Oh Honey

Yesterday I was at work with my laptop. I'm working on writing a piece when one of my co-workers needed to borrow my computer. She saw the title and started reading it saying "My... vagna...

mon...log... ooee" She then turned to me and asked "Whats a monlogooee?" Well the words were vagina and monologue. She's 24 has two children and can't read well... And has no idea what a monologue is. It's difficult for me to understand how and adult is unable to pronounce/read simple words like this and have no idea what they mean. 

My response was "Oh honey." And explained. What else is there to say? I don't want to be mean. But really!!! 

I Can Do Better

The thing that irritates me most is when snotty girls come into the club and sit at the stage. Most girls that come in are fine, but there are the few that suck.

It's a lot of fun when you're on stage and you hear a girl voice saying "Oh, I can do that." "I can do that better." "I don't understand why this is so special I can do that too." "Okay that might be a little impressive."

My response to this is "Can you do it as well as I can? After 11 HOURS of doing this?" I said this. Her response was "Wait... 11 hours? And if it's so easy why the hell aren't you up here taking your clothes off for money?" Her friend replied to the stupid girl "Shut the fuck up. You can't do any of it. You can barely stay up eleven hours let alone work for eleven hours." My response was "thank you."

How Much For Sex?

I'm at work right now. Because of my upcoming trip to London I am working every day for 12-14 hours. It's tough, but I am making pretty good money. First of all, today has been a great day. My regular, who I haven't seen in a month, came in. (Yay!) Stages have been amazing. The best part of my day: I got a VIP. This is the second I have ever had, and I've been doing this for over a year now. (I celebrated my anniversary a week ago.) I didn't have to work for it. He just asked. So for the day shift, which is six hours, I made $400. I'm into hour 8.5 of 12 and am at $470. (That's after tip-out, night shift house fee, and tomorrow's house fee.) So good. I really need everyday to be like this. I don't even need it to be this good, but better is ALWAYS good. This irritates me so much. It wouldn't be an issue if it happened once in a blue moon, but when it happens several times throughout the week and even the day, it gets old. I am a stripper, not a prostitute.

I took an hour break to get out of here for a little while. Fresh air, errand run, call Jamie. I came back and was put on stage immediately. I made $40 on my first stage. The moment I was off stage I was taken to private dance for two songs. Good things. Except the whole time he kept trying to suck my boobs, touch my pussy, and more importantly "Sex? What cost?" If you haven't guessed, he's a foreigner. I said no several times and said that I don't do that. He then decided to put a price on it; like that would change my mind. "One hour $1000." No. "Half hour $1000." No. "One hour $2000." No. "Why not?" No. "How much for sex?" Never ever gonna happen

Walking Masturbation Machine.

Private dances are my least favorite part of my job... Other than the men. There are MANY different kinds of private dances. My favorite are the dances are when we sit and talk. The next best thing is having a guy that wants me to dance for him, but doesn't want to touch me because he's uncomfortable with it. Next is the dances where there is touching, but the kind of touching that is soft and gentle (this doesn't bother me that much because they are good guys... generally). The next is a private dance where the guy is really rough. (Sometimes leaving bruises and even worse draws blood.) The absolute worst, however, is when the guy grabs me by the hips and makes me go forward to back on his crotch or bounce up and down. This is what I call the masturbator. These guys only come to the club so that they can get off.

That last kind of dance is the worst. There is nothing good about these guys. They make me feel like a walking masturbation machine. I already feel like crap about my job. Thank you for making it so much more obvious what I do, and what my "true" purpose in life is... as a woman.

Lucky

I try not to talk about Jamie a lot at work. I don't like mixing those two. It's hard to talk about work with him because he hates my job. I hate it too, but sometimes I need to talk about it. I hate talking about him at work especially to the men. When I do, it makes me feel more like a whore than usual.

I bring Jamie up for two reasons.
-The first reason is used far more often. I bring up Jamie to distance myself from the guy. They start getting touchy-feely in the creepy "I want to date you" kind of way. So I bring up Jamie and how we're very, very, very serious and completely and totally in love. I also make sure to tell them that no man will ever even come close to comparing. With the this the guy has one of two reactions. The first reaction is that the guy gets pissed off and wants me to leave him alone. Which I am more than happy to comply with his wishes. Or the second reaction is the more common and the one that pisses me off "Oh... Well you make sure to tell him I say he's a really lucky guy." Here's the reaction that goes through my head: "I'm not going to tell him that! How dumb are you? Telling him he's lucky that I'm awesome, from a guy that is paying me because I'm a stripper. Oh my God! You're a genius. That's totally what gets him going. Being reminded that I take my clothes off for money." Here's my real reaction: "Thanks." I get up and leave cause the guys a douche.
-Second reason is to bring myself closer to a guy. I the case of a regular there comes a conversation, farther down the line where they want to know about my personally life. In order for them to feel like they have my confidence and are truly getting to know "me" I tell them about Jamie. I make up fake problems that we. They feel like they can help me talk through them. This allows us to be "closer" and then I make more money. I hate talking about Jamie, but in this circumstance all they get is his name. They don't learn anything about him. They still tell me "he's lucky."

