currylove

Posts Tagged ‘movies

I’m watching “Taken” right now, and as much as I love it, it always scares the crap out of me.

When I was 16, I wanted to do a 6-week study abroad in between my junior and senior year of high school. I didn’t get very far in asking my parents if I could be an exchange student, living with another family in another country, when they shut that idea down: “No.”  No explanations, no discussion, just a big fat “NO.” I was annoyed but whatever… fast forward 2 years later, when it’s my brother’s turn to ask if he can go. Do you want to guess the answer? “Yes! Sure! Go ahead!”

I was LIVID. Went and cried in the bathroom. I couldn’t understand how they could trust him to go and not me. Why did they think I wasn’t responsible enough?  To me, it was typical Indian parent behavior – favoring the son. I cried and cried about my perceived unfairness of it all.

It was years later, when I guess I got to the point that I’d seen enough and read enough and heard enough that I realized that it wasn’t my behavior they were concerned about – it was everyone elses’ and the thought of what could happen to me, as a girl. And those possibilities are pretty fucking scary. I didn’t appreciate what I saw as “gender discrimination” from my own parents until I got to the point where I could imagine the same things they did.

On one of my trips to Botswana, I got off the plane and was expecting my hotel driver to pick me up. The airport had changed since the last time I’d been there and I didn’t see anyone standing with the hotel sign.  So I walked around a bit, but couldn’t find anyone. It was close to 9pm, I was tired and didn’t know where he could possibly be.  I went back to the hotel / taxi stand line and asked where “Hotel X” was and all of a sudden, this young driver says, ‘Oh! That’s me!’ – he was a driver for another place (Hotel Z) close by in distance to my hotel.  I asked a few times, “But you don’t have my name? Or the hotel name? Am I really supposed to go with you? How am I supposed to be sure you’re here for me?”  And he, in a very sweetly Motswana way, says, “Yes! With me, m’am. I’ll take you to the hotel.”

And I know I looked hesitant, because all of a sudden the rest of the taxi stand vouched for him. So … I went with him. And got in the van. There were two other people also traveling, so I felt a bit better. Also, this whole time, I am pretty much thinking, “Ok, he’s basically my size and small for a guy. I can totally take him if I have to…”  Not really thinking that anything bad was going to happen, but trying to prepare for the worst. We actually chatted the whole time, discussing how much the city had changed since my last visit, and just joking about stuff.

The first drop-off happened at Hotel Z and then I was the only one left… and two minutes later we get to my hotel. He got my bags, I tipped him, and he walked me in.

The hotel clerk looks at me, looks at him, and asks: “You came with him?? That’s not who we sent!”

Well… fuck.  Those are pretty much words you NEVER want to hear.

We then figured out pretty quickly that he was friends with my hotel’s driver and my original driver decided he didn’t want to do a late run, so just asked his friend to pick me up since he was already going to be at the airport for the other hotel.  But neither of them, in their infinite wisdom, thought to let anyone else know. And that’s the African way, so it’s not a huge deal, but when you’re a single girl, traveling alone, and *if* went missing, nobody would know for about a full 12 hours, it’s kind of scary.

So now that I’m older and ‘wiser’, truth be told, I’d make the same decision my parents did so many years ago with one exception – I won’t let my son go either.

I finally saw Magic Mike today… I want my $9 and two hours back. HOLY HELL. How could a movie about hot strippers be so… boring? Lame? Stupid??

It turned out to be half-“Wall Street” and half-“Pretty Woman.”  Neither of which I was expecting. I don’t want my strippers to have feelings or thoughts. I WANTED NUDITY. LOTS OF IT. That is what strippers do:  STRIP THEIR FUCKING CLOTHES OFF.

Instead, I got a morality tale of why you shouldn’t sell or do drugs, and a lame “love” story.  Also, I lived in Tampa for a few years — nobody looks like the people in this movie, they’re all fat in real life.  And, Mike’s place in the movie? WORTH MILLIONS. You’re telling me a stripper can afford beachfront property? Um no. I’ll suspend disbelief for some things, but not THAT.

