Mistaken Impressions

A strip club post

All too often, I find that a dancer's first impression of me ends up being her last impression of me because of her mistaken impression of me. Of course if her impression of me is that I'm too frugal or that I like to have too much fun, I guess that isn't a mistake. It's just that I'm not as concerned with that being her "last" impression.

On the other hand, if I have a couple of dances that are fantastic and I stop after two dances, a dancer sometimes gets the impression that I'm stopping because I didn't like the dances or I don't want to buy more dances. If they were fantastic dances, I'm stopping because I like to enjoy myself as much as I can without crossing the final threshold. Once I get to the point where I have to spend more time trying to keep from going too far than I'm spending enjoying how far I've gone, I'd just rather not spend my money on the task of trying to "not" have fun. After a few minutes to compose myself, the dancer that gave me the fantastic dances is most likely the dancer that I "do" want to buy more dances from. Unfortunately, she has often disappeared to never return.

My tendency towards excess excitability has caused me to give the wrong impression other times as well. I generally do a pretty good job of maintaining just enough of a cushion between my happy place and (what I tend to think of as) whoopsie-daisy so that I don't have to make any sudden changes during a dance. But there was that time when I was already a little too close to red line when the dancer decided to run her fingers along the inside of my waistband. Any other time, I would love that. But at that particular moment, I needed to pull her hand away. And now she has the mistaken impression that I "don't" want her hand in my pants.

A couple of weeks ago I made an even worse mistake. There is a dancer that I don't think I've ever turned down (and she had danced for me a number of times in the past), but for-practically-ever she's been avoiding me. So when she recently came by and did a couple of great dances for me, I didn't want to give her the wrong impression, so I asked her to keep going. Early in the third dance, though, I realized I was enjoying myself too much and decided I should probably slow down. Unfortunately, that was the same moment when she decided to kick it into high gear. Whoopsie-daisy. I reacted so suddenly (and forcefully) that I practically threw her onto the floor. When she calmly got up and started to get dressed, I had to clear up the mistaken impression that whoopsie-daisy meant I was finished and didn't want her to keep dancing. It really just meant I needed a moment. A moment to back away from the red zone. A moment of space. A moment without any movement. A moment when she stopped her heart from beating if possible, because I think mine did.

But it may not be that mistaken impression that has kept her away from me since then. It may just be the impression I've given her that I am one very perverted strip club patron. No mistake there.

Why don't you just tell her, early on, before you get to the red line, that you are easily excited and you might need her to back off every now and then to give you a breather. Telling her in advance will avoid the misunderstanding.

Telling her in advance will avoid the misunderstanding. Originally Posted by Sensual Sophia

And there's the rub.

As much of a problem as I have with excess excitability, my problems with interpersonal communication make that seem like a day at the beach. And not one of those days at the beach where you can't go into the water because of the rip tide, and there are a lot of rocks in the sand, and you've got sand in your shorts. A nice day at the beach. A nude beach, because nudists are very much into the whole body acceptance thing.

But I digress.

You are absolutely correct. And one of these days I'm going to talk to somebody about that.

You are obviously adept at written communication.

I used to be the same way. I am still better in written form than waxing the extemporaneous.

I found that working in sales forced me to "come out of my shell".