It wasn’t until I was 17 that I became a smoker. I don’t even remember how it began exactly, just that all my friends smoked. They, the rich kids from Greenwich, had enough Daddy’s money to drive cool cars like Porsches and Mercedes Benz, rebelling against society by being punk/goth/emo, drinkers, drug takers. It’s been 14 years of this nasty little habit and I can finally say I’m ready to give it up.
One fine night while watching TV I saw a South Florida Quitline commercial and appreciated getting the truth, cutthroat and in your face. The warnings resonated with me, brewing inside until I logged into the quit line and signed up. A few days later I got a phone call from a woman named Lisa who would become my quit coach. We went through a 15 minute phone interview about my smoking habits, set my quit date to January 18th, and four days later my free-and-clear program arrived at my doorstep, along with the first round of the nicotine patch.
Today as with every other morning, I woke up, walked and fed my dogs, poured a cup of delicious coffee, gathered my Camel Light cigarettes, lighter and stepped outside for my daily routine. I began reading the “4 Essential Practices to Quit For Life” program booklet. Sure I had heard most of the facts before, never however so well put together in one place, scientifically and realistically poignant. It was the first time I read anything that truly treated smoking cigarettes as an addiction. It hits on tracking the routine, triggers, cravings, coping with stress and withdrawal, choosing allies, medicines, and finally becoming a non-smoker. I’ve previously tried the patch, the gum, cold-turkey, books, and even hypnotherapy, but I always gave in. I know today that it is not the methods that previously didn’t work for me as they clearly work for others, it’s that I wasn’t ready. This time I am, although I must admit I’m scared to hell of failing, of giving up, the difference is I have a plan, guidance, and I’m thankful for that.
Two mornings from today that first patch will be on me. Tomorrow I’ve gotta get prepared to replace the oral fixation by buying some hard candy, gum, healthy snacks, and toothpicks.
Here goes attempt #5 in my battle against nicotine addiction. Time to say goodbye to my dear frienemy the white stick, to be painfully dumped but replaced with a healthy and happy lifestyle; the life I moved here to live.

We arrive at the door at 2AM after several pitchers at Ted’s, and I’m contemplating not going in simply because of the cover charge: $20 for guys and $10 for girls but I thought, what the heck it’s only 30 bucks.
We get in line and two guys ahead of us were already being accosted by two dancers, and not the pretty, welcoming kind. More like vultures hungry for dollar bills. I’m thinking, ohh this is going to be interesting (at best).
The venue reminds me of a warehouse, square and airy with super high ceilings. There is one main center stage, and two smaller stages, and as you would have guessed it, the DJ calls it the center, right and left stages. Pretty creative. There are love seats all around the stages, building upwards like a movie theatre. Upstairs at the back and front of the building are the private dance areas.
We take a seat facing the entrance with clear views of all stages, after all I don’t want to miss a thing on my long awaited trip to the club. The first girl gets on stage and she’s definitely quite good, twirling her body around the pole in that stripper seductive manner. Then onto the floor and swinging her legs in a circle just like in the movies. She is wearing ubber high platform heels and as she moved the silver color and shiny metallic material formed a virtual circle like glow sticks at a rave. I thought she was pretty, curvy with long dark hair, and I later found out she is Mexican, American Indian and Italian, at least that’s what she told us. Strippers don’t have any reason to lie.
Girl after girl takes the stage. I look at my boyfriend with a puzzled look wondering what the fuck? Why aren’t they attractive at all?! It was clear a lot of them had had babies as their giggly bellies and deflated tits flapped about. I saw rug burns, scars, tattoos, and too much shiny make up. Vulgar I think. One of the girls sits on the lap of a guy next to us and we hear him tell her she looked like a man. Ouch, nonetheless lol!
My boyfriend goes to the man’s room and Mexican/American Indian/Italian girl sits next to me, cooling herself with a black feather fan. She is apathetic and despondent. My boyfriend returns and I tell him he should get a lap dance from her. After all she is the only decent looking chick in the place. He declines and I take his place. She leads me upstairs, and we sit down. She is still fanning herself, looking around, waiting for the next song to begin. Finally she gets up, and manhandles me by sliding me down on the couch, evidently so she is able to sit on my lap with her (quite nice) ass. This girl has a nice body and she smells good. I let myself relax and hope for the best for my $25. Then she whispers in my ear, “Now I’m going to show you the pussy pop”. Oookay? Never heard of that before. She begins bouncing her ass on my legs, and I can feel she is literally popping her pussy from the inside. Kind of like a steroidal version of Kegel exercises. I am amazed. How the hell does she do that?? Shortly after my two-for-one dance is over and we head back downstairs and while I am not particularly impressed by her indifferent attitude, I feel the BF must check out the pussy-pop so I insist he gets one. Four minutes later he returns and tells me, “eh” he wasn’t impressed. After she makes her $50 off us, she leaves. I don’t blame her.
We order a non-alcoholic Becks (it’s gross by the way) and continue watching the girls, I suppose waiting for something, I’m not sure what, maybe a pretty girl to get on stage. It doesn’t happen. They all seem like they don’t give a shit being there and I’m thinking, ‘at least TRY to look like you’re having fun, that’s how you make money honey’.
I think back to the strip clubs I’ve been to in the Northeast where the women are lively, chatty, pretty and entertaining. A table dance means you’re getting some boobs on your face, smiles and at least the pretense that they want you. As I had guessed it, the girls at Madonna don’t get to choose their own songs, which I’d imagine is part of the problem why they are so goddamn bored. Strippers should always get to choose their own songs, a tune that turns them on, that will make them give you fuck-me eyes, that etherial, lovely, you-know-you-want-me, come hither (and give me your money) demeanor.
Instead I got no fantasy, no fuzzy sexy feelings. And it’s such a shame. The only strip club in South Beach and this is what it has to offer? It’s borderline embarrassing.
I start to think of how I’d like to buy the business and completely revamp it. I share my thoughts with my bf who proceeds to inform me of the problem with the liquor license and how the owner has tried and sued multiple times, with no avail. I’m thinking, ‘why doesn’t he just make it topless?’ then he will get his liquor license.
In any case, after spending an hour at Club Madonna we’ve had enough and leave disappointed with empty pockets. I guess what I’ve heard and read is all true. Best to take the drive across the bridge next time.

