Recently I was skyping with someone about an outline I made for a possible book. He is kind of a dick sometimes, but he has good ideas. We both had a glass of wine, we talked and flirted a little, and he suddenly said to me, “You should strip for me, do a dance, maybe touch yourself a little.”
I rolled my eyes.
“C’mon pretty girl, do it! Stop being so worried about your book. This will be fun and will release some of the tension!” he continued.
“Oohhh, I don’t know, I’m feeling kind of shy,” I replied. “You first.” I was kind of kidding.
Then I saw the mischievous man-grin. He looked through his music library for a minute, turned on “Lick it Up” by Kiss (haha, I know, right?) and stood up. I sat on my couch and watched as he actually danced, stripped to the music and then did the thing with his thing. You know, that helicopter thing. I was dumbfounded.
So then it was my turn. Frick. I didn’t think that when I said, “You first” that he was going to just get up and do it. Men. You know, one of the main things I have learned in 2012 is that men have little to no shame. Jesus.
So I picked a song (you know I love my Tom Jones)
and I got up (I had on pink leopard print boxers), whipped my hair out of my ponytail and just started dancing my silly ass off. Robot? Yep. Twist? Absolutely. Carlton dance? No doubt. Shakin’ the tail feathers like my dad does at weddings? Fucking right.
It was a lot of fun, and it did release tension, but the guy got really mad at me about it and he hasn’t spoken to me since. Really? Some gals don’t skype strip, especially not on command, and I think someone needs a better sense of humor.