The persistent cold weather in DC has managed to slow down any activities to an idyllic state and, in the same process, freeze personalities to some sort of dull resemblances.In that sluggish post-holidays pace, it was ironic that my first week back at work ended up being incredibly hectic. Four out of of 5 people of my team were out on holidays or mission while we were having an event coming up pretty soon -which left me with all the last minute preparation. On the bright side, that gave me the chance to work as a de facto team leader, and it left me quite a lot of new perspectives.
Yet, as much as work could distract me from the unreal cold winds outside, after 8 hours of labor, the reality quickly took over. I didn't know if it was really the weather, or DC itself, but somehow I just couldn't find any inspiration from the immediate physical and social surroundings. Everywhere I went I saw the same infrastructures, the same people doing the very similar thing - I ached for some fun picture, some interesting work, some inspirational story , but no one could quite intrigue me like Brent did two years ago. I couldn't help but wonder, was it his experiences or his passion that gave him such a captivating personality? And as I continued to dread the dullness of DC, I wondered when and from whom I would find the next inspiration.
With that in mind, I lugged myself to meet a friend from school for dinner and drink one Friday night. Our conversation was rather banal, and I would admit it was more of my boredom that took over, so when we moved to drinks and a bit dancing I began to watch the time more closely. Waiting for the alcohol to wear off before I could drive home, I saw a beautiful man on the dance floor - well, it was hard not to notice him, given how my friends were all looking at him. Tall, blond, beautifully slim fit, with a provocative perky butt slightly revealed through the low-rise jeans. Suddenly the gorgeous creature, Matt - if I recalled correctly, turned and gave me a smile that could warm up any heart, even one of a cold bitchy one. Before I knew it, we were dancing and talking together. It wasn't long before he told me what he did for a living - he was a male stripper.
That was a first! I thought so as we continued to enjoy each other's company. He surely had some moves that my lawyers and military friends could never imitate. He surely had a beautiful body that some would dream to have one day. Most of all, he surely had a profession that not everyone would even consider - especially in DC. Yet, he managed to intrigue me even more when he leaned over and whispered in my ears "There's nothing I want more than to kiss you right now - but we just met, and I am a stripper but not a slut, so let's meet and go out later."
In a city where men put on a straight high moral face at work to mask their devilish sluttiness inside, a city where men consider homewrecking a leisure, a city where dating is almost as hard as the Viagra-produced constant boner, it was so refreshing to meet a man who, despite a profession that people frown upon, managed, or was aspired, to stay so decent.
He might not call, or might not even remember our conversation - but his words were everything that I needed. It was more than a breathe of fresh air that brought back the inspiration to carry on life, in hope of meeting a great, decent, and interesting man.
Credit: Winter in Delft - Arkadius Zkotlewski
