In all honesty, I have met very few men while dancing that I would consider a friend. I can count them on one hand and still have some fingers left. One of those men passed away last week. He was 64 years old, incredibly funny, very genuine, and overall just great to be around. I saw him at least once, usually twice, a week for the last 2 and a half years. I looked forward to seeing him, and really not because of the money. I'd be lying if I said it won't effect me financially, but I don't really care. That's not the point. I knew something was wrong when I didn't see him for nearly two weeks. I heard his favorite song on the radio yesterday and I (while in a Target parking lot) googled his name on my iphone... at which point I found the obituary. Heart attack. I started crying and calling the other couple girls who would sit with us from time to time. There is a guestbook online where people can write their memories of him, so the family can read it. I keep wanting to say something, but I know I can't. I know his wife knew he came to the club, I know it wasn't a big deal.... but I still feel like it's not my place to write something. Afterall I'd have to sign it and then his family would be like "who the hell is Chrys?" or I could sign it "anonymous", but that would look even worse I think. It's weird. I feel like this little outcast person he knew, lol. I'm glad there are at least a couple other people at work I can share stories with. It still doesn't seem "real". I'll probably be at work for awhile just expecting him to walk around the corner.![]()



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