Lucky. He's lucky that I make a lot of money because I take my clothes off. He's lucky that other guys get to touch me. He's lucky that I flirt for a living. He's lucky that thousands of men have seen me naked. He's lucky that something so personal is there for any one to see if they pay the right price.

I don't know how he deals with it as well as he does. He's special. He can keep living and keep loving me even through this job. He is stronger than most. I'm going on my anniversary of working at the club. Jamie and I have been together almost a year and a half. I have been working for twice as long as we've been together. It's hard for me. I don't know how it's not killing him.

You know Jamie is a real lucky guy.

Naked

I just got out of class. I should have gone into work, but I ran into two of my good friends. I ended up sitting and talking to my friend MJ. We have two more days left of school. Tonight she has her performance art piece. For the piece she is naked and wrapped in cellophane and walks down the aisle. At the end of the aisle she breaks out of the cellophane and walks back out of the room naked.

My reaction was: That takes so much bravery. I could never do that. It's weird because I'm naked in front of hundreds of people that I don't know. She's doing it in front of people that know her, support her, and love her. I do it in front of complete strangers that only want to have sex with me. I can't get naked in front of people at school...

For me there is a huge separation between work and my life. In life I am never naked and a prude. I'm actually somewhat conservative with the way I dress. At work, I show everything off. I separate work and life so much that I have no idea how any one can get naked in front of people. The moment I walk into the club though, it's different. I can show it all off, and walk around in underwear.

I'm naked. I'm naked at the club literally. In life I'm emotionally naked. No one can tell because I hide it well. But I'm always on the brink of crying when things get hard. And if I'm honest... They are always hard. Being naked in front of a crowd is easier than being emotionally naked. I can bare showing my body. I can't bare showing my feelings. It's too open. It's too raw. It's me. I don't want people to know me. If they do, it's too difficult to keep up the facade.

I compartmentalize. I have to. There's work, and there's life. I talk about work often in life, but it's with a touch of humor. I don't think about work much because if I do it is too much to bare. At work I talk about life but I don't think about it. If I don't compartmentalize my life into two distinct sections I wouldn't be able to muddle through. Half the time I think that's what I'm doing. Just surviving.

Friends

So tomorrow I have to go to work. :( Oh well. I have to get used to it because I will be in the club six days a week next month... Yay!

Anyways, tomorrow will actually be a fun day at work because my three best friends are coming! None of them have been to the club before, so they are all excited, but a little nervous. Vera is the most torn. She's excited, but she also knows that I'm going to be using her to make some money. She's not sure what I will be doing with her. So it's fun for me because she's a little nervous. I'm going to make Alexis take a couple shots before we go, so then she will loosen up and have a bit more fun.

I'm looking forward to it. It won't be as lonely. They will also understand more clearly what my job actually is. And they will get to know who my "club" persona is. They haven't seen it, and it will be nice so I won't have to describe it.

I'll let you know how it goes! But YAY!!! I get to share this part of my life with my friends.

Boredom

I'm so bored and I have nothing to do right now, so I thought I would write a post. I was just thinking about a regular that hasn't crossed my mind in about six months.

I live and work in Iowa. I wouldn't think that Iowa would be a huge business destination, but I have a huge number of clients that are from out of state. I tend to do really well with this crowd. I like them best of all too because it's usually their first time in and they don't know the rules. This means that they won't touch me because they think they will get in trouble. They're also more likely to be lonely and more interested in my conversation. They also have more money, on average.

I met this regular last June. He came in two or three times a month for five months. He was from California. Most the time he stopped in when he was in town for work, but sometimes when he had nothing else to do and wanted company, he would fly to Iowa just to me.

There's a turning point with regulars. They can go one of two ways. The regular forms an attachment that is of the romantic sort. You need to cut these regulars because these are the ones that will turn into stalkers. They can also go the way of friendship. These are the ones that come into the club that want company and just to talk. They  no longer get dances. These are also the ones that you can convince to help pay your bills. We keep these regulars.

Anyways my regular from California started going way of stalker. I eventually had to tell him I no longer wanted to see him any more. Because he lived in California I was pretty safe of never seeing him again.

I don't know why I thought of him today, but I did.

21

I am preparing myself...

To turn 21.

