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.
