Saturday, July 20, 2013
i very rarely feel demeaned at the club, and i don't even really often feel disrespected. i almost always feel that i am the one yielding the power in the situation, and that i am granting a very clear avenue for (usually) men to be present with their sexual desires without shame or judgment and with clear boundaries. the boundaries thing, on a side not, is interesting to me. in the few occasions in which i've been with cis-men who are not queer/feminist-y men, i've often not felt good communication around boundaries. in fact, i don't know why i queer/not-queered that. even in a lot of queer hook-ups and relationships i've been in, it's been hard to communicate boundaries on both sides. but at the club, men really often ask what is okay, and are really pliable when i tell them what isn't (once i've weeded out and NOT gone with the ones who just want to fuck.) but anyway, i wonder if people are just better with boundaries...or want more of them then we are brought up to think.
money has never seemed as tangible and as fake as working at a strip club. it kind of blows my mind how i can coax a man into emptying his wallet and then going to an ATM with a fifteen dollar surcharge. sex is pretty powerful i guess. i always feel like the lap dance starts when they go to the ATM lol, and i stand behind them scratching the back of their head or rubbing their back or working my hips on them or something so that they stay in the mood and don't freak out about how much money they are spending.
but anyway, back to my EXPERIENCE BEING DEMEANED. what made me feel so shitty wasn't like a guy getting over excited and trying to touch my pussy, which happens ALL THE TIME. but it was another fucking british sleazebag! i feel disgusting just remembering it...it's funny what becomes big. these two white guys in button - downs were sitting in these chairs far from the stage. in my head i decided to call them the "no dance" or better "no money" chairs, because guys sort of sit in them to be away from the action...to avoid the path way of the dancers it seems, and also to avoid having to tip whoever is on stage. so anyway, despite thinking this...in fact WHILE thinking this, i went to sit on this one guy's lap. i started to talk to him...he was british and then he said. "don't talk. i just want to watch." so i was like, whatever. and i stopped talking. and he started running his hands all over my body. at first it was fine, but then it started to feel disgusting, like SUPER DIRTY. and believe it, i have guys hands over me all night, so what about this was different? it was that vermin-like quality, this sense of oulless touch, with no perception of the humanity of the one being touched. so anyway, ti was feeling GROSS, and about a song and a half passed and i thought that i would see if i could bring him back to a lap dance room. at that moment he leaned to my ear and said "now go away." in that disgusting fucking british accent. i said, "excuse me?' "now go away," he repeated. i pulled out the side of my thong for a tip and he just looked at me. i did it again. nothing. i bent down to his ear and said, deeply and without wavering. "aren't you going to tip me for putting your hands all over my body for two songs?" he shook his head. no more than that. MYSOGYNIST SCUM OF THE EARTH. is all i have to say. i know a lot of men carry misogyny...a lot of women too...a lot of people in general. but fewer INTENTIONALLY DEPLOY IT. now that's fucked up and makes me want to go fuck some shit up. but i couldn't. but i did go over when ch-- was sitting on his lap afterwards and whisper in her ear (without making eye contact with him), "if he's anything like he was with me, he's a huge sleazebag who won't tip you anything or buy a dance."
There were many more incidents of racism as always. From the flagrant, "did you ever notice how drunk mexicans are as bad or worse than black people?" spoken by the door girl, to a more subtle instance that happened to me while walking around the room looking for customers. i often think about how racism happens on both the sides of men picking girls to give them lap dances, but also vice versa. anyway, i will take this opportunity to admit to profiling towards white men when giving dances. i'm not going to deconstruct that here, only that i am understanding a need to challenge that in myself. tonight i sat down tih a black guy who was there with his friend. he was on the outside, more so than his friend, but he was also bald and i think had lighter skin than his friend. i was chatting with him, and he said, "can you do me a favor?" and i asked him what it was. he asked if i could go sit with his friend, that hsi friend was having a not so great night because he hadn't been getting very much attention. i told him that i was working, and did he want to tip me to go sit with his friend. he said something, i don't reember what, and i asked if he wanted to buy a lap dance for his friend or if his friend wanted to buy one. he said, and he seemed genuinely upset at this point, "we've been in a lot of clubs tonight, can you tell me why no one has sat with my friend?" in my head i said RACISM, and i'm sure he knew the answer, too. he said that no one had given his friend a chance to see if he wanted a lap dance even. So i went and sat on his lap, and he was SUPER sweet, and i did give him a dance and it was lovely and goddamnit if racism isn't everywhere and sad as fuck.
Also, tonight I was standing outside with A--, and these two guys were sort of homing in on us...they finally got close, and the one guy asked what kind of a bar it was. The door girl said, "It's a STRIP club." and he said. "oh." he looked at me and said, "I thougth ya'll were an impersonator bar." Oh man I wanted to laugh so hard. And he didn't mean it as an insult he genuinely thought that, and he was a little drunk so he was really just speaking where he was at. A--, who hadn't been visible to the man as I had been was like, "oh no, baby, this is ALL real." After he left she looked at me and was like, "he thought you were a dude!" as if that had not already been clear ot me. what neither of them probalby realized was that that was like the msot awesomest compliment ever.
One of the early dances I did was with a guy who was the overseer at an oil rig. While I was giving him the dance, he said some offhand bravado about "I've done it all." I was like, "yea?" not really paying attention or caring about what he was talking about. "everything except sex with a dude," he followed. "Well," I said, "you still have time." "OH NO." he said, immediately. the next thing that i heard was, "there's no quitters on the rig," which didn't make sense ot me, so i said, "oh no?" and he said, "nope. there are no queers allowed on my rig." "no?" i said. "no." i asked him what happened to queers on the rig, if they got kicked out. He said he had had one guy and found out he was "queer" and "so i told him he had to go." GODDAMN.
"there are no queers on the rig" "i found out he was queer and i told him he had to go. also, he said that i could tell he was cajun by his accent and his attitude.
Friday, July 19, 2013
July 18, Thursday
115 after tip out -- SUCKY SUCKY night.
i was way to tired, and i didn't want to go in, but E. was auditioning tonight and I wanted to be tehre for her. I'm still worried I wasn't there for her enough. Anyway. it was super slow and I ended up leaving even though I didn't make enough money and there were still guys there, I left at like 3.15 cuz I just couldn't do it anymore.
i always wear my blue hoodie home, sort of as a disguise of some sort, to be less conspicuous. tonight, just as i had hopped on, biking down the first block down bourbon street, i passed this person walking the opposite direction from me on foot. a black, masculine of center person. as i passed, she yelled, "TRAYVON MARTIN."
115 after tip out -- SUCKY SUCKY night.
i was way to tired, and i didn't want to go in, but E. was auditioning tonight and I wanted to be tehre for her. I'm still worried I wasn't there for her enough. Anyway. it was super slow and I ended up leaving even though I didn't make enough money and there were still guys there, I left at like 3.15 cuz I just couldn't do it anymore.
i always wear my blue hoodie home, sort of as a disguise of some sort, to be less conspicuous. tonight, just as i had hopped on, biking down the first block down bourbon street, i passed this person walking the opposite direction from me on foot. a black, masculine of center person. as i passed, she yelled, "TRAYVON MARTIN."
Saturday, July 13, 2013
510 before tip out
friday night. July 12
i feel like i lost some money along the way. that it like, fell out of my purse or somethng. i should be more careful in the future. but also, i realized something super annoying. i did this room with this dude, whose name i couldnt' remember past square one. he was pretty funny in that he kept acting like it was pure kismet that we met, that we were meant to be. he kept saying "if i had come in five minute later, do you think we would have met?" and hilarious things like that. he talked about how comfortable he felt with me. also, he talked about how good i smelled. i asked him what i smelled like. he said, "i don't know. you smell like...WOMAN." later he said, "i realized what you smelled like...it's sweat." in a good way. i kind of liked playing with him. he was pretty handsome. i put my mouth all over his shoulders...bit and sucked. so he payed 100 for the room and 300 for me. but he paid with a card. so i got a check, but the check was only for 240 because the owner takes 20% off of credit card transactions. so this was a good lesson for me to learn. i also let him slap my ass a lot, because it was less work then me continuing to gyrate and kept his mind of pulling his dick out of his microfiber boxer briefs. i went upstairs afterwards and momma was like, "somebody got a hold of YOUR ass." oh i do love her.
i feel like i have the closest thing to a friend at work now. i won't write her name, but it's the name of a fast car, so i'll call her maserati, even though that sounds a bit ridiculous. she is really nice and she is also tall and she's just open and kind. the other night we were standing outside on the street tryna get customers and she was waving down the street, "i know it seems like we're so far away." she said to me, gesturing at the club four storefronts down. "that's my sister. she works there, but we never see eachother because we're have kids and we're dancers..." i peered out to see her sister. "it's like once you become a dancer," she said, "you never see anybody anymore." i could imagine what she meant. i'd only been back in town for two days and i was feeling frustrated that i was going to work before doing anything else...feeling like i still wasn't back in town but only in the alternate bourbon street universe. and i know i don't work as often as maserati does. i decided to suck up my complaining a little at that moment.
i think i reached the point of not giving a fuck. i can't really care less if the other girls don't like me or resent me or are jealous of me or think i'm a bad dancer or whatever. every time i get back in town it is a little hard to get up the courage to be on stage again. but it's not so bad, and to be honest, i've started ordering an actual drink when the first couple guys ask, and that helps. i drink vodka cranberry which i never order in real life, but i feel like my stripper persona would order. i've also started sanitizing the men's hands when we go into a room. that way i don't get so anxious when they are all over my ass. last night i was giving a dance to this man in the merchant marines, and he was like, "oh the dirty sailor and the cute mediterranean looking chick." that was amusing to me somehow.
after work, maserati and i were doing our money in the dressing room. we were having small talk, which was so lovely and i asked her what she did when she got off work. she said she usually was so tired, she just showered and went to sleep. "my boyfriend usually wants me to give him a blowjob, and i have to be like, 'baby, the sun is coming up and i havent' slept yet.'" i told her that if someone asked me for a blowjob after i got off of work i would clock them.
