People have lots of advice for single people about where to meet the "right" person. They'll offer such gems as asking your friends for introductions, meeting someone at the library or going to church. A friend once set me up with a man he said I had a lot in common with. He forgot to mention the failed Las Vegas entertainer's crack addiction and the lost year the man lived with another man for blow — double entendre intended. The only thing we had in common was that I had money in my purse, he stole it and we both really felt bad about it.
The New York Post best-selling author I met at the library was mysterious. After the equally mysterious gas leak in my apartment, I discovered his last two girlfriends had disappeared without a trace. It is a grand thing to read about your beloved in the Village Voice.
As to church, take note that The Tampa Tribune's archive has an entire subject heading titled "clergy misconduct." It looks like the ministry of the Tampa Bay area has touched more undercover cop parts than I ever will.
I have often thought that if I have the talent to meet Mr. Wrong in the right places, what would happen if I really tried to find the best bad man? So that's what I did.
Attack of the Monstro-Johnsons I ran two separate personal ads. One ad was about my desire to walk down the beach, by the sunset in my 5-inch fur sandals with a sensitive man. The other ad was far closer to the point: "SWF sks well-endowed male for affair." It soon became apparent that men saw my plea for totem pole sex as honest and even pure. Only a few men responded to my sunset ad. The men with something XXX-tra down south wanted to take me to London, buy me dinner, clean my house, buy me shoes and otherwise shower me with endless hours of affection. The sex ad perusers were far more affluent, generous, articulate and ready to serve.
A Special Anniversary Gift Meeting men at strip clubs is a little too easy. At PonyTails I was actually hit on by a trio of men. Each had a different offer. One had cocaine. Pass. One said he could breathe though his ears. This was not a G-rated Goldilocks dilemma. The last one had a wife, and their anniversary was coming up soon. I would make the perfect anniversary gift for them both to share. Already whipped by standard female equipment, at least these guys were well-trained to throw fistfuls of cash at uncaring women.
Hunting for a Mafia Love Muffin Frankly I refuse to believe Malio's is a place to meet Mafia men. Everyone I asked whispered conspiratorially — Malio's. If everyone believes it to be so — what sort of mobster would go there? I was also told: Iavarone's, Club Joy, breakfast at La Teresita and some significantly raised eyebrows of people who mouthed: Pasco County. Another informant hinted about the Asian mobs at Britton Plaza. At Malio's and Iavarone's the competition is fierce. It was suggested to me that Tampa Bay's finest call girls frequent these bars late at night. I will tell you this: There are some rich married men totally off the leash there. One barely legal girl was leaning into an older gentleman rubbing his leg under the bar. He couldn't take his eyes off my rack. She began rubbing his leg so furiously I thought the gent's chinos were going to catch on fire. A conflagration like that certainly would have set his 40-karat diamond gold ring off like fireworks. The romance of the La Cosa Nostra suggests a bad boy with class.
Born to Ride On Wednesday nights at Daddy Wiggler's, the parking lot is covered with motorcycles. I have to say I thought the notion of the bad boy biker had been neutered by the escalating cost of a ride. The last time I was at Daytona's Bike Week I met more doctors and lawyers than I would have sipping wine at a highbrow fundraiser. However, the traditional stereotype of the bad boy biker still lives. Within seconds of hitting the property, Radical Randy of Born to Ride TV was already regaling me with the finer points of his trademarked action event, the T-Back Tractor Pull. Turns out the tractor was actually a keg. The day I crawl around half-naked with a keg of beer BEHIND me, know that the apocalypse is around the corner. Before I left, five men propositioned me — at one time. They felt I was a prime choice to invite along to a hotel room for full room service. If you've ever really been tempted by the excess of a gang bang, think carefully of one stranger's hands on your goodies. Now think of 10. Pass.
The Male Encounter There is a vast difference between a strip club and male strip night. Female strippers can drape themselves bored around a pole while men silently slip them dollar bills. Women have to scream at male strippers to keep them moving. A muscled mannequin isn't there just to perform; he wants the crowd to perform for him. Meeting a man at a male strip night isn't impossible. The primary problem is identifying their interest in females. Performances are characterized by hideous lip-synching and choreographed moves to constant reminders to "scream, scream, scream." Personally, I "drank, drank, drank" and found the half-dressed bartenders more to my liking. At Club Joy's Male Encounter night, I wanted "regular guy" host Justin Credible to take it all off. Steroids wreak a terrible vengeance on a man. The one man sporting a full package walked off with a veritable tutu of dollar bills. As the 6-foot rule doesn't exist here, I handled more joysticks than a kid at a video game center.
The Good One Gets Away Ultimate bad boys have their place in the local wrestling scene as future stars in training. Nimble, muscled men fly around light as humming birds whilst attired in the skinniest of skivvies. The crowd is primarily male. Wrestling is the last bastion of romance-novel-perfect longhaired men. Here, the bad boy is generally a character as opposed to a lifestyle. At a Frankie's Ybor event, I made significant eye contact with numerous possibilities. At the bar, a sweet-face man bumped into my elbow and tried to start a conversation. Alas, I was too busy trying to figure out how to pick up a bad boy. As he walked off, I saw him walk right past security to the staging area. I had blown off a wrestler I'll call New York Stock Exchange.
(in order of appearance):Excite Adult Personalshttp://personals.excite.com/
Ponytails, 900 N. Dale Mabry, Tampa, 813-875-0262
Malio's Steakhouse, S. Dale Mabry, Tampa, 813-879-3233
Iavarone's Steakhouse, 3617 W. Humphrey St., Tampa, 813-932-5241
La Teresita Restaurant, 3204 Columbus Drive, Tampa, 813-872-8212
Daddy Wiggler's, 2015 E. Seventh Ave., Ybor City, 813-968-3378
Born to Ride, List of Biker Events for the State of Florida
Club Joy's Male Encounter Night, 11921 N. Dale Mabry, Tampa, 813-968-1515
Independent Professional Wrestlinghttp://www.pw-hardcore.com
holds some events at Frankie's Ybor, 1920 E. Seventh Ave., Ybor City, 813-248-3337