I should be excited about this, but I don't know. This number holds so much weight in society. It's the "Congratulations you're finally an actual grown up" Birthday. For me it's just another day. I'm not huge on celebrating Birthdays, at least mine anyways. I love celebrating other peoples. My own just seems so over rated.

I've been planning my 21st birthday for almost fourteen years. I was seven and out to dinner with my family. Another table had ordered a bunch of umbrella drinks. My seven year old self was very much attracted to these umbrellas and wanted one of those drinks. My dad told me they were for grown ups and when I turned 21 I could have one. I asked him what it was called and he told me "Mai Tai." I told him "When I turn 21 we're going to have Mai Tai's together." My dad laughed and said he'd be there. Here I am the day before my 21st and I will be leaving to go home tomorrow morning. I'm going on a double date with my younger brother and his girlfriend for lunch. For dinner, almost fourteen years later, we are going back to that restaurant and my dad and I will each have a Mai Tai. I'll go back to school and probably do homework. I'm sure it's one of the more laid back 21st Birthday's, but it will be nice.

The other day I had been teasing Jamie that on the way back from my parent's house we should stop by the casino, that is on the way. That way I could get my first time gambling out of the way too. I was joking because I don't like wasting my money. He's taking me serious and we will be stopping on our way home.

Unlike Jamie, I will remember my 21st Birthday.

Minimum Wage

It's May and it's a really bad month to work... or be in need of money. It's finally warmed up outside, so everyone wants to be outside doing outdoorsy things. They don't come into the strip club.

Up until this month, my worst day ever had been when I made $60.00 in a six hour shift that is still ten dollars an hour. This month, I have left three times making less than $25. That's less than minimum wage. I get NAKED!!! I should be making far more money if I have to get naked.

People always think that strippers make lots of money. Most the time, I do make quite a bit of money. There are lots of days when I make minimum wage.

UGH!!!

Saturday Night

I haven't worked a Saturday night in over five months. Last night I did... And it was awful. Usually the club is packed with upwards of 500 people. (Five hundred being a slower night.) There might have been 250 people in at its peak. No one made any money. I went home with $200 and that was a lot better than what most people made last night.

There were 52 girls in last night. I have never seen so many. I went up on stage once, and I didn't get a single private dance. It was terrible.

Last night was interesting though. I had a few realizations. First, there aren't many girls working that have been there longer than I have. Out of the 52, there were only five that pre-dated me. A lot of the new girls know who I am, but they've never worked with me. Everyone was commenting that they were happy to see me and were very surprised that I was there. During day shift everyone treats eachother pretty equally, but at night there is a hierarchy. Last night I was given the respect of a veteran, and that felt weird. I feel like I just walked in a few weeks ago myself. Second, I found that I don't know how to work a night shift anymore. It's been so long, I was having a hard time. Third, I realized I am very convincing and determined.

I've been wearing the same clothes at work for a year now. Pretty boring and basic. Nothing special at all. Since I work a lot of day shifts, I don't need to be flashy and new and sparkly. I can wear a tight t-shirt and boy shorts and everyone thinks it's grand. At night, you have to be better than that. So, with the very little money I had before work, I went shopping for three new outfits. If you get to know me outside of work I wear lots of bright colors, but at work it's a lot of black. Well I bought a green outfit, a purple outfit, and a white and black polka-dot outfit. People seemed to respond well to it. ...If only there had been more people.

I got to work at 8:30. My make-up was already done so I was on the floor by nine. At ten I ran into a guy I haven't seen in a few months. He doesn't get dances, which is fine because I enjoy talking to him. He left at 10:30 and I had $40 in my pocket. I didn't make any more money until my stage set at 1:30 in the morning. (Normally on a Saturday night, I would be on stage two or three times.) My very first stage there was a bachelor. I went over to him. His friend said "Beat his ass." I wasn't in the mood so I said no. I said congratulations and gave him a kiss on the cheek. As I did, he hauled off and hit my ass. It hurt. Immediately, I open handed him on the side of his head as hard as I could. He was stunned and said "What was that for?" "If you hit me, I hit you harder." He kept trying to put dollars on the stage and I ignored them. He got pissed and told the bouncer I hit him. The bouncer knows me well and asked "Well what did you do to deserve it?" When I got off the stage I had a medium pile of ones. I was sitting and sorting them when I guy came up to me "Hey you're rich you can go home now." I looked at him "Look around. It's crap. I am barely making minimum wage." He looked at me "It's not how much money you make it's how big the pile looks. That's all that's important. It's not like you have anything to buy but drugs and alcohol." I walked away.

