Promises and Resolutions are meant to be broken

This year my resolution was to NOT date just anybody.

I happen to get lonely so I am susceptible to settling for someone who shows a little interest. Since most girls lose interest in me after two or three weeks, I decided a change was in order. I resolved to limit myself to a woman who has to be a lot, and I do mean a lot, like me.

Some might say the breaking of this resolution came abrupt.

I have been frequenting the local Hushpuppy Saloon, at least once every other week. The first Friday of the year I entered the club like normal.

After a couple of beers I realized I was repeating myself.

As I walked through the wildness of the saloon, I lighted on a certain dancer (where was my wallet?) and I laid me down a dollar for her to keep, and as she took it I dreamed a dream.

Thinking this sexy ecdysiast might just be perfect for me, I thought I would do more than chat with her this time. After a couple of minutes of conversation, I offered her my phone number with a promise of dinner. She welcomed my proposal and I went home satisfied. I was excited! I knew at the very least that this girl would like things about me that others have merely accepted.

She began calling me the next night, wondering if I wanted to hang out with her. I declined, since I was way up by St. Louis. However I did pick her up when I got back in town the next night. I brought her home for a movie.

"Frailty" I think. Good flick.

This woman empties her pockets on my dresser, and I was in awe. Brass knuckles and a quarter stick on TNT! Wow, a boot knife!

I asked her what the arsenal was for, and her reply was, "I'm a little girl".

How cute is that?!

After witnessing this, and some conversation, I knew this girl was "Whips". "Whips" just happens to be the pet name for someone I didn't think existed -- someone so similar to me it's scary. Somebody else whose journey in life has led them through the bowels of hell. Come to find out we both have to live with a tragic past on a daily basis.

Whips and I hit it off for a couple of weeks. She was honestly more sweet to me than anyone has ever been. She lavished me with numerous sobriquets: Sexy, sweetheart, etc. ... too many to recall. She complemented me non-stop, I was mostly speechless. It just wasn't something I was used to.

My next trip to the club was at a different angle. I think most guys have a jealous instinct. This wasn't the case for me. My friend Zack asked me, "Doesn't that bother you?" as she escorted a man to the V.I.P. for a private dance.

My reply was, "No, not at all". I was proud of her. She looks radiant on-stage. Hell, I wish people would pay to see me naked! I guess I have low self-esteem.

To be honest the only thing I didn't like about her job is the only nights that I don't work are Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Friday and Saturday are obviously the big money nights.

The time we have spent together was short but sweet. To me it is sanctified.

In the end I elected to bring a halt to everything. The only reason being that she has an addiction that I don't want any part of. I have called her for closure, but she didn't return my calls. I think we are somehow on the same wavelength.

It deeply saddens me to let her go, but I have been on a rigorous self-improvement campaign for several months now. I would have walked to the end of the earth for her sober counterpart, but when I would reach the end, I just find "Whips" all spun out.

I broke my promise of ever taking her to dinner. However, I believe my resolution is still intact. What do you think?

whipsandchains3825968@hotmail.com