Why strip dance competitions will always end badly
Dating or fooling around with people who read this blog doesn’t tend to work out. Mostly because the person reading can find out what you are thinking by reading the blog and that’s not really fair.
It’s like dating a telepathic person. You can’t not write about them because of Rule 6, Rule 6 is an important rule.
Biscuit has done it and it was amazingly uncomfortable. A reasonable person would have assumed that I would have learned from Biscuit’s example. The events of the weekend however tell a different story.
This is a very hard post to write. This events happened a few weeks ago.
We were at a party a few months ago and we happened to meet some people who read the blog. Let’s not go into how they found out but lets just say that Biscuit and I would make rubbish spies. We swapped details, using assumed names and continued to talk.
I had mentioned to one of these people in passing that we had a Kinect and that dance-offs were on the cards. We’ve been challenging a lot of people to dance-offs recently.
A few days later the person emailed me and said ‘So how about that dance off?’ And so a dance-off was arranged on a Saturday night, between the two of us.
The start of something stupid
There were some text messages sent. Some of which could, in a certain light be considered flirty.
I MAY, I stress may have suggested that in a dance off the winner of the round downs a shot and the loser has to remove an article of clothing. I say may because this was not replied to or mentioned in any way.
So like a naughty child I pretended I hadn’t said it and forgot all about it. At least I hadn’t mentioned scrabble.
The girl asked if she could bring a friend and I said of course, since Biscuit was about it would turn the occasion into more of a mini-party. That was a much better idea.
She appeared a little late which gave Biscuit and I more time to frantically clean the place, and incidentally get invited to a BBQ by our neighbour.
We had a few drinks and chatted slightly awkwardly. She was wearing jeans, a lot of layers (A cunning plan it would seem later) and had the most amazing hair I’d ever seen. It was like something from a doll or regency period painting, all soft ringlets and subtle tones.
It really was good hair. I suspect she may have just been to the hairdressers.
We took up the neighbours invite for a BBQ and joined a mix of extremely friendly Eastern European types. They were a little bit taken by the girl and her friend.
So taken that several of them asked to have their photo taken with them. I blame the hair, in the circumstances it was entirely understandable.
We drank more and returned to the house for the dance off. The girl’s friend refused to dance so the dance off was Biscuit Vs Toast, Toast Vs Girl, Girl Vs Biscuit and then repeat. There was no mention of clothes being removed but there were a few shots downed.
Some time later I ended up dancing against the girl with Biscuit talking to her friend in the other room. The girl suddenly said ‘Right so are we going to have this strip dance-off or not?’
This was the first time anything from the text had been mentioned.
‘Blimes’ I said, ‘okay.’
And so the dance off began. I won the first round and the second, and the third. I couldn’t stop winning. I was really trying to fudge things up but every time I did the Kinect considered it a master-stroke of dancing and scored me even higher. I could not lose even though I was trying.
The spirit of Patrick Swayze was with me that night
She ended up dancing about in her bra and jeans. I was still wearing my coat. She said she wasn’t taking any more clothes off. We stopped and had a gin and tonic to still the nerves.
My phone vibrated. It was Biscuit. The girl’s friend had just told him that she had assumed I was gay. He had told her otherwise but she didn’t entirely believe him.
I am definitely sending out the wrong signals.
There was one final round of dance-off suggested. All or nothing. The loser would lose all clothes.
A song was selected. We battled it out. In a film this would be a dramatic closely fought battle with the lead changing several times. In real life I somehow got about six times her score.
The game was ended swiftly before any of the terms of victory or defeat could be enacted, instead we rejoined the party and drank more booze.
Some time later, much later and after a lot more drinking it was time to go to bed. We’ve got a spare room so it was offered to the girls.
The girl’s friend crashed out in the room, she said she hadn’t decided where she was sleeping yet. I said toss a coin over it.
A coin was tossed, and subsequently lost in the bin before the result could be worked out.
Another coin was tossed, it was also lost somewhere near the sink.
A third coin was thrown into the air, it bounced off a telly and nearly smashed a glass. The result said I wasn’t going to be sleeping alone.
It was a bit awkward really. She knew I’d had to write it up, I knew I’d have to write it up. Who wants that hanging over you?
The girls hung around the next day too. There was a bit more dancing (but no more stripping) some breakfast and quite a lot of going ‘ooh bloody hell I’m hungover’.
When she left at about lunch time she asked if this was ‘a thing yet?’ I said I wasn’t sure, it was a bit early to tell.
It was too early to tell.
Marriage percentage – 20% (with massive deductions for telepathic skills and being rubbish at dancing)
- Don’t date readers, it’s not fair because they know 1) what you are thinking 2) what you’ve been up to.
- No more strip contests, ever.
- Having a really good haircut probably isn’t a solid basis for something.
- It is astounding how much booze four people can drink.