It seems that my entire life is full of eccentrics.
Let me tell you (again) of the Mad Stripper.

Enter the Mad Stripper!

it was through match.com about two years ago. I had put up my profile again after the Travel Agent moved out, and was trawling the waters to see what sort of nibbles I might get. What the hell, said I to myself- I had had good luck in the past with it, after all.

One of the women who contacted me was a dental hygienist who ran her own school to train dental hygienists, the divorced wife of a local (and quite successful) dentist. Her emails were nice, and when we exchanged phone numbers she sounded quite pleasant- very cheerful and bouncy, talking almost nonstop as though she had just had four shots of espresso, and rather funny. So I did what one does in those circumstances and suggested getting together for coffee.

"Coffee? Well, I guess... but I'd really rather have a drink."

Hmmmm, we got a live one here, I thought. "Sure, I'm good with that. Where would you like to meet?"

"Well, could you come and pick me up at my house?"

A bit unusual, but what the hell... "Sure. When would you like me there?"

"Just come on over." And she gives me directions to her house.

So I drove over there and found her to be in a rather large house in a new subdivision. I ring the doorbell and am greeted by a six foot woman with very long frizzy black hair, deep brown eyes and a lighthouse smile. She gave me a hug- actually, quite nice as she was wearing a tank shirt and snug shorts- and followed me to my car. She suggested a Mexican restaurant not far away and I agreed.

We had gone maybe five minutes down the road before she started telling me about how she had had a bikini wax that afternoon, and went into detail. Lots of detail.

We got to the restaurant and she ordered food and tequila. Okay, I thought, she's not driving, she's hungry, and at least she's eating while she's drinking. I got food and a beer and sat back to listen. The conversation went from dental hygienist training to her former career as a stripper, and as the tequila vanished the details came out faster. She told me all about what it was like, and how one of the most erotic experiences she ever had was when she went to another club and a young blonde gave her a lap dance and kissed her.

By now I was really trying very hard not to either laugh or scream, but I could tell it was only a matter of time. After several more rounds and a lot of animated talk, we paid the bill and I drove her home. She asked me in and I went along, mainly out of a sort of horrid fascination to see what was coming next. She poured us another couple of drinks, and the conversation again turned to stripping and how she had gotten implants to make her boobs match the rest of her proportions.

"Implants?" I repeated, a bit taken aback.

"Yeah, take a look!" And the shirt was pulled up. They popped out, unhindered by a bra. "See, they don't feel quite right, though." And she took my hands and put them on her boobs and pressed them firmly into her.

"Umm... yeah, I guess you're right..." I gasped somewhat weakly. By now my mind was thoroughly blown and my head was spinning. I finally made my excuses- I was far too flipped out by her to shag, and besides she was pretty well drunk- and stood to go. But as we stood by the door I gave in to an impulse and gave her a long, powerful kiss as I leaned back with my arms around her, lifting her slightly off the floor. (A great trick- it takes their breath away and makes them feel light, and makes it very intense.) As expected, she got extremely aroused and responded rather urgently- but I broke away and headed home before anything further could happen.

As I drove home I tried to sort out the evening, got the giggles, then gave in and screamed a few times and went belming down the road. Okay, I thought, that was the most surreal first date I've ever had. Must have been a one-off, though- she must have had a couple before I got there. I can't imagine that this is something that would happen again...

I was wrong.

I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that when she had a couple of drinks in her she became quite the handful. We went out a few times more, and on one date she had enough vodka and cranberry to be weaving a bit, and was not playing pool very well by then. She was wearing a lace shirt with a red bra- the only time I've seen her wearing one- and said something joking to a couple of guys at the bar. They laughed and joked back with her, and she leaned in and said something else- and suddenly they scattered from her as though she had turned into Beelzebub. I still don't know what she said, but it was about as close as that black dude will ever come to being white...

That was when I swore off dating.

Exit the Mad Stripper...

Late in January I decided that since my kids all had Myspace pages I should get on there as well to keep an eye on them, so I constructed a page with a picture of me with a cat on my shoulders, and about a day later was contacted by the woman who turned out to be the one who ended up living with me... so we started hanging out and started sharing a bed, and I had her stay here whenever we could manage it (at the time she lived an hour north of me).

Now I'm not enough of an asshole to be shagging two women at the same time behind each others' backs, so I let things trail off with the Mad Stripper. If she called I would answer and would chat with her, but I really didn't have the time to hang out anymore, sorry... and so it went. As some of these calls happened while I was with the Lunatic Artist, she was quite aware of the situation and found it somewhat amusing.

Then one Sunday afternoon as the Lunatic Artist was here hanging out with me, I saw a very familiar car pull into my driveway. She heard me mutter "Oh shit" and go out the door, and my sons immediately crowded around the window as I headed off the occupant of the car. I gently explained that I had company, and she looked crestfallen but accepted it gracefully and drove off.

I came in the door expecting to find and enraged Lunatic Artist packing her things into her bag, but instead found her cracking up with my sons as they laughed at my discomfort. When she could speak again, she said, "So that's the Mad Stripper?"

Seldom have I been more confused or more grateful.

Even though she does still tease me about that.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 30 Oct 2008, 21:04, 5 replies)

I think everyone needs a mad stripper in their lives.
.
( girlinthehole, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 21:33, closed)

God forbid.
I went to court with her as a witness on her behalf once, fended her off from making a pass at my son's friend while she was drunk and had to refuse to commit perjury for her to get her out of a DUI.

Trust me, you don't want a Mad Stripper.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 30 Oct 2008, 21:37, closed)

Belming down the road = win.
you sir can have one of my clicks :D
(LiL_Arsewipe licked your face on, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 22:01, closed)

Agreed!
TRL, quality post as always.
(Rem Sir, why are you thrashing about on the floor?, Wed 5 Nov 2008, 23:30, closed)

But you could have got your end away there!

( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Fri 31 Oct 2008, 19:11, closed)