There’s a male strip club here in town (full nudity), which caters to the gay crowd and can be downright hostile to girls walking in on their own. They apparently believe women won’t tip as well… wonder if this stupid movie will change their mind? Also, they usually keep their socks and shoes on.  Do you know how odd it is to see a guy take of all his clothes, except the things that should come off first? And, no velcro tear-away pants. None.  There are no props, per the movie. It’s just boys, their normal clothes, and then their normal clothes coming off.

In any case, years ago, it was my first visit there and by the end of the night I was chatting with one of the strippers, who was actually really smart and fun to talk to – he ended up asking me out, but basically forced me out the door, saying he’d get in trouble if management saw him talking to me, because it would take away the money they expect from the gays. Whatever.

Let me be clear, I never did anything with him – mostly because he admitted he was “gay for pay” – turns out the dancers are mostly straight, but for the right amount, are willing to do certain things. He said all he ever let this older guy do was “touch him”… yeah, right. I’m sure the old guy touched him with his mouth.

The date was fine but really all I wanted to do was talk about stripping, the money he made, how much he liked it, and he didn’t. As Magic Mike says in the movie: “That isn’t all of who I am.”  Are you kidding?  That’s the most interesting part, so that is what I wanted to discuss. We never had a second date, which was fine with me.

A second time we went, it was a group of girls, and we ended up accidentally buying a lap dance. Seriously. It was not on purpose – the DJ asked, “Who wants a t-shirt??” and my girlfriend, A, raised her hand and said she did. Who knows that’s code for a lap dance? Fuck. Not us! So the guy came down (was really cute) and asked who wanted the dance. We all looked at each other and said, “um… nobody”… and he said we took the shirt, so we got a dance.

Let me rephrase that. *I* got a dance. I had some naked guy swinging his medium-sized dick close to my legs. I honestly couldn’t even look, I was blushing. But I also couldn’t look up, because I didn’t want to make eye contact. Basically I looked like a crazy person trying to avoid eye and penis contact.

He goes: “You’re too sexy to be shy – why won’t you look down?” And I responded: “Because I don’t know your name and your penis is reaalllllllllllllllllly close to my jeans, and I’m kinda freaking out.”

He was actually very sweet and backed off. Finished the dance and off he went to the next round. Oh yea… we also didn’t realize we had to pay him – that took us about an hour to figure out, but he never asked us for the money straight out.

Anyway, as I was walking by this table of VERY cute men, they stopped me and go: “Honey, did you see how excited he was dancing for you? He totally liked you.”

OMG. HE HAD A HARD-ON WHILE DANCING FOR ME.

I was mortified. And kind of proud. Turned out the whole fucking club saw and I was the only one who didn’t notice, because I refused to look at his gyrating penis.

We ended up chatting with the guys from the table for most of the night. And then we ended up going home with them. 4 girls. 3 gay men. One stripper. (But not the one that danced for us, this one was so cute but sooooo dumb and had a crush on our other friend).

So we got back to the house and the gays were freaking out because they thought the stripper was going to steal something… spoiler alert: he didn’t. We ended up in the hot tub.

Ok. Let me just point out that I was really drunk at this point. And when A and I get together, we’re bad but SOOOO good and fun. It basically turns into: If you do it, I’ll do it and we both end up doing things we wouldn’t have if we were with other people. So me and one of the guys got in the hot tub first and waited for everyone to join us. I thought we waited about 5 minutes. Turned out it was a good half hour before anyone else got in.

So… the two of us… in the hot tub. He was REALLY cute. And REALLY naked.  And REALLY gay. And I only had on my panties. So maybe I felt him up a little bit….until we started chatting and I asked if he had a partner. Him: “Yeah, he is the one who just went to get beer. We’ve been together 17 years. I kinda love you.”

I dropped his dick out my hand pretty quick.

The rest of the night was a lot of fun… they were very gracious hosts and let us shower there, even gave us towels! We left and never saw each other again.

As it should be.

So there, Magic Mike. Two hours of my stripper stories would’ve been more entertaining than the shit we sat through today. Sheesh. Why isn’t Hollywood knocking on my door yet???

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s so young that he thinks Pierce Brosnan was the best James Bond.

I have to now decide if my desire to get laid is greater than my desire to not get laid by someone with bad taste.

 

 


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