When I said that at the Vogue I get to be who I really am and who I always wanted to be, I was not referring to my newly developed habit of kissing people I just met. Because I'm still not sure if that's me or not. I don't know who that is.
But who I am is an artist. I am a performer. And I am beginning to believe that my purpose in this life is to fully express myself (ideally to the benefit of others, but I'll start just by entertaining them). Who I want to be is graceful, beautiful, cared for, appreciated, supported, and just plain fun. I get to be all those things on Friday nights at the Vogue.
I get to dress up, get all dolled up Friday night in the cutest clothes. PVC, lace, leather, sheer fabrics that bare just a whisper of skin and teasing. When I was a dowdy, unattractive teen-ager I never dreamed I would get to look like this some day. Now when I walk through the door at the Vogue, I am transformed. People know who I am and they greet me. Sometimes long, affectionate hugs. Sometimes smiles and jokes. And if I don't know some one, I can easily meet them. Because this is a magical place where (unlike the world outside the Vogue) I am powerful and beautiful and the warmth of my smile, the depth of my stare and the roll of my hips is enough to draw people into my world. God I love that place.
The exact details of Friday night escape me. Let's see...nomadboi told me about his friend utforsker visiting from DC. He wanted to go the Vogue and the Mercury so I happily volunteered to meet him there and show him around. I introduced him around but he really didn't need introductions. Utforsker fit right in perfectly! Most definitely an experienced clubber. And a great escort to the Mercury as well. We slid right in without a membership or anything. I don't know if it's because we just looked like a couple of cool goths or maybe it was all the cleavage I was showing that night (rumor has it that cute chicks can cruise right in). ;)
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Ran into D and K and the Vogue. Tried very hard...really hard, not to kiss D. My fear was that it would become a habit and it would step on K's toes. But D has a habit of making himself irresistable to me and returning the kisses with ample gratitude. Damn him!
Oh yes, and finally stole one very quick kiss from S while her boyfriend's back was turned!!!
I did try to stick to my plan of staying sober. But the first time I danced I felt self conscious. And I knew that a drink or two would take care of that and allow me to have a good time. Remembering what I read on the SeaGoth board about pitchers being only $6.75, I convinced butterflake to split a pitcher with me. The cost after tip: $8. We split it, thus getting me drunk for a paltry $4. How cool is THAT? Granted Henry's beer tastes like...ummm...nasty cheap beer. But as long as I can find some one at the Vogue to split a pitcher with, I can drink cheap. Note to my Vogue friends: If you see me walk in, let me know if you want to split a pitcher!! At least until I get a job and can afford real drinks.
Floor work practice did not go well. Although one amusing thing did happen. D and BDMS_teddy followed over to the stage to watch my new floorwork. Well as I got up to the pole I saw a man leave his position over at the far end of the club and seat himself directly in front of the stage. It's as if he knew I was the girl who does the pole show and he wanted a good seat or something. Cool to see some one anticipate your work like that.
Anyway I did only a couple of pole twirls and launched into floorwork. But something was wrong. When I practice at home, it's slow and sensual and graceful. But for some reason (maybe the fast beat of the music?) I did the routine SUPER fast! I think I was just excited or drunk or going with the music or something. I can only imagine how sloppy that might have made it. But worse, it pulled a muscle in my neck. I still can't turn my head all the way to the right. Bad bruises on my right knee too. Minor bruising on my elbows as well from laying flat on my back and trying to arch my back up into the air while leaning on my elbows. Might be some small bruises on my back as well, but I haven't checked yet.
You know at some point in the night, utforsker and I were having a conversation about the meaning behind "Fight Club." Coping mechanisms and the portrayal of such. This goes right along with my desire to have brain cells stimulated. I felt a few fire up. I think I often experience this when I talk to seattlesque as well. But sadly, guys, the club is not a place to put my brain cells to use. I'm there to express myself emotionally, sexually, physically and share in your expression as well. Too bad, because there are opportunities for intellectual discussion. Just not when the music is so loud and I'm riding a nice buzz that makes me think grinding up against a pole is sexy. Yeah...definately another time!
Oh, I almost forgot. K took pictures of me dancing. Can't wait to see them.