![\"\"](\"https:\/\/thelondonlook.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/overit.jpg\" "\\"overit\\"")
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This scenario is not the one I hoped for. I’m grumpy, I’ve exited a dance booth with a man who just groped me, I’m hot and sweaty and stood in front of the fan to get cool – oh god I hope he didn’t see me smell my armpits, I tried to be subtle – I bet he saw. I’m certainly not laughing, I’m definitely not having an intelligent conversation unless you count, ‘here mate, this isn’t a brothel, you can’t touch dancers you piece of crap!’ and I do not look happy. I see him out the corner of my eye, he catches my gaze and looks shocked but grins. A grin that reads ‘well I knew you would end up here, my current girlfriend is a trainee solicitor’. THAT’S NOT THE SMILE I WANTED. I wanted him to smile as if to say, ‘oh goodness you’re ravishing, you’re seem so happy without me, how could I have let you go? You appear much cleverer\u2026so worldly\u2026 and wow, you’re really skinny’. I can’t ignore him, we’ve seen each other and as much as I want to run away, I can barely walk in my shoes, let alone attempt to run. I meander over slowly, theres no point in trying to do a sexy strut, firstly, I don’t know how to without looking like a drunken drag queen and secondly, I was never the sexiest walker when I was with him – the amount of times I demanded piggy backs after a few hours in the pub whilst singing Beyonce at the top of my voice is embarrassing. I sit down next to him, he smells of Hugo Boss, he always used to wear Dior Homme.<\/p>\n
‘Fancy seeing you here’, I say, is that funny? Am I trying to be funny? ‘So, what, do you work here now?!’ He asks. No, I’m on a slutty fancy dress and decided to come to a strip club. Of course I work here you idiot. ‘Well, when did this happen?’ He questions. ‘After I graduated. Oh I finished my masters, did you know that? I just wanted to make some extra cash. It’s good, I enjoy it, I’m really happy, I enjoy it, it’s fun, I’m really happy’ – okay don’t over do it. ‘Anyway, how come you’re here?’ ‘I’m out with work colleagues, I changed jobs last year, just after I met, ermm, well Lucy’. Lucy is his new girlfriend. I act surprised. Obviously I know about Lucy. From the moment his Facebook relationship status changed I’ve been monitoring her movements every month. I guess she’s pretty. Actually she’s stunning. She seems a bit boring though, her status updates are always moaning about the postman being late or what takeaway she’s ordering. Plus her holiday ‘Magaluf with the girlies <3 XXX’ didn’t reveal any incriminating photos. Just a generic summer holiday complete with sunburnt faces and giant fishbowls. She’s one of those who puts unattractive pictures on her profile, as she’s so pretty she doesn’t need to try. I hate that. She also hardly ever wears make up, I hate that even more. On her profile picture (number fourteen out of fifty two) she looks like a better version of Sienna Miller. Not that I’ve stalked her much, I promise. Just the right amount an ex-girlfriend should. Anyway, she made her profile private. I can’t stand it when people do that, I’m forever getting paranoid that they do it because they’ve found out I’m looking at them too much. ‘How’s your job working out?’ I ask, trying to sound interested but not too eager. ‘Well it’s the same role but with a different company, the salary’s better and there’s room to travel’. TRAVEL? SINCE WHEN HAVE YOU BEEN INTERESTED IN TRAVEL?! One time I suggested that we go for a long weekend to the Lake District and he moaned he would miss being at home. One of the (many) reasons we broke up was he said he was born and bred in this city and never wanted to leave. Ever. But now, he’s changing jobs because of the travel opportunities? That’s Lucy’s doing that is, I can just tell.<\/p>\n In her album ‘mobile uploads 2’ there’s photos of her in some European city with her family. I bet they live there and she’s trying to make him switch jobs so they can move to Germany or somewhere and start their new life. That’s Lucy all over, I’m sure of it. ‘I’ve never been to a strip club before, the first time I come, guess who I see – you! How strange!’ Never been to a strip club? That’s a lie. I remember arguing with him when I found receipts in his wallet from this very club. This was at a time when I thought all strippers were nasty sluts who tried to shag the customers. That was a year and a half ago. In fact I’ve been broken up with him for over a year, and I would confidently say that ‘I’m over him’. But that’s not the point. I still want to win, you know? I want to have the better life, I want to be more successful and skinny. I don’t feel like it now, sat in my underwear with cash in my garter. I feel cheap. Gosh he’s good looking. Was he always this handsome? I always thought he looked a bit mousey. ‘You look good you know, I wish you’d worn stuff like that when we were going out!’ What? I look good? Has he not noticed my cellulite? Is he just saying it to be nice? Does he feel sorry for me? Or maybe he does think I look good. What if things are going wrong with Lucy and he wants to break up with her? Maybe he heard that I worked here and came deliberately? I start thinking about what would happen if he told me he still loves me, he would take my hand and carry me up the stairs outside. We’d kiss and he’d say he’s not stopped thinking about me since the moment he broke up with me. He’d forget Germany or wherever and stay here with me. His mum would be so happy, she always loved me. I’d go round to her house and she would give me a massive hug, ‘I knew he would always end up with you, no girl ever compares to you, especially that Lucy, I never liked her’. ‘So, how are things with you and your fella anyway? He’s such a nice guy’. Shit, my boyfriend. I forgot about him. Only for a minute though, that’s normal isn’t it? ‘Good thanks. Yeah, really good’. I reply. I’m glad, I’m really pleased you’re happy and you’ve got yourself sorted, even if it is, well doing this’. Got myself sorted? What does that mean? I was always sorted. More than he ever was.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n