For the first time.

[PROTECTED POST!!!!]

There are many things that The Franksabunch™ has not done in this life.  Some of these I have yet to accomplish simply due to random chance or lack of opportunity while for others the stumbling blocks have been shame or guilt.  The former consists of things like visiting Korea (The Wife™ is Korean) and writing a novel while the latter are of a more nefarious nature, like cracking a silent fart in a full elevator and…going to a strip club.

Sometimes all the planets align and you get your chance.  Do you take it?  I did.

You see, The Franksabunch™ had the day off while The Wife™ had to work until 4:30 pm.  Some of these places open in the early afternoon so there would be ample time for me to go for a couple hours and leave, with none the wiser.  That this place is known to be frequented by tourists and those on the lower rungs of the socioeconomic ladder only served to embolden me with its promise of being able to see without being seen.  Regardless, I still sauntered silently, with furtive glances to screen for any familiar faces being the only breaks in my downward gaze as I went to pay for the cover to get in.  Once inside I looked around and saw that I was not the only one here early.  Through the dark veil of anonymity I could still pick out at least 10 other men—and, oddly, one woman by herself—sitting and waiting with a drink in one hand and nervous anticipation causing tremulousness in the other.  Why not?  After all, the main attraction is lean and young, a pretty hapa girl who we get to see work the stripper’s pole.  Half Chinese, half Caucasian.  It doesn’t get any better than that. 

I sat about halfway in.  Too far up front to be recognized from behind and far enough in the back for anyone up front to care.  Reminding myself that there was no way I could come here if The Wife™ knew, I smiled as I slid down in my seat.  And when it was all over, Kristin Kreuk had killed the bad guy and the credits from “Streetfighter: Legend of Chun Li” started rolling on the screen.

What, you thought I was doing something else besides watching a movie by myself? 

Up until Streetfighter, I had never seen a movie by myself because I was always embarrassed.  I didn’t want to be seen by other people there as some loser without friends.  (Now I don’t care…marriage can do that to a man.)  And the movie?  The Wife™ refused to see it with me and there actually was a stripper pole in it (Chun Li uses it as leverage to kick a bad guy, sorry, guys, no nekkidness).

I thought about the whole “bucket list” thing while I was at the movie.  For me there really is no bucket list.  Only what I hope to have in this life (to love and be loved) and everything else.  But sometimes I get so caught up in the former that I forget the Technicolor that new experiences can bring to the sepia of daily life.  I always thought I’d be too chicken to try rock climbing, but found that—after checking to make sure that I didn’t soil myself—being on the top looking down was about as exhilarating as anything else.  I used to think that all African Americans (except Bill Cosby and Gary Coleman) were ghetto until I shared a room with a black guy from the ‘hood in college and learned that the color of the skin doesn’t always correspond with the color of the soul that lies beneath.

So what did I learn from this new experience of watching a movie by myself?  Nothing, really.  (Except that Taboo from the B.E.P. can’t act.)  But I’m looking forward to what the next one might teach me.

You only live once, my friends.  Make the most of it.

Have a great week!

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For those of you, like me, who are still mourning the passing of Battlestar Galactica, listen to this 100x.  I have.  Starbuck, where have you gone?!?!?!

And I don’t understand why the British are always so amazed by unattractive people with bad teeth who can sing well.  Haven't they seen Madonna perform before?

P.S.--Yes, I know it's not a protected post.  Just trying to trick you into reading it.