also guys are still so racist! this dude came in and he was like, "i'm here with a lot of my buddies, but we don't like black chicks." and did i stop talking with him? no! i kept trying to flirt with him to get a dance. i think maybe that was a case where i should have drawn the line. he didnt' stay anyway.
i went in the bathroom to take a piss after waiting a couple of hours for them to re-up the toilet paper, and Eden* scooted in quick behind me and shut the door. i like her a lot and worreid that i accidentally tipped her off earlier, when in some awkward attempt at a greeting, i sort of blocked her way out the door. that's the kind of thing that could become beef here. but she was all camaraderie with me when she came in. "i'm hiding from a customer,' she said. she had been in a 3 for a hundred room, and some guy had wanted her to fuck him. "and i was like, 'no way am i gonna fuck you downstairs in a three for a hundred room. for a hundred dollars? and if i get caught i'd get fined $50, off the $70 i get from the a hundred, i'd be fucking you for $20...i told him i was going to go get a condom, and then i left, but he just came back in, so when i saw you come in to the bathroom i followed you in." i told her i was glad she did and that he was a dick and what do guys think they are getting.
i didn't know what she was talking about but later i sat down with a group of guys and was trying to sell one of them a dance and he said that his friend had gotten stiffed on a three for a hundred. i made an excuse to leave and went and asked eden if those were the guys. unsurprisingly, they were.
friday night. July 12
i feel like i lost some money along the way. that it like, fell out of my purse or somethng. i should be more careful in the future. but also, i realized something super annoying. i did this room with this dude, whose name i couldnt' remember past square one. he was pretty funny in that he kept acting like it was pure kismet that we met, that we were meant to be. he kept saying "if i had come in five minute later, do you think we would have met?" and hilarious things like that. he talked about how comfortable he felt with me. also, he talked about how good i smelled. i asked him what i smelled like. he said, "i don't know. you smell like...WOMAN." later he said, "i realized what you smelled like...it's sweat." in a good way. i kind of liked playing with him. he was pretty handsome. i put my mouth all over his shoulders...bit and sucked. so he payed 100 for the room and 300 for me. but he paid with a card. so i got a check, but the check was only for 240 because the owner takes 20% off of credit card transactions. so this was a good lesson for me to learn. i also let him slap my ass a lot, because it was less work then me continuing to gyrate and kept his mind of pulling his dick out of his microfiber boxer briefs. i went upstairs afterwards and momma was like, "somebody got a hold of YOUR ass." oh i do love her.
i feel like i have the closest thing to a friend at work now. i won't write her name, but it's the name of a fast car, so i'll call her maserati, even though that sounds a bit ridiculous. she is really nice and she is also tall and she's just open and kind. the other night we were standing outside on the street tryna get customers and she was waving down the street, "i know it seems like we're so far away." she said to me, gesturing at the club four storefronts down. "that's my sister. she works there, but we never see eachother because we're have kids and we're dancers..." i peered out to see her sister. "it's like once you become a dancer," she said, "you never see anybody anymore." i could imagine what she meant. i'd only been back in town for two days and i was feeling frustrated that i was going to work before doing anything else...feeling like i still wasn't back in town but only in the alternate bourbon street universe. and i know i don't work as often as maserati does. i decided to suck up my complaining a little at that moment.
i think i reached the point of not giving a fuck. i can't really care less if the other girls don't like me or resent me or are jealous of me or think i'm a bad dancer or whatever. every time i get back in town it is a little hard to get up the courage to be on stage again. but it's not so bad, and to be honest, i've started ordering an actual drink when the first couple guys ask, and that helps. i drink vodka cranberry which i never order in real life, but i feel like my stripper persona would order. i've also started sanitizing the men's hands when we go into a room. that way i don't get so anxious when they are all over my ass. last night i was giving a dance to this man in the merchant marines, and he was like, "oh the dirty sailor and the cute mediterranean looking chick." that was amusing to me somehow.
after work, maserati and i were doing our money in the dressing room. we were having small talk, which was so lovely and i asked her what she did when she got off work. she said she usually was so tired, she just showered and went to sleep. "my boyfriend usually wants me to give him a blowjob, and i have to be like, 'baby, the sun is coming up and i havent' slept yet.'" i told her that if someone asked me for a blowjob after i got off of work i would clock them.
also guys are still so racist! this dude came in and he was like, "i'm here with a lot of my buddies, but we don't like black chicks." and did i stop talking with him? no! i kept trying to flirt with him to get a dance. i think maybe that was a case where i should have drawn the line. he didnt' stay anyway.
i went in the bathroom to take a piss after waiting a couple of hours for them to re-up the toilet paper, and Eden* scooted in quick behind me and shut the door. i like her a lot and worreid that i accidentally tipped her off earlier, when in some awkward attempt at a greeting, i sort of blocked her way out the door. that's the kind of thing that could become beef here. but she was all camaraderie with me when she came in. "i'm hiding from a customer,' she said. she had been in a 3 for a hundred room, and some guy had wanted her to fuck him. "and i was like, 'no way am i gonna fuck you downstairs in a three for a hundred room. for a hundred dollars? and if i get caught i'd get fined $50, off the $70 i get from the a hundred, i'd be fucking you for $20...i told him i was going to go get a condom, and then i left, but he just came back in, so when i saw you come in to the bathroom i followed you in." i told her i was glad she did and that he was a dick and what do guys think they are getting.
i didn't know what she was talking about but later i sat down with a group of guys and was trying to sell one of them a dance and he said that his friend had gotten stiffed on a three for a hundred. i made an excuse to leave and went and asked eden if those were the guys. unsurprisingly, they were.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
468 before tip-out
393 after
well, for starters, there was a "vampire party" at the club tonight. the highlight of which, judging from all of the conversation in the dressing room at the end of the night, was the "samples," i.e., "free food." one of the dancers compared the experience to sam's club. apparently the dj is a huge vampire nerd (with his own tv show?!?), and spent much of the early night melting white chocolate and red food coloring for the "blood" chocolate fountain while k- subbed for him. i want to poke a little fun at this, but also, honestly, it is hard to melt white chocolate without fucking up the consistency. it was a little silly, though. later, k- made me stand holding a strawberry under the fountain for a while whilst he took a picture that he lit with the flashlight on his iphone. all this to say that, while a portion of vampire con may have temporarily descended on the club, they were not all actually that interested in doing what one DOES in a strip club...i.e., buy dances. i'm a little fascinated by the scene though...the party was emceed buy the guy who runs the ghost and vampire tours in new orleans. apparently, they have their own house and there are different levels of initiation. other elements of the party (as it were) included a second dj, who as i perceived it, only played two songs. this was probably a let down for him, as he had an ENTIRE SECOND dj station set up, but really, that makes no sense. the music in there is uncomfortably loud as it is, how were you supposed to have two dj's at once? also, i felt bad for the one dancer who had chosen a reggaeton set and then had to end up dancing to some sped-up house music with lyrics about cannibalism. in addition, that dude who seems to have established himself as the bondage expert in new orleans was there tying people up. i think the last time i saw him was at "kiss kiss julie."
m-- and j-- gave another brutal bachelor beating...and the dj said more fucked up racist shit. m-- and j--, both perceptively white, were flogging the bachelor, also perceptively white. very intensely. and the dj goes, "your names is toby." WTF?!?
one of the other dancers passed out or od'd or something. but she was at least on her feet -- sort of -- by the end of the night.
i don't know what else to say. i was a little bored. my legs hurt a lot. i forgot how exhausting this is. the stage was fine. it felt awkward getting back into it. and i'm still not so great at it. but maybe i'm getting better at not caring.
it was a lot harder to go in today, and more stressful because i really didn't see anyone today. a- and r- picked me up from the airport, which was so sweet and wonderful and we had a great dinner and a- even took me to get groceries after that, but none of my housemates are home and i was super lonely last night. and then today i went out into the world and i didn't really see anyone i knew, and ijust wante to have some good affirming experiences of myself before work, so it was hard to be much more alone than i usually am. i made a mess in the house though.
393 after
well, for starters, there was a "vampire party" at the club tonight. the highlight of which, judging from all of the conversation in the dressing room at the end of the night, was the "samples," i.e., "free food." one of the dancers compared the experience to sam's club. apparently the dj is a huge vampire nerd (with his own tv show?!?), and spent much of the early night melting white chocolate and red food coloring for the "blood" chocolate fountain while k- subbed for him. i want to poke a little fun at this, but also, honestly, it is hard to melt white chocolate without fucking up the consistency. it was a little silly, though. later, k- made me stand holding a strawberry under the fountain for a while whilst he took a picture that he lit with the flashlight on his iphone. all this to say that, while a portion of vampire con may have temporarily descended on the club, they were not all actually that interested in doing what one DOES in a strip club...i.e., buy dances. i'm a little fascinated by the scene though...the party was emceed buy the guy who runs the ghost and vampire tours in new orleans. apparently, they have their own house and there are different levels of initiation. other elements of the party (as it were) included a second dj, who as i perceived it, only played two songs. this was probably a let down for him, as he had an ENTIRE SECOND dj station set up, but really, that makes no sense. the music in there is uncomfortably loud as it is, how were you supposed to have two dj's at once? also, i felt bad for the one dancer who had chosen a reggaeton set and then had to end up dancing to some sped-up house music with lyrics about cannibalism. in addition, that dude who seems to have established himself as the bondage expert in new orleans was there tying people up. i think the last time i saw him was at "kiss kiss julie."
m-- and j-- gave another brutal bachelor beating...and the dj said more fucked up racist shit. m-- and j--, both perceptively white, were flogging the bachelor, also perceptively white. very intensely. and the dj goes, "your names is toby." WTF?!?
one of the other dancers passed out or od'd or something. but she was at least on her feet -- sort of -- by the end of the night.
i don't know what else to say. i was a little bored. my legs hurt a lot. i forgot how exhausting this is. the stage was fine. it felt awkward getting back into it. and i'm still not so great at it. but maybe i'm getting better at not caring.
it was a lot harder to go in today, and more stressful because i really didn't see anyone today. a- and r- picked me up from the airport, which was so sweet and wonderful and we had a great dinner and a- even took me to get groceries after that, but none of my housemates are home and i was super lonely last night. and then today i went out into the world and i didn't really see anyone i knew, and ijust wante to have some good affirming experiences of myself before work, so it was hard to be much more alone than i usually am. i made a mess in the house though.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
full moon friday
first day bleeding.