After stage and putting aside tip out and house fee, I had $100. Remember, I did not have a single private dance and only one stage set, and yet I went home with $200. How did I make that extra hundred you ask. Well that is determination. A few days ago I had been told that I should tap into my blue eyes. Well 3:30 hit and I still only had $100. That was not enough I said.  I needed more. I sat down on the guy's laps. I smiled my dimply smile and looked them very squarely in the eye. Not in a "stare down" way but in a "I'm so enthralled with what you're saying I can't take my eyes from yours." After a few minutes I would say in a whispy, meek voice "Would you like a private dance?" While slightly raising my eyebrows and widening my blue eyes. No one had money at  this point. But everyone grabbed their wallets to check. "I don't have enough for a dance..." I would look down and then up saying softly "Well that's alright." As I would motion to go they would hand me all the money in their wallets "It was so nice talking to you." I would kiss them on the cheek and say good night. I did this until I had $200. I feel a little bad about taking their last money, but I never suggested or asked. They gave. I need to use my eyes more.

Inner Circle

It's been awhile since I've posted. Sorry! I've been working twelve hour days at the club and I haven't had much time to write.

I've been working at the club for almost a year, and I finally feel like I have been accepted into the inner circle. The inner circle is made up of the girls that have the highest earnings, the girls that no what they're doing, these are some of the best girls in the mid-West. Skill wise and money wise, I'm on the same level, but I was never accepted into the group. And I never figured out why. I had thought it was because I was still new, and they didn't trust me.

Work has been very slow this past week. Yesterday there was a long period of time when there was no one in the club. Lately the top earner, and the most respected girl at the club, has been talking to me. She and I have a long history, and I will get into that in a later post. Yesterday she told me that she did not want to talk to me or help me out as a beginner because of my potential. She saw in me an ability to make more money than anyone else. She never wanted to help me because she knew if I tapped into my potential, she would start losing money. She views me as her biggest competition. She had everyone else keep me at arms length.

In the past two weeks I have gone from being on the outside of the inner circle to being on the inside of the inner circle. I never thought of myself as being the competition. I've always been there to make money. I keep my head down, so I don't step on anyone's toes.

It's a little funny. I hit the point in my "career" where all I want is to be done, and that is the point where everyone starts to accept me. It doesn't make the job any easier, but at least I know why I was treated so poorly for so long.

Will It Get Better?

I need to be sad for a little while because my life is overwhelming right now. I realize my life is not terrible, but I feel like it right now. I am going to vent all of my frustrations and feelings. This doesn't happen often, but sometimes I need to. And the two friends I need right now are out of town.

First of all, and this is the most pressing, I have a heart condition and I'm going to London for two weeks this summer. How do these two relate? London costs a lot of money to go, and I need to make a lot of money. My heart condition has made me take almost four weeks off of work because it has been acting up. So, in order to pay all of my bills and go to London I need to make damn near $9,000 this month. That is soooo much money. I'm stressing out so much. London isn't just this fun trip either, I got into a translation program that could end up making my career. So, part of it is a vacation, but the reason why I'm going is for my education/future.

Second, Jamie dropped his phone, iPhone, last night and it broke. So that's $150 that we didn't have that we had to spend today. I'm not mad at him; I'm just mad that all I do is spend money and never get to put it towards savings, the trip, or things I want/need.

Third, Jamie forgot how much money he had and what bills needed to be paid. (Usually he is very, very good about this.) Anyways, I just found out today, that I need to come up with almost $500 to pay for rent by tomorrow. And I need to pay off the tires we bought six months ago. All of this is within the next three days. And I'm going to be out of town tomorrow. And I'm sick and having chest pain. And I'm just dying... Or at least I feel like I am.

Fourth, I'm not sleeping well at night because I keep dreaming about a time in my life that I would rather forget. A VERY long story short: I dated a guy from 17-19. I was very depressed and suicidal. He raped me for the full two years we were together. There are many, many, many reasons why I didn't leave him. Eventually I did. Because it was such a traumatic period of my life, I blocked  a lot of specific incidents out of my mind. The last month or so, I have started remembering things in my dreams. It keeps me from sleeping well. It's hard because I don't really talk about anything specifically to anyone. My personality keeps me from confiding in people or talking to anyone about it. My good friends call me all the time because they need to talk about things going on in their lives. I love that they do this with me, but I've just realized that I've never done that. When I tell things that happen to me it's very non-specific and I drop it into conversations because I don't want it to be a "big" thing. Even though the things I need to talk about/should talk about are really big things. I know how to be a friend that is there, but I have a hard time letting my friends be there for me.

Fifth, I really hate my job. I cried all the way to work today. I'm angry that I have to be here. I'm angry that no one is here to pay me. I'm angry that I don't get to be a normal college student. My good friend Alexis, tells me that I need to go to work with the attitude of "this will make a great blog post." She tries to make it sound bearable, and she wants the best for me. And I love her for it, but it doesn't make it any easier to go to work. The blogging is cathartic, but quitting my job would be more so.