I also listened to what he had to say and am learning not to jump to conclusions (since I’m always right It’s hard work, but so far it has been paying off. Our relationship is tighter than ever, and having my best friend by my side has never felt better.

I’ve also never thought that I could be as loved as I am today. Well, when you have no father growing up, who is a girl to learn from?! You make your mistakes, and hopefully you open up and learn from them in your journey. A bit sappy I agree, but if love isn’t everything any person ever lives for, what is? And don’t say money b/c even the richest of people also need to feel love.

I guess that’s it. Taking the leap of faith has led me to find, well, love.

As I step out I am looking for my car and for my friend who is supposed to pick me up, what do I see? Nothing less than my ex boyfriend standing there, evidently he has come to pick me up. I am furious though lacking energy I go with him. He has this really annoying habit of saying, ‘can I ask you a question?’ so this trip, albeit short, is riddled with such. He starts asking me how my vacation went and blah blah blah and I simply tell him I don’t want to talk. We get to my apartment, and he asks if he can come up because he wants to see the pugs, I concede. We sit outside smoking cigarettes while he ‘talks’ to me about everything that has been going on in his head, all the ‘thinking’ he has been doing while I was away. I simply listen and nod every once in a while. He tells me he now understands why I am so upset and why I am tired of this relationship; i.e. carrying him on my back for the past two years. He tells me things will change and very soon. I don’t buy it. “Talk is cheap,” I tell him, I want to SEE change. He says he will prove to me that he is the man for me. Good. That’s what I want.
The next day I pack his things, all of which fit in 3 suitcases. As I pack I wonder if I should let him have all the nice clothes and shoes I’ve purchased for him. Hmmm.. Surely I don’t want him getting another girl on my account. But I decide so, since I’ve technically replaced his old raggedy clothes with these. And if things do not work out, that’s life. He comes to pick them up and it was the saddest thing. He says he will not give up on us, I start crying, he wants me to give him another chance, and I nod yes. He leaves.
Thursday he calls and wants to spend some time together, take the pugs to the park, and maybe grab a cup of coffee. As this plan is non-threatening, I agree. After all how am I going to know where his mind is if I don’t spend the time to find out? We make our way to the beach and while playing with the pups we sit down and talk. I want to mostly listen because it’s the only way I will know if he really has changed, and woken up to the reality of responsibility and planning for the future. He tells me his plan of updating his resume so he can get a job/internship/temp job in his field of IT; he tells me how he plans on getting a second job so he can catch up on his debts. All of that is exactly what I want and I’ve been waiting for the past two years, but I wonder if he’s doing all of this just to get me back or if he has REALLY changed. My mind goes back and forth, all the time, between trusting his words and being suspicious of his agenda. Nonetheless we spend the day, and night together. The next morning he leaves with hopes that we can have dinner Friday night, and hang out Saturday before he goes to work. “We’ll see,” I say.
Frankly if he is spending all this time with me, surely he is not DOING what he is supposed to be doing to get this life on track, so I decline both plans and explain my reasoning.