350 before tip out; 275 after.
okay. first things first. i never thought i would say this. but bourbon street at sunrise almost made me cry today. with that aqueous, letting go joy. something about the neon with the streaky sky and rising sun. at night the neon is all about opposing the black night. being not of this world. but then the dawn comes back and reclaims the colors as part of this expansive universe.
so i'm getting better at some of the stripper moves. for example, i went backwards and upside down with my pussy in the guys faces in most of my lap dances tonight. also, this one where you stand with your back to the pole and your arms above your head and slowly lower yousrelf down as you walk your feet out so in the end your knees are bent and your back is parallel to the floor and you are still gyrating., well, i was the last dancer of the night, just due to the rotation, so it was like 5.20 am, and i'm doing this move on the stage and i didn't even think anyone was really around the stage it was so late, but there was this woman at my feet trying to give me a dollar, and i guess i kicked out my foot and i KICKED HER IN THE FACE. she was totally a good sport about it though, and i rubbed my tits in her face to make up for it lol. she still gave me the dollar :) and THEN! her friends (they all work for jet blue...i wonder if they were flight attendants or what), this guy and a girl, they got a dance together. it was awesome! i took two armchairs and had them face eachother so i could do stuff in between them. she was great, too, she kept asking consent for touching me places. and she RESPECTED THE DON'T TOUCH MY JUNK RULE. and kept calling him out on it. it was awesome.
sometimes i'm so fucking naive. this guy was sitting in a corner and he called me over. i'd been seeing him, but some vibe made me think he wasn't in for dances, so i' hadn't gone over. he was good looking though. i went and sat with him. he was like, "i've been here the past couple of nights, and i've seen you, so i wanted to say hello." i think he gave some nondescript compliment. we exchanged names and then he said that he wanted us to meet because "i just got back from the feds and i'm gonna be trying to take over the strip clubs." even though he said "feds" i was still not getting it. i thought he meant he was gonna buy out bourbon entertainment, the place that owns the place i work and some other places too. "oh cool" i said. so you're gonna own this place?" he chuckled. "no." he said. "the DRUGS. i just got back from the feds and i'm gonna take over the DRUGS in this area." "oh," i said. "the feds like prison?" "yea," he said, "so i wanted to introduce myself." i said that all that was "awesome," and i would "keep it in mind." then i asked him if he wanted a dance and he said no but maybe he would buy one for his buddy later. i told him about his nice smile and then went and did something else.
i think i'm just not going to touch all that shit with anything except for a ten foot pole of courtesy and flirtation. i mean, i get asked for coke all the time, but i'm not trying to be anyone's hookup, especially when there's nothing in it for me. also NO I WILL NOT LET YOU STICK YOUR DICK UP MY ASS. and if i tell you you can't touch my pussy DO YOU REALLY THINK I AM GOING TO LET YOU COME IN MY MOUTH? for god sake's people it's a FUCKING STRIP CLUB. there were these overgrown nerds who are often the nastiest horndogs and they were all asking if we would do anal. GROSS. me and ar--- and the door woman and someone else were talking about him, which is always really nice to commiserate with teh other dancers, cuz sometimes it can seem like you are having these crappy experiences all by yourself, but then someone else is like, "yeah, i'm not making any money tonight either" or "these guys are cheap" or "that guy just tried to finger me" or "he won't stop asking everyone for anal," and then it's like, "okay, it's not something fucked up about me. but anyway, ar--- went inside and went up to him and was like, "so are you the guy that is asking everyone for anal?" and he was like, "no," that guy's already out back. i have a pretty enormous crush on ar----. she's the best dancer and she always looks good, like she's not working hard at all, but you know that she is. i think she had a bad night. we were outside and she was like, "being black is not working for me tonight...you know sometimes i wish i were white." i'm not gonna lie. the strip club is yet another place where the extremes of racism are super visible. and i know i benefit a shit ton from being white. from teh ways i've already written about, but also, when i experience the racism of customers, it's like a moral/existential dilemma as opposed to a dilemma around whether i'm gonna make enough money that night.
first day bleeding.
350 before tip out; 275 after.
okay. first things first. i never thought i would say this. but bourbon street at sunrise almost made me cry today. with that aqueous, letting go joy. something about the neon with the streaky sky and rising sun. at night the neon is all about opposing the black night. being not of this world. but then the dawn comes back and reclaims the colors as part of this expansive universe.
so i'm getting better at some of the stripper moves. for example, i went backwards and upside down with my pussy in the guys faces in most of my lap dances tonight. also, this one where you stand with your back to the pole and your arms above your head and slowly lower yousrelf down as you walk your feet out so in the end your knees are bent and your back is parallel to the floor and you are still gyrating., well, i was the last dancer of the night, just due to the rotation, so it was like 5.20 am, and i'm doing this move on the stage and i didn't even think anyone was really around the stage it was so late, but there was this woman at my feet trying to give me a dollar, and i guess i kicked out my foot and i KICKED HER IN THE FACE. she was totally a good sport about it though, and i rubbed my tits in her face to make up for it lol. she still gave me the dollar :) and THEN! her friends (they all work for jet blue...i wonder if they were flight attendants or what), this guy and a girl, they got a dance together. it was awesome! i took two armchairs and had them face eachother so i could do stuff in between them. she was great, too, she kept asking consent for touching me places. and she RESPECTED THE DON'T TOUCH MY JUNK RULE. and kept calling him out on it. it was awesome.
sometimes i'm so fucking naive. this guy was sitting in a corner and he called me over. i'd been seeing him, but some vibe made me think he wasn't in for dances, so i' hadn't gone over. he was good looking though. i went and sat with him. he was like, "i've been here the past couple of nights, and i've seen you, so i wanted to say hello." i think he gave some nondescript compliment. we exchanged names and then he said that he wanted us to meet because "i just got back from the feds and i'm gonna be trying to take over the strip clubs." even though he said "feds" i was still not getting it. i thought he meant he was gonna buy out bourbon entertainment, the place that owns the place i work and some other places too. "oh cool" i said. so you're gonna own this place?" he chuckled. "no." he said. "the DRUGS. i just got back from the feds and i'm gonna take over the DRUGS in this area." "oh," i said. "the feds like prison?" "yea," he said, "so i wanted to introduce myself." i said that all that was "awesome," and i would "keep it in mind." then i asked him if he wanted a dance and he said no but maybe he would buy one for his buddy later. i told him about his nice smile and then went and did something else.
i think i'm just not going to touch all that shit with anything except for a ten foot pole of courtesy and flirtation. i mean, i get asked for coke all the time, but i'm not trying to be anyone's hookup, especially when there's nothing in it for me. also NO I WILL NOT LET YOU STICK YOUR DICK UP MY ASS. and if i tell you you can't touch my pussy DO YOU REALLY THINK I AM GOING TO LET YOU COME IN MY MOUTH? for god sake's people it's a FUCKING STRIP CLUB. there were these overgrown nerds who are often the nastiest horndogs and they were all asking if we would do anal. GROSS. me and ar--- and the door woman and someone else were talking about him, which is always really nice to commiserate with teh other dancers, cuz sometimes it can seem like you are having these crappy experiences all by yourself, but then someone else is like, "yeah, i'm not making any money tonight either" or "these guys are cheap" or "that guy just tried to finger me" or "he won't stop asking everyone for anal," and then it's like, "okay, it's not something fucked up about me. but anyway, ar--- went inside and went up to him and was like, "so are you the guy that is asking everyone for anal?" and he was like, "no," that guy's already out back. i have a pretty enormous crush on ar----. she's the best dancer and she always looks good, like she's not working hard at all, but you know that she is. i think she had a bad night. we were outside and she was like, "being black is not working for me tonight...you know sometimes i wish i were white." i'm not gonna lie. the strip club is yet another place where the extremes of racism are super visible. and i know i benefit a shit ton from being white. from teh ways i've already written about, but also, when i experience the racism of customers, it's like a moral/existential dilemma as opposed to a dilemma around whether i'm gonna make enough money that night.
Friday, May 24, 2013
full moon thursday
about to bleed, hopefull
457 before tip out, 340 after
i am so tired.
what even happened tonight?
i was not feeling sexy. but sometimes even when you are not feeling sexy, you have to pretend you are feeling sexy. this is especially true when that is your job. okay, duh. sorry.
there were all these cops from new york city in tonight. not all of htem wanted to admit to being cops. i have to admit, they were my favorite people of the night. they were all these handsome irish guys, kind of sweet. sometimes guys let me in when i am doing a lap dance, and i can just sort of drop into that space, that energy. this, i like. it feels liek we are actually doing work together or something. one of the cops came to that space. or maybe he was the only one who wasn't actually a cop.
again, there were a million people talking about how they wanted something more. i had like three guys tonight almost not get dances because they were worried about getting blue balled. i am getting better at enticing men to come back despite the fact that i'm not going to promise them sex.
the thing is, they really don't get why i won't have sex with them. one guy really wanted to eat me out, said he was the best at it. i politely declined and he said that i could just get a taste of it for a minute or something and see if i like it. i was like, NO DUDE. thanks though.
maybe the cops stood out as mildly pleasurable because there were so many other people who i found...gross and creepy and icky. including this guy who came in, older man, and i was sitting with him for a minute (thank god not on his lap), and he bought me a drink, and then i started to notice that he had open wounds on his arm and hands (one of which he had been touching my hair and stuff with) and i was like, "ummmm...what happened" and he said that he had been shot "you know," he said, "it's the quarter." and i was like, actually no i do not know and i'm sorry but you cannot touch me with your open wounds hand. then i walked away and some other girl sat with him and sat with him for a long time, so maybe he was decent. but also, no. don't do that.