I was in tears walking on campus today talking to Jamie because of the stress from all the money I have to make. I don't know how or if I even can make enough. I'm not normally emotional and I seldom cry. But today I've been crying a lot. My heart condition is acting up and making it really hard for me to work. My life has been hard and difficult, and I just want it to be easy. I know my life is "better" than what it was, but it's not necessarily good. I have a wonderful boyfriend. I have super supportive friends. But I want to quit my job. I've been trying to have a social life at school. In order to have a social life I have to give up working, and I can't do that. I just want to be a normal college student. With normal problems. I want to be worried about finishing my paper. I don't want to have to worry about paying $2500 in bills every month. I want to go out and party (sans the drinking). I want life to get easier. I don't want it to be this hard. I just want my life to get easier.

Relationships

Because I strip and I have a curious mind, I have done a lot of research on stripping. I have read a lot of books and articles about stripping.

It's interesting how all the scholarly material is done about the client-stripper relationship, the stripper's relationship with herself, the stripper's personal history. If you think about each one of these things the research done isn't overly surprising. I'll sum it up for you.

The client-stripper relationship is interesting. There are two types of guys that go to the club. 1) The kind that go regularly. 2) The kind that go with a group for a social outing. The first kind is not what the public usually expects. These men are in a few different situations, but tied together by the bond of loneliness. They are usually single workaholics, men that travel and are away from their families or don't have families, or men that are older and don't like their wives anymore. These men want attention and don't have anyone else to get it from. These men develop a bond with a certain girl and only go into the club for that girl. The relationship is not based on anything sexual. It becomes a companionship. These men are so lonely they will pay to feel loved. (For the strippers this is how we make our big money. We develop regulars on certain days and we cultivate the bond they feel for us. We may or may not care for them, but they care for us. Because of that we are able to milk them for money. It's not nice, but it is the way it works.) The second kind are there because of their friends. They don't come that often and when they do the "group" mindset takes over and they aren't usually very kind. They are there to make women feel like sexual objects and use us. They may get a dance or two, but they tip well at the stage. They want the girls to flirt and flatter and lead them on. They usually expect us to go home with them because we're "easy."

The girl develops a relationship with herself throughout her carrier. She either becomes more sexual or less sexual depending on the girl. Though there is almost always some self loathing at one point, there is always a confidence boost because of the job. The girl become more empowered. Girls that do it to put themselves through college and keep their goals in order and stay grounded tend to be more successful than other women. This is because we know how to read a crowd, a group, and a person. We know how to make a sale to the crowd, group, and person. We know what works for us and what doesn't. We can handle rejection, and we don't take it personally. We are determined. There isn't a lot that can tear us down either.

The personal history of strippers tends to be fairly similar. Girls tend to have similar histories of little familial support. There is usually some form of abuse. Many girls have been sexually abused to some extent by someone. Usually the girls start with little to no self-confidence. A lot of girls have no sexual identity when they start. Other girls are forced into it by circumstance. No money, they have children as teenagers, they need money immediately. They have a drug addiction. And other reasons. There's usually some kind of troubled past.

I find it interesting being a part of this community because I can see the validity of all of these in one way or another. I can also explore the complexities and how all of these relationships intertwine to make a complicated situation, more so.

What I find even more puzzling is the lack of research done on the relationship between strippers. I find this to be one of the more complicated relationships. For me, I feel the other relationships are fairly common sense. While dancing I have encountered two ideologies when it comes to friends. First group, and also the more commonly thought ideology, don't make friends at work. Second group, friends help you make money. There is a lot of people and strippers that are loners at work. They have their "sort of friends," but no one they are close to . They do this because it can be hard to compete against your friends for money. These girls look at everyone else as their competition. Sometimes they do really well. Friends can be distracting at work. Like anything else, if they're having a bad day you want to be a good friend and help. This can mean losing out on dances which means losing out on money. Second, friends help you make money. Allies can point you in the direction of money.

I don't believe in the first ideology. In the beginning I was alone at the club because I was the new girl and going through my hazing. I did not make nearly as much money as I do now. Being completely alone at work can have an adverse affect. You don't have anyone to look out for you and make sure you're safe.

I am a sincere believer in the second ideology. Friends make work fun on slow days. Sometimes you can tag team and do one dance with two girls. More importantly, not every guy is going to like every girl. I have friends that are both similar and different from me at work. When I know a guy won't go for me, but I think he would like one of my friends. I point my friend in his direction. If I dance with a guy that isn't picky and has money I will send all my friends his way. If I can't make money off of a guy, I would rather have my friends make money off of him than a bitch I don't like. I also know that my friends will do the same thing for me. If they see someone that is looking for a girl like me they point me his way. I make more working in a team. I also feel safer knowing that there are a few girls that actually care about me as a person, and want to make sure that nothing bad happens.

