parked at the grocery store, along with a single rose, he decided that getting a restraining order was called for. Thus, with a shot at being included forever in the annals of guy hood, he ended his great experiment in dating a stripper.