i pulled this guy in from off the street, i could just tell that he was so horny and drunk and would be an easy sell. his friends stayed outside, said they would give him a half an hour. i convinced him to do a three for a hundred. he pretty immediately told me that he hadn't been with a woman for a very long time, so i told him i would jumpstart his engines, as it were...get his mojo working or something. ew though. he kept asking me if i was "excited," which is the grossest euphemism for what he was trying to say. but i had to keep saying yes! "oh yea, i'm excited..what about you, baby? are you excited?" as if i couldn't already tell that he was excited by the huge boner in his weirdly thin jeans. i think he was pretty drunk because he kept on telling me how nice my breasts were in this way that made it seem like each thought was new. also he kept asking me to "touch him." also gross. and the answer was no. i did give him a little pep talk on the way out though. about how maybe he could start to change his situation by being a better lover to himself, etc. maybe it will stick!
i want to work on my timing. like in the progression of dances, and stuff. i feel like maybe i go big too soon.
i had some nice interactions with the other dancers tonight. i like m--, who taught me the moves initially, and it's nice to see her there. also, i had a couple of instances of communicating to other dancers when i knew that guys wanted to be with them. also, there was this dude who i saw at the very beginning of the night with whom there was a bit of a language barrier, though he was able to communicate, "i want to be sucked." to which i said, no. he said he didn't want a dance because he was a student and did not have enough money. but then i saw him get a dance from D---, so I figured that he actually did. Then he saw me and said he wanted one from me too. I guess he had stuck his fingers inside D----'s thong. anyway, she told the security guy to keep an eye out for me, which gave me the heads up so i could set some really clear boundaries form the beginning. and boy did he try to break them. ouch.
also i spanked two guys during private dances. this is good because it is a technique going forward to not have to spend so much time dry-humping.
it was definitely a little hard getting back into it after being out for a week. especially the stage part, but it got better by the end. also, i think, havign to wash my mom out of my head, and tonight i got all nevrou about going back to massachusetts saturday and i don't know...seeing all my old friends...different conversation. okay. i've got to go to bed now.
about to bleed, hopefull
457 before tip out, 340 after
i am so tired.
what even happened tonight?
i was not feeling sexy. but sometimes even when you are not feeling sexy, you have to pretend you are feeling sexy. this is especially true when that is your job. okay, duh. sorry.
there were all these cops from new york city in tonight. not all of htem wanted to admit to being cops. i have to admit, they were my favorite people of the night. they were all these handsome irish guys, kind of sweet. sometimes guys let me in when i am doing a lap dance, and i can just sort of drop into that space, that energy. this, i like. it feels liek we are actually doing work together or something. one of the cops came to that space. or maybe he was the only one who wasn't actually a cop.
again, there were a million people talking about how they wanted something more. i had like three guys tonight almost not get dances because they were worried about getting blue balled. i am getting better at enticing men to come back despite the fact that i'm not going to promise them sex.
the thing is, they really don't get why i won't have sex with them. one guy really wanted to eat me out, said he was the best at it. i politely declined and he said that i could just get a taste of it for a minute or something and see if i like it. i was like, NO DUDE. thanks though.
maybe the cops stood out as mildly pleasurable because there were so many other people who i found...gross and creepy and icky. including this guy who came in, older man, and i was sitting with him for a minute (thank god not on his lap), and he bought me a drink, and then i started to notice that he had open wounds on his arm and hands (one of which he had been touching my hair and stuff with) and i was like, "ummmm...what happened" and he said that he had been shot "you know," he said, "it's the quarter." and i was like, actually no i do not know and i'm sorry but you cannot touch me with your open wounds hand. then i walked away and some other girl sat with him and sat with him for a long time, so maybe he was decent. but also, no. don't do that.
i pulled this guy in from off the street, i could just tell that he was so horny and drunk and would be an easy sell. his friends stayed outside, said they would give him a half an hour. i convinced him to do a three for a hundred. he pretty immediately told me that he hadn't been with a woman for a very long time, so i told him i would jumpstart his engines, as it were...get his mojo working or something. ew though. he kept asking me if i was "excited," which is the grossest euphemism for what he was trying to say. but i had to keep saying yes! "oh yea, i'm excited..what about you, baby? are you excited?" as if i couldn't already tell that he was excited by the huge boner in his weirdly thin jeans. i think he was pretty drunk because he kept on telling me how nice my breasts were in this way that made it seem like each thought was new. also he kept asking me to "touch him." also gross. and the answer was no. i did give him a little pep talk on the way out though. about how maybe he could start to change his situation by being a better lover to himself, etc. maybe it will stick!
i want to work on my timing. like in the progression of dances, and stuff. i feel like maybe i go big too soon.
i had some nice interactions with the other dancers tonight. i like m--, who taught me the moves initially, and it's nice to see her there. also, i had a couple of instances of communicating to other dancers when i knew that guys wanted to be with them. also, there was this dude who i saw at the very beginning of the night with whom there was a bit of a language barrier, though he was able to communicate, "i want to be sucked." to which i said, no. he said he didn't want a dance because he was a student and did not have enough money. but then i saw him get a dance from D---, so I figured that he actually did. Then he saw me and said he wanted one from me too. I guess he had stuck his fingers inside D----'s thong. anyway, she told the security guy to keep an eye out for me, which gave me the heads up so i could set some really clear boundaries form the beginning. and boy did he try to break them. ouch.
also i spanked two guys during private dances. this is good because it is a technique going forward to not have to spend so much time dry-humping.
it was definitely a little hard getting back into it after being out for a week. especially the stage part, but it got better by the end. also, i think, havign to wash my mom out of my head, and tonight i got all nevrou about going back to massachusetts saturday and i don't know...seeing all my old friends...different conversation. okay. i've got to go to bed now.
Friday, May 17, 2013
tHURSDAY NIGHT: 306 before tip out, 240 after
All of the below is from when I got home last night. But I woke up this morning with that gross taste in my mouth of having let my boundaries get crossed. or maybe that's a fucked up construction. of having them getting crossed. it's funny. dry humping guys all night long is fine with me, cuz i'm consenting. but this dude did this dick move last night where he asked for a kiss on the cheek and then turned his face. so gross. so nasty. so crossing the line. i yelled at him and made him give me money but it still felt nasty and reminded me of being a teenager in all the worst ways.i texted r-- about it when she asked me how work was last night. "boundaries by fire" i said. one thing i love about stripping is that you can set really clear boundaries most of the time, and feel in control of navigating a severely nonconsensual mysoginist rape culture, but on those select occasions where you are not in control it SUCKS.
+acknowledgment with r--y and a--- about the racist fucking practice of keeping the black dancers away from the door./
+that dude looking at r--- on the stage and, so disturbed, kept saying "she's pregnant...no, she's definitely pregnant." HE WAS SO DISTURBED. and yea, she is pregnant, but at first i was like trying to play dumb about it and then i was just like, you know that fuck what, "everyone's gotta make a buck." and he was like, yea.
+dude jordan was like, "you know, i don't even like strip clubs or want a dance, but i'm a business man and i respect your hustle," so i'm gonna get a dance, and at the end of it he's all asking for a handjob LOL. i told him i wouldn't give him one, well he was mostly like, "i mean, i have a girlfriend,so i could just get this at home, but i was just WONDERING." i told him it would probably be $300 and he said that it wasn't worth it anyway. then i todl him i'd never given a handjob, which is true. not even to your boyfriend? he said. i'm a lesbian, i said. i love telling guys that. even if it's not entirely true.
Honestly, the club is probably what most people would consider "seedy" and/or "sketchy." there's straight up drug dealers in there...pretty often. tonight, this dude motioned me over to him. his shirt was part way unbuttoned and he had arabic tattooed across his chest. it read, "
i could see getting sort of addicted to strip clubs. it's fascinating and disgusting. tonight there were some gross dudes who i just didn't want near me. and had to lay down the law.
but anyway. i'm tired, so this entry is as nonsensical as all of them. but i feel like i'm coming into my own more there. finding ways to be more me. to be silly in the ways that i am wont to be silly...in a way that is also sexier. to be mroe bold, more daring, to have fun. tonight i decided i would jsut fucking have fun.
this was annoying at one point cuz this drunk woman came in and she wanted to try on my shoes. i had been reading on stripper web about how to deal with couples...that you should flirt with the woman more cuz the guy wants to please her. this almost worked except it was there first night in town and they were holding off. but she fucking stretched out my shoes i should have known. this makes me annoyed. those fucking shoes though! what a pain in the fucking ass! maybe i can get some of those grips for teh bottom. it's just fucking annoying.
but anyway. i also am finding more ways to engage with teh other dancers in ways that feel positive. for example, when no one is sitting around stage, i started bringing guys to sit around the edge of the stage with me and tip who ever is on stage. cuz it sucks when no one is around the stage! and then it's fun to sit aroudn teh stage too. i brought guys to give money to D-- twice tonight. I like her a lot. Even though she always seems pissy when I see her now, I don't take it personally because when I first started working here, she opened up to me about being depressed, and I know she's got a lot going on on the home front. So I try to birng guys when she is dancing.
I feel like I'm getting better at dancing too. I'm having more fun with it, getting mroe of the moves down.
I dont' know what else to say. My parents are in town now. So I have to maek up an alibi.
All of the below is from when I got home last night. But I woke up this morning with that gross taste in my mouth of having let my boundaries get crossed. or maybe that's a fucked up construction. of having them getting crossed. it's funny. dry humping guys all night long is fine with me, cuz i'm consenting. but this dude did this dick move last night where he asked for a kiss on the cheek and then turned his face. so gross. so nasty. so crossing the line. i yelled at him and made him give me money but it still felt nasty and reminded me of being a teenager in all the worst ways.i texted r-- about it when she asked me how work was last night. "boundaries by fire" i said. one thing i love about stripping is that you can set really clear boundaries most of the time, and feel in control of navigating a severely nonconsensual mysoginist rape culture, but on those select occasions where you are not in control it SUCKS.
+acknowledgment with r--y and a--- about the racist fucking practice of keeping the black dancers away from the door./
+that dude looking at r--- on the stage and, so disturbed, kept saying "she's pregnant...no, she's definitely pregnant." HE WAS SO DISTURBED. and yea, she is pregnant, but at first i was like trying to play dumb about it and then i was just like, you know that fuck what, "everyone's gotta make a buck." and he was like, yea.