The relationship is complicated between strippers. I could write a whole book on it. I'm really not joking about that. Strippers cause so much drama within the group. I will leave on this note. The bouncers stop more stripper fights than any others...

Judgie

Stripping I get used to being judged and feeling prejudices. It's pretty normal in my life. It's rare when I find people that are genuinely interested in what I do. And even more rare to find people that are a) proud of me b) think it's awesome.

I have always had the opinion that I won't hide my job. I know people that do hide it, and I see how badly it back-fires and ruins their life. From the very beginning I have been open and have told people what I do. All of my bosses at my other jobs know that I strip. They are very supportive and we talk openly about it. I don't like my job, but I am not ashamed of it and I will not hide it, come what may.  I have lost friend because of my job. And I have my struggles socially (post about that one fraternity). 

Today the world's view is starting to change. I can see that in my generation. Most people my age are pretty lassez-faire about the whole situation. There are some that are against it and think I'm "evil."  A lot of the older generations are still very against it and the taboo stripping represents. I've been lucky with my grandparents understanding and their only concern is my safety.

There is a harsh reality to my job. A lot of the time when people find out I strip, I can read every thought on their faces. "Oh, she's a prostitute." "She's dumb." "She has no morals." "She does drugs." "She's an alcoholic." "She loves sex." "She's a cheater." People judge without getting to know me. They don't want to know why, how, why. They write me off without any information. I would be lying if I said I don't judge because I do... A lot. I tend judge people all the time. It's funny though. When it comes to occupation and that kind of thing I don't judge very often. Because of my job I do know drug dealers and prostitutes. I don't judge them. I may not like them, but I don't judge because I don't know what happened or their background. I hate the way I feel when someone is judging me because of my job and that person's inability to empathize or understand difficult situations. So, I don't want to do that to someone else.

I am lucky enough to go to a very liberal, progressive college. I am lucky to have the boyfriend that I do, who stays with me through the truly terrible times. This year I met my roommate, Vera, who has become one of my closest friends. I told her what I do the very first day I met her, so that she was aware of the situation. I knew we would become very good friends because of her response "Oh, that's interesting. How does that work?" And it wasn't in the "Ohhhhh (judgment, judgment, judgement) that's hmmm... interesting (slut, slut, slut)." She didn't judge and has been totally accepting and supportive through everything.

Recently I have been growing close to several girls within a sorority that is known for being feminists and accepting. They all find it first, shocking because it's not a me kind of job and second, interesting. They keep telling me they're proud of me. I've never had anyone tell me that because of my job. Since becoming friends with them I've heard "It's amazing you can do that, I would never have the courage to do that." I never thought I would hear that from anyone. For them this is normal, this is how they feel. For me it is so unique and unusual. I have finally found a group of people that I can be me, and just me. I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not. I can be honest. I have a hard time fitting in with a group of people because my personality is so eclectic. These girls have showed me that it's okay to work the job I work. That even if my job sucks, it's still an accomplishment that I can do it. I am so grateful to have found friends that support, accept, and respect what I do. I don't know if they'll ever know to what extent all of this means to me. 

Mexicans!!!

I want to put a disclaimer on this. I am NOT racist. I know at the end of this I am going to seem like a huge hypocrite. Keep in mind that I do strip. Safety is a huge factor for me. At this point I don't care who I discriminate against as long as I stay safe. I have several Mexican friends, who I have told these stories to, and they agree with me. Anyways, here is my highly offensive post against Mexicans... Don't hate me.


I started stripping very idealistically. I'd heard stories about people being discriminatory against certain races. I said to myself "I won't do that. I'm accepting. I'm not racist." I've already told my story about the Mexican trying to force me to blow him on my third day. That should have been a clue to me, but it wasn't. There's also the memorable encounter of the three Mexicans trying to steal things off of my person... Shoe... Ring.


Other memorable moments:


There was a private dance with a guy who was very rough with me. I stopped the dance short because he would not ease up and I couldn't take it. And I'm a tough cookie. I can deal with a lot of pain. I went straight up to the dressing room after. I don't bruise easily, it takes a lot of force. I already had five distinctive bruises on each boob. Where each finger grabbed me, they left their mark. The physical symbol of how painful my job is. When I got home Jamie saw as I was in the shower. He cried for me. There's a point where there are no more tears to cry.


One guy kept trying to rip, I do mean rip, my underwear off.


One didn't understand that "DON'T touch my pussy." Means don't touch my pussy. I did learn how to say it in Spanish, the Mexican slang version though. 


I never thought I would say "No you may not smell my vagina." (This is not just particular to Mexicans, it's particular to most guys. I just have to say it more often to Mexicans.


One guy was not satisfied with me being in underwear for our private dance. He asked for a refund.


