Marc Staal was my boyfriend and after a night of clubbing and drinking I made him go to a strip club with me because I thought it would be hilarious and kind of hot, at the same time. I could tell he didn't want to go but he took me anyway like a good boyfriend would. I was drunk, and he was visibly upset but he humored me and endured it. I was wearing this gold sequent dress, with black tights, and black pumps, and had the body of Alessandra Ambrosio (ooo so stylish...and hot!).
We got this private room, and I stared pole dancing (no I didn't take off anything), but Marc wouldn't look at me, I kept twirling because, I was wasted and somehow thought he'd look eventually. Finally the waitress came in and brought our drinks, mine was a martini his was a gin and tonic or vodka, something clear like that. I stopped dancing and hanging by one hand I just looked at him, he was really upset but wouldn't say anything. His cheeks were all flushed, and he kept on shifting and moving his lips as if he was going to say something but he always stopped himself before he did.
I got off the pole walked over to him and he still didn't look at me, I was near tears because I didn't know what was wrong. I moved closer to him so his bent leg was between mine, and as he rested his head against my chest I understood: He thought too much of me, and respected me too much for me to be pole dancing for him, I felt like an asshole, and I felt like a slut. The he stood up, kissed me in the forehead, and with his arm around me, we walked out of that strip club.
What a vivid dream, eh? So detailed! AND wouldn't the world be a better place if ~*dream*~ Marc Staal, actually existed? *sigh*
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