+dude jordan was like, "you know, i don't even like strip clubs or want a dance, but i'm a business man and i respect your hustle," so i'm gonna get a dance, and at the end of it he's all asking for a handjob LOL. i told him i wouldn't give him one, well he was mostly like, "i mean, i have a girlfriend,so i could just get this at home, but i was just WONDERING." i told him it would probably be $300 and he said that it wasn't worth it anyway. then i todl him i'd never given a handjob, which is true. not even to your boyfriend? he said. i'm a lesbian, i said. i love telling guys that. even if it's not entirely true.
Honestly, the club is probably what most people would consider "seedy" and/or "sketchy." there's straight up drug dealers in there...pretty often. tonight, this dude motioned me over to him. his shirt was part way unbuttoned and he had arabic tattooed across his chest. it read, "
i could see getting sort of addicted to strip clubs. it's fascinating and disgusting. tonight there were some gross dudes who i just didn't want near me. and had to lay down the law.
but anyway. i'm tired, so this entry is as nonsensical as all of them. but i feel like i'm coming into my own more there. finding ways to be more me. to be silly in the ways that i am wont to be silly...in a way that is also sexier. to be mroe bold, more daring, to have fun. tonight i decided i would jsut fucking have fun.
this was annoying at one point cuz this drunk woman came in and she wanted to try on my shoes. i had been reading on stripper web about how to deal with couples...that you should flirt with the woman more cuz the guy wants to please her. this almost worked except it was there first night in town and they were holding off. but she fucking stretched out my shoes i should have known. this makes me annoyed. those fucking shoes though! what a pain in the fucking ass! maybe i can get some of those grips for teh bottom. it's just fucking annoying.
but anyway. i also am finding more ways to engage with teh other dancers in ways that feel positive. for example, when no one is sitting around stage, i started bringing guys to sit around the edge of the stage with me and tip who ever is on stage. cuz it sucks when no one is around the stage! and then it's fun to sit aroudn teh stage too. i brought guys to give money to D-- twice tonight. I like her a lot. Even though she always seems pissy when I see her now, I don't take it personally because when I first started working here, she opened up to me about being depressed, and I know she's got a lot going on on the home front. So I try to birng guys when she is dancing.
I feel like I'm getting better at dancing too. I'm having more fun with it, getting mroe of the moves down.
I dont' know what else to say. My parents are in town now. So I have to maek up an alibi.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
wednesday night.
235 before tip out...170 after.
not so awesome of a night...lots of tightwads not wanting to spend money. when i had lunch with b- and a- last week, one tip a- gave, which she gave under the header of "don't be lazy" was that she doesn't hang out with customers...she counts songs...usually by the end of a song or two she can tell if they are going to buy a dance or not. i've been using that strategy, and tonight was frustrating because it was clear that almost everyone did not want a dance. or not YET. another frustrating/weird thing. sometiems guys come in and they are just READy for a dance, but tonight there was not a lot of that. i guess i have to figure out also, if i am waiting one or two songs to get a read on it, to not try to get a read on it BEFORE the first song is over. maybe just to try to be present throughout the first song and then check in at teh end of it, instead of trying to call the whole situation the whole time.
Also, I need to have a better cache of conversation topics to go over. I really lost my ability to hold htat part down tonight. And I resorted to sticking my butt in folks' junk, but somehow that just feels less effective.
That said, when I first told N- that I had started stripping, she was like, "wow, that's a whole nother movement vocabulary." And I thin kI've been a little bit in denial about how entirely unfamiliar that movement vocabulary is to me. I mean, I'd barely been in strip clubs before I started working here. But I'm starting to get it down, I think. And practicing some radical acceptance around the fact that the other dancers have more experience and more skills than I do. But I am feeling more confident on stage and am ever grateful to M- for her booty shaking lessons.
Well, I went upstairs at the end of the night after wondering if the closing customers would get a last minute dance in, and Momma and maybe C--, the security guard, were standing on either side of S--, this sweet woman who had walked me to my bike the other night and was nothing but friendly. They were dumping everything out of her bag, which I'd only ever seen once before, my first night at the club, when this dancer was accused of stealing. But in this case it was getting all her money out of her bag I guess and figuring out waht her tip outs were because she was so trashed she couldnt' even stand up. And they'd found a syringe in her bag, and I guess she, like a good handful of the dancers from how I've heard them talk about it, was a recovering heroin addict but had fallen off the wagon and had shot up in the bathroom that night. Momma was irate, the way...an actual mother might be..."there's blood on your had I can see it I can see the marks!" she was screaming. And S--'s story kept changing...first she had fallen off the wagon yesterday, then earlier today, then she finally admitted to shooting up at the club. And she genuinely seemed pretty devastated to have done so. And momma was irate, and I guess she had also cut/poked herself with the syringe when she was looking through S--'s bag, so...FUCK.
R--, the DJ said something really fucked up tonight...well, he often does...and I'm still cringing from when he played that Helen Keller song when I was on stage. But tonight he said something, I don't know in reference ot what, but he said, "shut up, negro," or something like that. I heard a voice from the left of me, one of the black dancers, sitting on the lap of a patron say something like "uh-uh" or "oh no" and she got up off his lap and walked over to where r-- and s-- were, and I thought she was going to say something, but I think she just said she was going home. So far I have not found a good way to be an anti-racist ally or a change agent in this work...not quite sure how to handle that.
C-- was back tonight.I really like her and hadn't worked with her in a while. She's super cute and sweet and genuine, and I wouldn't mind knowing her more in teh real world. I'm also fascinated by her story. I just know that she drives in from Mississippi every day, and that her brother was going to pick her up when she got off work. I wonder what their life in Mississippi is like.
This guy, when I was givign him a lap dance, kept telling me that I seemed tense. I foudn this annoying. I hate when people tell me that in general, but also, it is hard to perch above someonces groin and then gyrate your junk across their junk over and over while not exerting force. But I guess everything should look effortless.
Also, that cop was around again. And he was grabbing girls asses while we were at the door...not mine. But that was totally effed! I was like, A) that shit is SO NOT FREE. And B) ABUSE OF POWER. I don't even have anything else to say about that because it's so fucking obvious.
Also, I'm sort of over spending time with a guy only to have them say, "I don't do strip clubs, but you can come back to my hotel room." Dude, you're IN A FUCKING STRIP CLUB, wasting my time. If it helps some women out to have dudes looking for paid sex in the club, that's fine, but at least honor why you are there, and respect the business that people are there to be doing. I've had guys who I've given dances THEN ask for something more outside, which I feel like is way more respectful.
235 before tip out...170 after.
not so awesome of a night...lots of tightwads not wanting to spend money. when i had lunch with b- and a- last week, one tip a- gave, which she gave under the header of "don't be lazy" was that she doesn't hang out with customers...she counts songs...usually by the end of a song or two she can tell if they are going to buy a dance or not. i've been using that strategy, and tonight was frustrating because it was clear that almost everyone did not want a dance. or not YET. another frustrating/weird thing. sometiems guys come in and they are just READy for a dance, but tonight there was not a lot of that. i guess i have to figure out also, if i am waiting one or two songs to get a read on it, to not try to get a read on it BEFORE the first song is over. maybe just to try to be present throughout the first song and then check in at teh end of it, instead of trying to call the whole situation the whole time.
Also, I need to have a better cache of conversation topics to go over. I really lost my ability to hold htat part down tonight. And I resorted to sticking my butt in folks' junk, but somehow that just feels less effective.
That said, when I first told N- that I had started stripping, she was like, "wow, that's a whole nother movement vocabulary." And I thin kI've been a little bit in denial about how entirely unfamiliar that movement vocabulary is to me. I mean, I'd barely been in strip clubs before I started working here. But I'm starting to get it down, I think. And practicing some radical acceptance around the fact that the other dancers have more experience and more skills than I do. But I am feeling more confident on stage and am ever grateful to M- for her booty shaking lessons.
Well, I went upstairs at the end of the night after wondering if the closing customers would get a last minute dance in, and Momma and maybe C--, the security guard, were standing on either side of S--, this sweet woman who had walked me to my bike the other night and was nothing but friendly. They were dumping everything out of her bag, which I'd only ever seen once before, my first night at the club, when this dancer was accused of stealing. But in this case it was getting all her money out of her bag I guess and figuring out waht her tip outs were because she was so trashed she couldnt' even stand up. And they'd found a syringe in her bag, and I guess she, like a good handful of the dancers from how I've heard them talk about it, was a recovering heroin addict but had fallen off the wagon and had shot up in the bathroom that night. Momma was irate, the way...an actual mother might be..."there's blood on your had I can see it I can see the marks!" she was screaming. And S--'s story kept changing...first she had fallen off the wagon yesterday, then earlier today, then she finally admitted to shooting up at the club. And she genuinely seemed pretty devastated to have done so. And momma was irate, and I guess she had also cut/poked herself with the syringe when she was looking through S--'s bag, so...FUCK.
R--, the DJ said something really fucked up tonight...well, he often does...and I'm still cringing from when he played that Helen Keller song when I was on stage. But tonight he said something, I don't know in reference ot what, but he said, "shut up, negro," or something like that. I heard a voice from the left of me, one of the black dancers, sitting on the lap of a patron say something like "uh-uh" or "oh no" and she got up off his lap and walked over to where r-- and s-- were, and I thought she was going to say something, but I think she just said she was going home. So far I have not found a good way to be an anti-racist ally or a change agent in this work...not quite sure how to handle that.
C-- was back tonight.I really like her and hadn't worked with her in a while. She's super cute and sweet and genuine, and I wouldn't mind knowing her more in teh real world. I'm also fascinated by her story. I just know that she drives in from Mississippi every day, and that her brother was going to pick her up when she got off work. I wonder what their life in Mississippi is like.
This guy, when I was givign him a lap dance, kept telling me that I seemed tense. I foudn this annoying. I hate when people tell me that in general, but also, it is hard to perch above someonces groin and then gyrate your junk across their junk over and over while not exerting force. But I guess everything should look effortless.