One guy refused to pay and the cops got called. I never did get that money.


There was one that scratched me so hard my back bled. I had to have my friend wash my back for me, it hurt so bad. He was smart enough to do it at the end, so he got his money's worth.


I was sitting with my back to someone in private dance. All of a sudden he bit me so hard on the neck I had a bruise and teeth marks for days. I'm still surprised he didn't take a chunk out of my neck.


One guy grabbed my nipples really hard and twisted them. I told him "Stop," so he did it again. And I did it to him. His response was "Why'd you do that." I told him because he did it to me. I made him tip me forty bucks because I'd had a bad night, and that was the last straw.


I do dance with some Mexicans. They're the ones that I know. They also know not to mess with me. There are some very respectful men. I hate to lump all Mexicans into one group. But I have found that at work it is safer for me to ignore them as a group completely than take a chance on the few good ones. I want to also say, that I'm not making the statement "Mexican" and meaning anyone from South America that speaks Spanish or men that were born in the US and whose parents/grandparents were from Mexico. I am talking about actual Mexicans. The ones who have only been here for a few years, and are planning on going back to Mexico. I do get to know them a little bit before going back to private dance. 


I'm not racist, outside of the club. When I'm in the real world race/color does not matter to me at all. But inside the club it does. I would rather offend someone than go home with a bruise because of someone else. It's not nice to me or my boyfriend. I don't want visible symbols of someone's brutality going home with me.

Angry Moments at Work!!!

So after the awkward moments at work. I thought I would do an angry moments at work post. I feel much more strongly about these, and there's more of them.

It's my third day working, a Friday. At this point, I have absolutely no clue what I am doing. I am like a blind person trying to find my way through a mine field. (That might be a bit extreme, but that's what it felt like.) I was approached by a Hispanic man, and I quickly found out that he was from Mexico and spoke almost no English.  He was young, and very excited to be at the strip club, that I could tell. We had a stunted conversation that was a nice combination of his poor English and my poor Spanish. We did one song. I was wearing a gold string bikini. The sides were just tied in bows, so that it would be easy to take off on stage. At the end of the song he said he was done. So I got up and had my back to him. I felt a tug on my bikini and he tried to pull it off. As I turned around he had his dick out. He handed me three dollars. Took me by the hair and tried to force my head down to blow him. He said "It's my Birthday, make it special. I'm 23." I slapped him and had him thrown out of the club. The funny thing is that what was going through my head at the time was "THREE dollars! Three. First of all, I would never do that. Ever. Second, I am worth SO much more than three dollars. Fuck him!" That was my first weekend night. It wasn't my last. But it was the beginning of a trend of assholes that crawl out of their holes on the weekend and congregate together at the strip club.


It was my second month working, and a Saturday night (of course) around 1:30 in the morning, so pretty early. I had started, key word started, learning how to be on the offensive at work. I let my guard down on stage because I figured there were hundreds of people around, so nothing would go wrong. And the bouncers would protect me... (common misconception about bouncers). Well, I was on stage and it was busy. There was a guy with a lot of ones in front of him, so I went over and talked to him for a brief moment. I was completely naked because it was towards the end of my set. I squatted down because it's easier on my knees than kneeling. I wasn't very close to the edge of the stage. I felt like it was a safe distance. The guy's friend jumped up really fast and fingered me in front of everyone. I hit him so hard. I was so pissed. I wanted to scream at him. I called the bouncer over, and his response was "I didn't see anything." I hate this bouncer, luckily he has been fired since then. And he can go to hell for all I care. Anyways, I got FINGERED on stage in front of everyone. I was furious. I just wanted to rail on the guy. It is the one and only time I have cried at work. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried til I threw up. No one saw, no one knew. I couldn't show any weakness at work at this point. I had no allies, no one to protect me. I was new, and not worth a thing to anyone. I ended up leaving early that night because I was so upset. To make matters worse that night I got home to my apartment filled with people I did not know every where. I had such a bad night, and then Jamie and I fought because he didn't even listen. I slept in the car.

I always wear a gold ring on my right, index finger. It's a simple band, nothing flashy. I was working on a Wednesday night, and it was about 2:30 in the morning. I was done for the night, and so I was walking across the floor towards the stairs to the dressing room. All of a sudden a guy grabbed me around the waist and sat me on his lap. I looked at him, and it was a Mexican. He and his two friends were decked out in cowboy hats and alligator skin boots. The one had me pinned in his lap. One grabbed my foot and was trying to take off my shoe. The other had my hand with my ring on it. The one, who's lap I was sitting on, was trying to talk me into going for a private dance. (I had made a lot of money, and was not interested.) I kept saying "no" and he kept pleading in a thick accent.  The one that was holding my hand was trying to pull my ring off my finger. My FINGER! But I had it bent in he wasn't able to remove it. I grabbed my hand away, and then I realized the other one had my shoe off and was trying to hide it from me. I hit the guy, who's lap I was on hard enough he let go. I grabbed my shoe. They started yelling "whore" "slut" "bitch" "cunt" "I'll fuck you when you least expect it." I went home.

