We get a lot of crap on this blog for being superficial and caring only about looks. I feel that I could make a pretty strong case for how that perception is false, and, give numerous actual examples. I truly do think if I had the chance to chat with any one of our accusers that I could sway them to look past the surface of this blog and see its depth and wisdom.
Instead I am going to make this perception worse with this post. Last weekend I went to the Slightly Stoopid concert up at Harry O's in Park City. It was a great show. Nice long set, good crowd, great mosh pit at appropriate times, a very good show. I have never been to a concert at Harry O's before this. Harry O's has Go-Go dancers. I didn't even know that Go-Go dancers were a real thing.
Go-Go dancer (gō′gō′ däns'er)
-a dancer, often semi-nude, performing erotic movements to rock music, usually on the bar, tables, or stage of a club or pub.
Sure, I saw Coyote Ugly, but the real chicks in this club put those PG-13 Go-Go's in Coyote to shame. I found myself mesmerized. For hours they danced. They do it for tips, I guess. I'm sure Harry O's employs them to a degree. They are not strippers. No my friends, they are Go-Go dancers.
There were 4 or 5 of them. I noticed that most of them were brown-skinned beauties. Which was very exciting for me, because I like the dark meat. I got flattened in the mosh pit, and after my fellow moshers yanked me up off the floor, I figured I needed a little air. I lifted my sweaty head and looked back and there I saw her. The Go-Go of my dreams. She was white and the beautiful brownies paled in comparison to her, the palest of them all.
I sort of had one of those slow motion events where she moved at regular speed and everything else around her, including me, moved in slow motion. This effect finally ended when a drop of sweat slowly dropped through my line of vision.
She was beautiful.
I stared for a while. I didn't dare get too close, because I don't know what Go-Go dancer etiquette is. I mean, if she smiles at me do I have to give her a dollar? I just stood there and watched her. I wondered if what I was doing was creepy, but I glanced around and noticed that lots of people were staring at her. Forget the rock stars (well Punk turned Reggae stars) on the stage... the Go-Go's owned the attention of the club. As she moved to the rhythm of the song Collie Man up on that bar, her presence was unbelievably commanding.
She had long blond hair. It looked like she had extensions, though I'm no hair expert. She was dressed in pretty much a strapless or string bikini. She had fake boobs and on her stomach she had two unrecognizable tattoos. Also there were like a constellation of piercings with little diamonds in them in her stomach (I had never seen that before). The piercings and tattoos added to the artwork that was her mid-section. I stared and thought, "This is what words like 'sexy' were invented for."
I actually had to do a fast head shake to rip my attention away from her. I went back to the show, but at least once every minute or so I would glance back to find her.
I have seen beautiful women before. Even scantily clad ones. I marveled at the seeming superior power this one seemed to have over the other beautiful women before her. Maybe it was the dancing... her milkshake, was definitely the type that brings all the boys to the yard... me included.
I went back to the bar to get water and heard someone call her "Jamie". I caught myself once looking at her and making an effort to only look at her face. With the foolish idea that perhaps she would notice and think to herself, "There's a guy who isn't looking only at my body, he must be different, he must be interested in me. I should date him, adopt his belief system, marry him, make some babies with him, grow old and learn to play golf with him so we stay fit and healthy in our old age." (or something like that)
She got on stage and grinded with the lead singer, Miles, for a while, and I actually felt a little jealous. Jealous of the rock star, pfff! The show ended, and I went home. I was never even closer than 10 feet to her. She didn't even know that I existed.
It has been a whole week and I have had Jamie the Go-Go dancer on my mind ever since. It is driving me a little crazy. Logic kicks in every once in a while. Thoughts like, she isn't even Mormon. She is so far out of my league. She's probably 25 and only dates 40 year olds with Maserati's. Mostly though I suspend the reality of it and daydream about us getting together. Jake and Jamie has a nice ring to it don't ya think?
My daydreams are not as pornographic as you would imagine either. In fact they mostly involve her joining the Church as a result of our young love. In my mind that same smile she blasted out over the dancing horde at Harry O's is on her face as she comes up out of the water at her baptism. And, I don't imagine her mostly naked like she was, no she's wearing hoodies and has her hair in a ponytail and is riding on the back of my motorcycle holding onto me tighter than she really needs too. Listen to me... AAAARRRRGGGGG!
Seriously, it's like I am in middle school again. I don't get it. I think all sorts of girly thoughts, things like the conversations we could have, and the walks we could go on, and the books we could read together. (okay, forget the books thing, I never read. Replace that with "movies") I think about how amazed she would be at what a great guy I am, how different I am from all the other men vying for her attention, and how I love her no matter what. Even though... there is probably no truth to any of those statements. I told Calvin about my mental struggle. He just laughed, but admits, he's been here, too.
What is it that a look, one single look at a woman can drive me so uncharacteristically insane? Is it lust? I am not thinking about all the dirty things we could do if we were porn stars. No, I am actually smitten, fantasizing about our future together. I am in deep smit. I don't think we would have anything in common. Our friends wouldn't get along. Even if a chance was offered it wouldn't work out, we are from two completely different worlds, right? Maybe that's part of the attraction? The fact that she is so different from me. Maybe. Yet regardless of all that reality, I still can't get her off my mind.
She isn't even real, really. There will never be an "us". Yet here I sit, tortured... powerless against her spell. Her sexy sexy dripping-in-sex-appeal spell.
The worst part is, I am sitting here writing this post thinking about how stupid this all sounds, and yet, I am thinking about talking Lance into going up there tonight to chance meeting her again. Conniving little plots and schemes that can put me in a position to get to know her at least.
(sigh) It's so pathetic, I'm even embarrassed my mom is going to read this. I can already hear her, "Jake, get a clue."