Also, that cop was around again. And he was grabbing girls asses while we were at the door...not mine. But that was totally effed! I was like, A) that shit is SO NOT FREE. And B) ABUSE OF POWER. I don't even have anything else to say about that because it's so fucking obvious.
Also, I'm sort of over spending time with a guy only to have them say, "I don't do strip clubs, but you can come back to my hotel room." Dude, you're IN A FUCKING STRIP CLUB, wasting my time. If it helps some women out to have dudes looking for paid sex in the club, that's fine, but at least honor why you are there, and respect the business that people are there to be doing. I've had guys who I've given dances THEN ask for something more outside, which I feel like is way more respectful.
Monday, May 13, 2013
sunday night.
425 before tip out so...350
tonight was good. i think i should have tipped r--, the cocktail waitress who always looks after me, but i didn't. forgot or something. i guess i can just get her when i go in on wednesday. it just feels a little bad.
i'm getting more confident being onstage. i can't do the tricks that m- can do, and i probably won't ever be able to...or at least for a while. and i can't make my ass ripple like water like some of the other girls can either. but the thing is, i can move my body and be centered in my sexiness and guys kind of just want to look at t+a and have you stick your junk in their faces. and sometimes their disinterested assholes. those times, who even gives a fuck. cuz there are other people in the club who will give you money. but i think i am getting better at shaking my ass. which maybe is directly related to getting better at not givign a fuck. but dang it's not so fun to be on your knees so much. i wish there were a hot way to wear knee pads.
i'm figuring out the look a little bit more which is...trashier, for lack of a better term. okay, i guess i could say more garish. i wore jewels on my face today and bigger, brighter hoop earings. m-- noticed and said i was starting to become a real live stripper.
once again, if i were interested in taking money for sex. i had at least three offers tonight. including this one guy from dubai who was loaded and who r-- held for me. this is part of why i wanted to make sure i tip her, not just because she looked out for me by holding that guy, but because i think she was concerned that i was going to think she was judging me for going with him or not going with him or considering going with him or whatever. i wasn't concerned though. there was this one guy who came in at the beginning. i got a really nice vibe off of him. he was sweet and sensual, fiftiesh, jewish, from chicago, was in town for a gambling tournament, but hadn't won much yet. he asked if my parents were always supportive of me, which was sort of a funny thing to ask. i said, well, not of everything and that i don't tell them what i do. then i changed the subject. but he was my first three for a hundred, and i liked dancing with him. it's nice that so far i've at least had one person a night who i legit feel attracted to. in general i really like giving lap dances. after a while it gets tiring, or if the guys are icky or you have to keep getting their hands away from your junk. but to be honest, i just really like the feeling of someone's hands on my body, and sort of moving my body in concert with someone else, and i think i've especially been craving that this week, after having had that tryst with v--, who then left town. but anyway, he and i talked vaguely about meeting up later this week after he had made money gamblign. he gave me a note with his number, but i haven't looked at it yet. i don't know if i would sleep with him for money. gad, i've never hardly even slept with a dude. but i dunno, we'll cross that bridge. he'd have to give me at least 700 for whatever he wanted to do, to make up for what i could have made at the club on a wednesday night (a very good wednesday lol)
there's this cop who's always at the club. i don't know what the fuck he does, he just hangs around and plays with his phone. well, i guess i do know what he does then. i was standing outside in front of the club playing with my ass or something and he hollered, "hey! i need someone who can speak and read spanish!" i said, "i can," and i thought i was going to be translating some official business, and he showed me this text that was like, "i didn't attack you so bad today, nothing that warranted you using level three force against me..." or something along those lines, which i thought was....weird. so i told him what it said and he thanked me. then he asked me to write back, "you attacked me while i was sleeping," he dictated. "and that fort is mine." OMG. he was online fucking gaming. he showed me another one but it was all these weird gaming words i didn't know and any way, i was like, I'm done with you. i saw him at the end of the night and asked if he had won. at first he said no. then he said, "do i look like i ever lose?" i didn't answer. "i never lose," he said. "i never lose." what a fucking cop.
i'm not sure what else to report on. these blowhard brits came in right at the end. cockiest mother fucker i ever met and i told him so. when i first went up to him he asked me something about liking his accent...i took my time. i don't actually give much of a fuck about british accents. i mean, i did when i was twelve. but now, less so, especially on blowhard twerps. so as i started to answer, he interrupted me, "no. i'm not asking you. i'm telling you. i know you like my accent." when i told him he was cocky he said he knew. that he could be cocky as fuck because he was in a strip club. it was ridiculous. i actually wanted to punch him across the face, but it was also a funny thing. because he felt like he had so much power. that holding money and coming into a strip club with girls who wanted it gave him this power, this cockiness, this swagger. i wonder if his masculinity is like that all the time, or he likes strip clubs to give him a chance for that kind of performance. i sat on his lap for a while cuz the club was about to close and i thought he still might want a dance even though he appalled me. he wouldn't give up the accent conversation though. i told him it didn't do much for me because i'm a lesbian. he said that was hot and asked if i was "fully" a lesbian or if i was bisexual. then he asked me if i ever just wanted to..."ride a fat cock"? i asked. well, yea, he said. so i waxed on about the brilliance of dildos, and he said, well it wasn't the same...anyhow, it went on for a while until i told him to come back on wednesday and i would wear my 9" dildo and fuck him up the ass. then i went upstairs to count my money and go home.
425 before tip out so...350
tonight was good. i think i should have tipped r--, the cocktail waitress who always looks after me, but i didn't. forgot or something. i guess i can just get her when i go in on wednesday. it just feels a little bad.
i'm getting more confident being onstage. i can't do the tricks that m- can do, and i probably won't ever be able to...or at least for a while. and i can't make my ass ripple like water like some of the other girls can either. but the thing is, i can move my body and be centered in my sexiness and guys kind of just want to look at t+a and have you stick your junk in their faces. and sometimes their disinterested assholes. those times, who even gives a fuck. cuz there are other people in the club who will give you money. but i think i am getting better at shaking my ass. which maybe is directly related to getting better at not givign a fuck. but dang it's not so fun to be on your knees so much. i wish there were a hot way to wear knee pads.
i'm figuring out the look a little bit more which is...trashier, for lack of a better term. okay, i guess i could say more garish. i wore jewels on my face today and bigger, brighter hoop earings. m-- noticed and said i was starting to become a real live stripper.
once again, if i were interested in taking money for sex. i had at least three offers tonight. including this one guy from dubai who was loaded and who r-- held for me. this is part of why i wanted to make sure i tip her, not just because she looked out for me by holding that guy, but because i think she was concerned that i was going to think she was judging me for going with him or not going with him or considering going with him or whatever. i wasn't concerned though. there was this one guy who came in at the beginning. i got a really nice vibe off of him. he was sweet and sensual, fiftiesh, jewish, from chicago, was in town for a gambling tournament, but hadn't won much yet. he asked if my parents were always supportive of me, which was sort of a funny thing to ask. i said, well, not of everything and that i don't tell them what i do. then i changed the subject. but he was my first three for a hundred, and i liked dancing with him. it's nice that so far i've at least had one person a night who i legit feel attracted to. in general i really like giving lap dances. after a while it gets tiring, or if the guys are icky or you have to keep getting their hands away from your junk. but to be honest, i just really like the feeling of someone's hands on my body, and sort of moving my body in concert with someone else, and i think i've especially been craving that this week, after having had that tryst with v--, who then left town. but anyway, he and i talked vaguely about meeting up later this week after he had made money gamblign. he gave me a note with his number, but i haven't looked at it yet. i don't know if i would sleep with him for money. gad, i've never hardly even slept with a dude. but i dunno, we'll cross that bridge. he'd have to give me at least 700 for whatever he wanted to do, to make up for what i could have made at the club on a wednesday night (a very good wednesday lol)
there's this cop who's always at the club. i don't know what the fuck he does, he just hangs around and plays with his phone. well, i guess i do know what he does then. i was standing outside in front of the club playing with my ass or something and he hollered, "hey! i need someone who can speak and read spanish!" i said, "i can," and i thought i was going to be translating some official business, and he showed me this text that was like, "i didn't attack you so bad today, nothing that warranted you using level three force against me..." or something along those lines, which i thought was....weird. so i told him what it said and he thanked me. then he asked me to write back, "you attacked me while i was sleeping," he dictated. "and that fort is mine." OMG. he was online fucking gaming. he showed me another one but it was all these weird gaming words i didn't know and any way, i was like, I'm done with you. i saw him at the end of the night and asked if he had won. at first he said no. then he said, "do i look like i ever lose?" i didn't answer. "i never lose," he said. "i never lose." what a fucking cop.
i'm not sure what else to report on. these blowhard brits came in right at the end. cockiest mother fucker i ever met and i told him so. when i first went up to him he asked me something about liking his accent...i took my time. i don't actually give much of a fuck about british accents. i mean, i did when i was twelve. but now, less so, especially on blowhard twerps. so as i started to answer, he interrupted me, "no. i'm not asking you. i'm telling you. i know you like my accent." when i told him he was cocky he said he knew. that he could be cocky as fuck because he was in a strip club. it was ridiculous. i actually wanted to punch him across the face, but it was also a funny thing. because he felt like he had so much power. that holding money and coming into a strip club with girls who wanted it gave him this power, this cockiness, this swagger. i wonder if his masculinity is like that all the time, or he likes strip clubs to give him a chance for that kind of performance. i sat on his lap for a while cuz the club was about to close and i thought he still might want a dance even though he appalled me. he wouldn't give up the accent conversation though. i told him it didn't do much for me because i'm a lesbian. he said that was hot and asked if i was "fully" a lesbian or if i was bisexual. then he asked me if i ever just wanted to..."ride a fat cock"? i asked. well, yea, he said. so i waxed on about the brilliance of dildos, and he said, well it wasn't the same...anyhow, it went on for a while until i told him to come back on wednesday and i would wear my 9" dildo and fuck him up the ass. then i went upstairs to count my money and go home.
