My whole life I've been an introvert. I never did after-school activities. Karate class was the only thing I actively looked forward to.

Sports, musical performance clubs, creative type stuff, none of it was cool. The first thing I wanted to do when class was over was to just be home. That conviction never really left my head. When I got older, those around me started going to parties and clubs. I was still the same kid at heart.

Social anxiety, awkwardness, a friend circle that included like 4 people, all things that don't mesh well with nightlife scenes...So why the fuck am I here? Why am I in a club where women tease the highest tipper? Why am I here when I can see the same kind of nudity for cheaper or even free online? Simple answer though there's no underlying message here. It's for the food.

Everyone raves that this strip club has the best wings in the city. By far. Better than all the bars, better than all the restaurants, better than any of the three major sports stadiums.

All the food vlog pages have a mention here. Rappers frequent here. And of course, Leo is a regular. Even though he's a perverted idiot, he's never been wrong about a food recommendation.

As I came in I was recognized by a few patrons and even one dancer. Being a UFL player in a place like this is bound to attract some eyes. The hood arena and the club scene have similar audiences. I wouldn't get recognized in a Walmart in the middle of the day. An underground fighter is far from something like a mainstream celebrity. Three kinds of civilians are likely to recognize me:

1. People who recognize my tracksuit from Worldstar uploads of my fights.
2. MMA fans who watch UFL streams.
3. Partygoers that attend events like that for fun and partake in cheap alcohol.

I came into this place with just food in mind. The smile that resulted from being recognized threw me off a little. It's weird. A younger me would've felt too awkward and ran the fuck out. But here I am, making eye contact with a beautiful exotic dancer as she points and recalls her favorite fight of mine...Trippy.

As I go to the counter to order, I'm genuinely enthralled by the bartender's tattoos. The art is immaculate, and it compliments her skin beautifully. She asked for my order with a smile. As put off and uncomfortable as I felt walking in, I've gotta say the staff is mad friendly. My perception is challenged by the almost neighborly atmosphere. The patrons are having fun. Some are wanna-be players that smell of department store cologne. But you don't start a business like this without a sustainable gathering of paying customers. A lot of which are women partying.

Also, I don't undermine the athletic ability these women possess. It's a genuine art form, the fact they're naked and doing it for money doesn't remove the grace from that.

It's a hustle. We all have our own. In mine, I'm actively looking to cause harm to another living individual. Here though, the intentions are good times. An overwhelming amount of respect was gained in the course of one evening. I fight in an arena for the Atlanta night crowd. These performers dance for them. Both "jobs" thrive in such a twisted but beautiful city.

I realize how...not out of place, I feel.

I got so caught up in all that I didn't even ask for a to-go box. I simply took my plate and sat down.

Shit is good though...the wings are fuckin good too.