Yesterday I went to the beach and while waiting for my fabulously funny gay friends to arrive I ring my mom. My entire life I’ve had a very weird relationship with my mom. She and I have always been different in the way we think and how we lead our lives, however I find that the older I get, the more I understand her point of view, especially when it comes to settling down (after all she has been through two marriages, me zero). You know what they say that first marriages occur from love and seconds for money. My mom married my father out of love but he has always been a total douche bag, never made the time nor contributed financially to any of his children (he has four), and always glued himself onto some foolish woman who supports him in every way. A) I am NOT those women; and B) I want both a loving and a fiscally responsible man. Trouble is, does he exist?! My mom adores my ex and sees that he clearly loves me and would do anything for me (hmm anything?). But she proceeds to tell me what her grandmother used to always say, “Pau que nasce torto, morre torto” (translation: a wood stick that is born crooked will die crooked). Although this resonates with the logical me, I don’t truly believe that people cannot change. I’ve changed, and continue to do so on a regular basis. I mean, what good is living life if you can’t learn from your experiences and that of others?! Those who don’t change are average, at times ignorant. They will never participate in the wonders of life and all it has to offer. I never wanted that for my own life, why should I accept it for someone I love and intend of marrying? Mother worries that even though things may change now, surely he will revert to his old ways after marriage. Is this true? Obviously I have no idea because I’ve never been married, but I have observed that relationships tend to deteriorate after tying the knot. Why is that?? She adds that I should keep in mind that if things go back to the way they used to be after getting married, there would be a good chance I’ll be paying him, dare I say it, ALIMONY! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! There is no way in hell I will have worked so hard my entire life just to give it all away. A Prenup goes without saying.
So you see, there is a lot to think about here. I’m stuck between the first part of ‘B’ which I already have, and the lacking powerful force of its ladder counter part. And with mom’s warning, should I even bother waiting around to see? Is it even worth it?
Urg, I’m so confused…

Back in my stateroom, I order food, some kind of sandwich and a Cesar salad with salmon, doubting I’ll be able to eat it. Food arrives, I am not hungry, but my head feels fuzzy so I better. Shortly afterwards I crash, alone in my kind size bed, wondering ‘What am I doing here??’ This is 9pm. At 12:51am I am awoken by loud people, partying, being drunk and having a good time. At 3am, I wake up again from bright light flashes outside my balcony, I walk out, storm. Lightning far far away is so beautiful. Flocks of what appeared to be white lit birds around the ship, as if to warning us from the storm ahead. I wonder if we’ll be passing through it. I go back in, close the curtains, and go back to my bed, alone… ‘What am I doing here??’

I think of how sometimes you give too much and you end up regretting. Other times you don’t give enough and you end up regretting. Maybe it’s not even regret. Maybe it’s just that if only you knew then what you know today, better choices would have been made. Maybe people come into your life to simply teach you something, and that’s their role. Nothing else. Yet at times I wonder if it should have been more. Idillic isn’t it? Romantic perhaps. Yes perhaps romanticism overpowers it all. Fantasies even. Ridiculous.

As I leave the shower, my skin is crimson, my face flushed, and my body feels slow, weak, post orgasmic. I fantasize we’ll cross paths again, and I’ll make myself his. To be done with whatever he wishes. He will be rough, heavy handed, ferocious from all the time I’ve made him wait to have me again. If only he would forgive her. He will get his revenge, then walk away, never to seek her again… My guilt is ever so consuming. There isn’t much I regret, nor am I shy to discuss it. This one, this one will forever be imprinted like the scarlet letter, in my chest, in my heart, never to be forgotten nor forgiven…