Friday, May 3, 2013
more from yesterday --
guys are often like, "how/why did you become a stripper?" i guess i would wonder too. last night, v.i.p. dude was touching my boobs and he was like, "you have great breasts." and i said, "yeah, that's why i became a stripper." "oh yeah?" "yeah. you can't get lovers to worship your tits on a regular enough basis." and i think this is actually true for me, for an element. this thing about having a body part that conforms to some beauty standard of commodification, and being such a commodified body from the start, and then wanting affirmation on this, but also a) it can never come ENOUGh from a lover in this weird way, because it is not actually real, so it sort of evaporates once it is in the air. and also b) there is that weird taste in the mouth of being affirmed in the area of objectification that can get confusing with lovers...like this affirmation that i actually WANT in a way, i also really don't want from people who care about me...if that makes sense.
i saw what i thought was a mother and daughter pair enter the club. the daughter person looked like she could be a dancer, like she was gonna audition or something. and i had a moment of being like, "oh, that's so nice," and wishing that i had the kind of relationship with my mother where she would be excited for me to become a stripper. but it turned out that they were from this church group, "the women of inward." which is a hilarious name to me. makes me think of a vagina. They brought goody bags and gave them to all the dancers. No condoms, but I guess that is not surprising. They had useful things, though. hand sanitizer and emergen-c and cough drops. a rain poncho. a tea bag. also assorted small candies. a tasteful purple business card with a butterfly and a bible quotation. they seemed to know everyone in the club and the couple of dancers who i asked about them seemed to be positive bordering on protective of them.
the guy who i did a v.i.p. with also told me that if i wore the straps of my thong below my ischial crest (he didn't use that word, but that's one i learned from a former lover), that he thought i would make 10% more money. he's probably right. i always think it looks better above, but i suppose it is more jane fonda-workout video-esque. i'll wear it low. when i was laying on his lap he just wanted them pull down. he, more than others, never tried to touch my junk, but i guess he just wanted to look at it.
at the beginning of the night when i was dancing, r-, one of the waitresses got ones and put them on stage, i guess they can do that. i appreciated it, it helped my morale. she's sweet and seems to like me. i'd say she's in her forties or early fifties. she used to work with race horses and she said she'd had her skull cracked and her back broken any number of times by now. i forget the actual number. i requested her as my server for the v.i.p. room, and i tipped her at the end of the night. it seemed like the thing to do.
i drank more than i have yet, which was really barely one glass of champagne. i still felt like it contributed to the difficulty of my one hour of sleep the next morning. but i don't regret doing it.
guys are often like, "how/why did you become a stripper?" i guess i would wonder too. last night, v.i.p. dude was touching my boobs and he was like, "you have great breasts." and i said, "yeah, that's why i became a stripper." "oh yeah?" "yeah. you can't get lovers to worship your tits on a regular enough basis." and i think this is actually true for me, for an element. this thing about having a body part that conforms to some beauty standard of commodification, and being such a commodified body from the start, and then wanting affirmation on this, but also a) it can never come ENOUGh from a lover in this weird way, because it is not actually real, so it sort of evaporates once it is in the air. and also b) there is that weird taste in the mouth of being affirmed in the area of objectification that can get confusing with lovers...like this affirmation that i actually WANT in a way, i also really don't want from people who care about me...if that makes sense.
i saw what i thought was a mother and daughter pair enter the club. the daughter person looked like she could be a dancer, like she was gonna audition or something. and i had a moment of being like, "oh, that's so nice," and wishing that i had the kind of relationship with my mother where she would be excited for me to become a stripper. but it turned out that they were from this church group, "the women of inward." which is a hilarious name to me. makes me think of a vagina. They brought goody bags and gave them to all the dancers. No condoms, but I guess that is not surprising. They had useful things, though. hand sanitizer and emergen-c and cough drops. a rain poncho. a tea bag. also assorted small candies. a tasteful purple business card with a butterfly and a bible quotation. they seemed to know everyone in the club and the couple of dancers who i asked about them seemed to be positive bordering on protective of them.
the guy who i did a v.i.p. with also told me that if i wore the straps of my thong below my ischial crest (he didn't use that word, but that's one i learned from a former lover), that he thought i would make 10% more money. he's probably right. i always think it looks better above, but i suppose it is more jane fonda-workout video-esque. i'll wear it low. when i was laying on his lap he just wanted them pull down. he, more than others, never tried to touch my junk, but i guess he just wanted to look at it.
at the beginning of the night when i was dancing, r-, one of the waitresses got ones and put them on stage, i guess they can do that. i appreciated it, it helped my morale. she's sweet and seems to like me. i'd say she's in her forties or early fifties. she used to work with race horses and she said she'd had her skull cracked and her back broken any number of times by now. i forget the actual number. i requested her as my server for the v.i.p. room, and i tipped her at the end of the night. it seemed like the thing to do.
i drank more than i have yet, which was really barely one glass of champagne. i still felt like it contributed to the difficulty of my one hour of sleep the next morning. but i don't regret doing it.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
wednesday
total before tipout: 510. after...i'd say...430?
today was better. i spent a lot of time at my altar before i went in. i lit three candles. i concentrated on the golden bubble of light all the way on my bike ride in. i thought about that thing in theater class where they teach you about status, and how people with higher status don't keep looking at people who they think have lower status than them, but people with lower status are always checking, peeking back at the people to whom they concede status. as much as it sort of pained me, i worked hard to not concede status to the other girls.
there was this one dude, with a cowboy hat from texas. he was boring but he wanted to talk to me. he was already talking to two other girls who had approached him, one of whom is the person i'm most afraid of "mean girl" dynamics from, l--, although her cute nerdy friend came in tonight and that endeared me to her. besides, that fear beloned to my other, more sapling life. i was sitting with another alabama fan, a man who was here on this trip because it was on his wife's bucket list and she has terminal cancer. he whispered to me, "i came over here to talk to you." i said, okay i'll be around later but you have to take care of them first. later, he came and talked ot me, and l- sat behind in the alcove. i had a feeling she was watching, but i didn't look at her.
i gave a threefer to the most handsome man tonight. well, i thought he was really handsome. i felt a deep connection while gyrating on top of him lol. seriously though. i kind of wanted to fuck him. or, rather, i did want to fuck him. also, it is funny people's expecations of you...in different contexts. he said he was native american, and i said, "what nation?" and he was impressed, like most people say "what tribe?" which was jsut funny to me because in all other areas of my life...well, people have different expectations of me.
i did my first v.i.p. room tonight, and i got confused about prices, which meant that i asked for more from teh dude than i proabaly would have otherwise, but he was loaded and paid. which is a good lesson in ask and yo umay be suprised. he was funny. kept talking about the hustle. i kind of feel like people were sent ot me tonight. including this guy who kept talking about the hustle and, i dunno i am too tired to say. but the hour actually flew by. we danced a little on teh couch and then standing up and then we just sort of had sexy snuggle time and talked. which was nice. he was sweet and super tall. and apparently ran some business but i never really asked him about it.
also, he was like "i appreciate that you can't just roll yoru body like a black girl" or someting like that. which was both affirming and...weird.
there is so much racism. overt. it's crazy. the bouncer always recruits me to come stand at the door and then i get there and he sends one of the black girls back inside and has me stand in her place, "watch" he says, "we're gonna get a lot more people now." also, he always let's white dudes in without id's but turns away groups of latino guys who don't have id's. there's lots more racist stuff i'm too tired to think of. oh this one girl was talking about who she wanted to do threefers with. she said to teh house mom "i'm not going with taht indian guy because i don't like to be fingered." pause. "also he's from INDIA, who knows where his hands have been."
i observed the merit of staying until the end tonight. two guys came in once we were about to close, and iw as like "okay, we're about to close," and so i convinced this dude to do a threefer with me. he only wanted to do it if i was going to be back tomorrow. i lied and said that i would be. . i figured that was okay. he had a necklace of jesus on teh cross but it was missing the horizontal part of the cross. i think on purpose.
total before tipout: 510. after...i'd say...430?
today was better. i spent a lot of time at my altar before i went in. i lit three candles. i concentrated on the golden bubble of light all the way on my bike ride in. i thought about that thing in theater class where they teach you about status, and how people with higher status don't keep looking at people who they think have lower status than them, but people with lower status are always checking, peeking back at the people to whom they concede status. as much as it sort of pained me, i worked hard to not concede status to the other girls.
there was this one dude, with a cowboy hat from texas. he was boring but he wanted to talk to me. he was already talking to two other girls who had approached him, one of whom is the person i'm most afraid of "mean girl" dynamics from, l--, although her cute nerdy friend came in tonight and that endeared me to her. besides, that fear beloned to my other, more sapling life. i was sitting with another alabama fan, a man who was here on this trip because it was on his wife's bucket list and she has terminal cancer. he whispered to me, "i came over here to talk to you." i said, okay i'll be around later but you have to take care of them first. later, he came and talked ot me, and l- sat behind in the alcove. i had a feeling she was watching, but i didn't look at her.
i gave a threefer to the most handsome man tonight. well, i thought he was really handsome. i felt a deep connection while gyrating on top of him lol. seriously though. i kind of wanted to fuck him. or, rather, i did want to fuck him. also, it is funny people's expecations of you...in different contexts. he said he was native american, and i said, "what nation?" and he was impressed, like most people say "what tribe?" which was jsut funny to me because in all other areas of my life...well, people have different expectations of me.
i did my first v.i.p. room tonight, and i got confused about prices, which meant that i asked for more from teh dude than i proabaly would have otherwise, but he was loaded and paid. which is a good lesson in ask and yo umay be suprised. he was funny. kept talking about the hustle. i kind of feel like people were sent ot me tonight. including this guy who kept talking about the hustle and, i dunno i am too tired to say. but the hour actually flew by. we danced a little on teh couch and then standing up and then we just sort of had sexy snuggle time and talked. which was nice. he was sweet and super tall. and apparently ran some business but i never really asked him about it.
also, he was like "i appreciate that you can't just roll yoru body like a black girl" or someting like that. which was both affirming and...weird.
there is so much racism. overt. it's crazy. the bouncer always recruits me to come stand at the door and then i get there and he sends one of the black girls back inside and has me stand in her place, "watch" he says, "we're gonna get a lot more people now." also, he always let's white dudes in without id's but turns away groups of latino guys who don't have id's. there's lots more racist stuff i'm too tired to think of. oh this one girl was talking about who she wanted to do threefers with. she said to teh house mom "i'm not going with taht indian guy because i don't like to be fingered." pause. "also he's from INDIA, who knows where his hands have been."
i observed the merit of staying until the end tonight. two guys came in once we were about to close, and iw as like "okay, we're about to close," and so i convinced this dude to do a threefer with me. he only wanted to do it if i was going to be back tomorrow. i lied and said that i would be. . i figured that was okay. he had a necklace of jesus on teh cross but it was missing the horizontal part of the cross. i think on purpose.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
day 3
monday night.
about to bleed.
9pmish to 4amish.
$125 after tipout...boo (worst yet)
my hip flexor on the left is so tight i can barely lift my leg. i promised myself i would take off the shoes at intervals, but i forgot.
i was talking to this sweet guy (broke, of course, but very nice and affirming...especially around my dancing, which was good because i got a lot of NOT awesome NOT affirmation from some of the other dancers tonight...eep), and he was like, "some of these girls seem really scary." and inside i was like, "yeah i'm terrified." people were pretty mean tonight. and on edge. also on drugs. i forget this. and i think it can make people more mean some times. but also, it is good for me to remember, if i am upset by an interaction, "oh this person is probably on drugs." even when that is not true, it feels true enough because the internal reality of any one person to another person is...as if being on drugs, so, why not. it is a good reminder to stay grounded.
one dancer took me aside and told me she was going to show me how to shake my ass. i think i learned a little bit. she was really sweet. she also told me that my shoes were too big and that i should have gotten a size smaller...apparently with stripper shoes its better to go a size down so your toes don't slide off the front. she said it woudl look cheap to the guys. and they always see your feet. i wasn't that concerned...i mean, even if they are at foot level it seems like there is other stuff to look at. but she was kind and helpful, and i sucked it up and was a beginner at ass-shaking. well, sort of. later she asked me what color my real hair was. i said brown and she said, "then why are you wearing a wig?" [also, the call to prayer is happening right now. and i am reading v's hilarious craigslist posts to the lesbian sugar daddy. swoon.] i said, "my hair is short. really short." she said, "are you a lesbian?" (note, she already had admitted to having a girlfriend, but i didn't feel liek we were gonna speak the same queer language so i said, "yea...that surprises you?" "kind of." she said. i said, "well i am really different in real life." "are you a BUTCH?" i thought about whether saying 'yes' or 'no' would be truer...and i said "yes." she smiled a pleased and shocked smile. "oh it all makes sense now." she said. "no wonder you can't shake your ass."
there was a really handsome french guy who came in. i sat on his lap for a while and yelled cajun songs in his ear. he was a motorcyclist. with some typical french name that i forget. he was from paris. he left with his bike gang and said he would come back for me, which he didn't. at least not by 4 in the morning. another person was nebbish and anxious, with a google t-shirt and a huge boner from the second i even brushed up against me. i was impressed. he could hardly keep from dry-humping me in the bar. i thought he was going to get a v.i.p. room...he almsot did. but in the end, he ran away. i had hoped he would save me from having to go up on stage again when i felt sooooo awkward. but he didn't. he was from san francisco and seemed like he could have been friends with my dad. the same older liberal jew uniform of unkempt hair and a t-shirt and khakis. i bet he did know my dad. or at least two degrees.
i gave a couple of lap dances to this cute fit physician's assistant with white hair and a tan and a white v-neck. he was surprised and sweet and we had chemistry and part of my wanted to fuck him. but we just did two dances instead. his friend bought him the first one...i had to drag him into the back. but he was glad. his friend was a neurosurgeon with soft hands.
i dunno what else to write. i'd be making a lot more money if i gave handjobs. this one guy kept telling me i shouldn't be working at lipstixx, that i should be at hustler. but i didn't know how to explain to him that i liked the weird griminess of lipstixx. maybe even the open meanness of it. i think he fell for me a little bit. he wanted me to come back to his hotel room, although he wouldn't buy a fucking lap dance. he said that if i came back to his hotel room, i would never have to pay for anything again. "that sounds awful," i didn't say. but i think i've gotten propositioned in this way, to fuck for money, every time i've worked.
i told his friend he looked like john cameron mitchell. and that he should watch hedwig, that that was the movie where i learned how to be a woman. the men don't really care when you tell them that you are a lesbian. well, some of them do. but some of them don't.
also, when i was feeling upset about the other women being mean, i texted b., a., and r., all my current and former stripper mentors, and they were all super supportive and encouraging. i like that.
i have to stop trying to be everyone's friend. it is my m.o. . i always want to get a sense of what is going on in the larger room, energy wise. and then try to fix it if it is off. i have to let go of that because in the strip club, the energy is always fucked up. and i am not trying to fix that, i am trying to make money. i have to ignore the girls who make me feel nervous and shitty. like not look at them. that happens a lot. girls don't look at eachother, just walk past. l- piercings in her cheeks...dimples, and she got drunk and took off her top sitting in one of the couch-chairs on the floor. later she was puking in the dressing room. other girls do coke in there. or drink red bull. or juice, that's what i drink. and herbal energy drinks. lol. okay, off to stretch my legs.
there were a couple of lesbians. i had high hopes for them, but they stayed withdrawn and to the back. super cute though.
i did not see any penises tonight. thank god.
about to bleed.
9pmish to 4amish.
$125 after tipout...boo (worst yet)
my hip flexor on the left is so tight i can barely lift my leg. i promised myself i would take off the shoes at intervals, but i forgot.
i was talking to this sweet guy (broke, of course, but very nice and affirming...especially around my dancing, which was good because i got a lot of NOT awesome NOT affirmation from some of the other dancers tonight...eep), and he was like, "some of these girls seem really scary." and inside i was like, "yeah i'm terrified." people were pretty mean tonight. and on edge. also on drugs. i forget this. and i think it can make people more mean some times. but also, it is good for me to remember, if i am upset by an interaction, "oh this person is probably on drugs." even when that is not true, it feels true enough because the internal reality of any one person to another person is...as if being on drugs, so, why not. it is a good reminder to stay grounded.
one dancer took me aside and told me she was going to show me how to shake my ass. i think i learned a little bit. she was really sweet. she also told me that my shoes were too big and that i should have gotten a size smaller...apparently with stripper shoes its better to go a size down so your toes don't slide off the front. she said it woudl look cheap to the guys. and they always see your feet. i wasn't that concerned...i mean, even if they are at foot level it seems like there is other stuff to look at. but she was kind and helpful, and i sucked it up and was a beginner at ass-shaking. well, sort of. later she asked me what color my real hair was. i said brown and she said, "then why are you wearing a wig?" [also, the call to prayer is happening right now. and i am reading v's hilarious craigslist posts to the lesbian sugar daddy. swoon.] i said, "my hair is short. really short." she said, "are you a lesbian?" (note, she already had admitted to having a girlfriend, but i didn't feel liek we were gonna speak the same queer language so i said, "yea...that surprises you?" "kind of." she said. i said, "well i am really different in real life." "are you a BUTCH?" i thought about whether saying 'yes' or 'no' would be truer...and i said "yes." she smiled a pleased and shocked smile. "oh it all makes sense now." she said. "no wonder you can't shake your ass."
there was a really handsome french guy who came in. i sat on his lap for a while and yelled cajun songs in his ear. he was a motorcyclist. with some typical french name that i forget. he was from paris. he left with his bike gang and said he would come back for me, which he didn't. at least not by 4 in the morning. another person was nebbish and anxious, with a google t-shirt and a huge boner from the second i even brushed up against me. i was impressed. he could hardly keep from dry-humping me in the bar. i thought he was going to get a v.i.p. room...he almsot did. but in the end, he ran away. i had hoped he would save me from having to go up on stage again when i felt sooooo awkward. but he didn't. he was from san francisco and seemed like he could have been friends with my dad. the same older liberal jew uniform of unkempt hair and a t-shirt and khakis. i bet he did know my dad. or at least two degrees.
i gave a couple of lap dances to this cute fit physician's assistant with white hair and a tan and a white v-neck. he was surprised and sweet and we had chemistry and part of my wanted to fuck him. but we just did two dances instead. his friend bought him the first one...i had to drag him into the back. but he was glad. his friend was a neurosurgeon with soft hands.
i dunno what else to write. i'd be making a lot more money if i gave handjobs. this one guy kept telling me i shouldn't be working at lipstixx, that i should be at hustler. but i didn't know how to explain to him that i liked the weird griminess of lipstixx. maybe even the open meanness of it. i think he fell for me a little bit. he wanted me to come back to his hotel room, although he wouldn't buy a fucking lap dance. he said that if i came back to his hotel room, i would never have to pay for anything again. "that sounds awful," i didn't say. but i think i've gotten propositioned in this way, to fuck for money, every time i've worked.
i told his friend he looked like john cameron mitchell. and that he should watch hedwig, that that was the movie where i learned how to be a woman. the men don't really care when you tell them that you are a lesbian. well, some of them do. but some of them don't.
also, when i was feeling upset about the other women being mean, i texted b., a., and r., all my current and former stripper mentors, and they were all super supportive and encouraging. i like that.
i have to stop trying to be everyone's friend. it is my m.o. . i always want to get a sense of what is going on in the larger room, energy wise. and then try to fix it if it is off. i have to let go of that because in the strip club, the energy is always fucked up. and i am not trying to fix that, i am trying to make money. i have to ignore the girls who make me feel nervous and shitty. like not look at them. that happens a lot. girls don't look at eachother, just walk past. l- piercings in her cheeks...dimples, and she got drunk and took off her top sitting in one of the couch-chairs on the floor. later she was puking in the dressing room. other girls do coke in there. or drink red bull. or juice, that's what i drink. and herbal energy drinks. lol. okay, off to stretch my legs.
there were a couple of lesbians. i had high hopes for them, but they stayed withdrawn and to the back. super cute though.
i did not see any penises tonight. thank god.
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