I had been dancing for six months, and hadn't worked many Saturday nights in the last three months. I had gotten really good at protecting myself, so bad things were happening less often because I knew how to avoid it. Anyways, it was the first Saturday I'd worked in a month and a half. I was chatting with an older guy, when he started talking about the last time I danced with him, and how I was such a good kisser. (He was sober.) I responded with "I'm sorry, but you have me confused with someone else. I don't do that." He was very adamant, that we made out in private dance. "I swear to God it was you!" "You must have been to high, and don't remember." At this point I said "Go fuck yourself." And walked away.


The last Saturday I worked was a disaster. First, it was a bad day. There weren't very many people and no one made very much money. Second, the stages are made out of wood and cheap wood. The panels were starting to separate. The main stage had a few panels that had 1/4 to 1/2 inch separations with sharp edges. Third, the girls are bitches and always looking to start problems and cause drama. It was my first stage set of the night. I had worked quite a bit that week, and my knees were sore and pretty raw. I have a lot of calluses on my knees form dancing so much. I didn't notice it until I got off the third stage, which was covered in blood. One of my knees had been torn open by the separated panels on the first stage. There was blood all over my leg. You'll think I'm exaggerating when I streaming, but I'm not. The girl after me in rotation, Jen, is a bitch anyways, and she doesn't like me at all. She started screaming at me to find a bouncer to clean the stage so she wouldn't catch anything from my disgustingly diseased blood. I would just like to say, that I am clean. And one of the most respectable girls at work. Anyways, I was now feeling the large gash, and it hurt. But I searched all over the place looking for a bouncer. I finally went up to the dressing room and told the DJ to let one of the bouncers know. I found all of the bouncers hanging out in the dressing room. I told them, and they said "we'll be right on it." Well they didn't. And my friend Adrian made me sit down and helped me take care of my knee. It looked pretty bad, to be honest. Jen stormed upstairs and started screaming at me that I came upstairs and was chatting people up instead of cleaning up disgusting, germ-infested blood off the stage. Adrian, the toughest and most feared girl at the club. Started yelling back. "She was fucking looking everywhere. Tim [the DJ] and I made her sit down and take care of it. You have no right to yell at her. She's never fucking done anything to you bitch. She deserves respect. Give it to her, or you'll regret it." Anyways, bad night. I hate weekends.


I have a heart condition that likes to screw with my working. The past two and a half weeks have been pretty bad, and so I've had to cancel on my regular twice. I had started feeling better, and planned out my week. My symptoms came back with a vengeance combined with my painful period. So I wasn't going to go into work. But my regular texted me half an hour before I had to be there (and I live twenty minutes away) saying "Hey, I'm in town today see you soon." I responded saying "Oh? I thought we were scheduled for tomorrow." "Yeah, but that doesn't work for me. Today does." "Oh... Okay" "Well if you're busy, don't change your plans for me." "No, it's fine I'll be there." UGGGGGHHHHH. What I wanted to say is "I don't go because I enjoy your company. I got because you pay me $300 every week. I just want your money. If you would give me the money without me being there, duh! I wouldn't change my plans." This is me being spoiled.

My angry moments as a stripper, have changed over the last year.

Awkward Moments at Work

Working at the club as long as I have, you collect some fun stories, some sad stories, and more than anything those super awkward moments. These moments really make the best stories. At the time you want to forget them, but once the awkward has passed it's something hilarious.

Two weeks into working, I had a very memorable moment. Growing up there was a group of college students that lived next door. They became surrogate older brothers. They'd gotten jobs and moved away when I was seventeen, and I hadn't seen them in three years. I was at work on a Saturday night. I was holding my friends drink when I finally located her. She was sitting on one guy's lap and I gave her her drink and sat on the other guy's lap. I hadn't looked at the guy's face, so I turned around and said "Hi my name's... Oh shit." Guess who? My neighbor!!! His response was "hey, you grew up." Followed by "I never, in a million years would have thought I would see you here..." After the awkward few moments passed, we had a nice time catching up. He ended up spending three hundred dollars on my friend. We both decided it would be super awkward to do that together. He did later comment on how good of a dancer I am. I think he specifically said "Looks like all that ballet paid off. And you really are flexible. Sorry that's awkward since you were naked, but I couldn't NOT look."


My boyfriend, Jamie, was in a fraternity. (I use the past tense because he is now an alum having graduated a year ago.) I am really good friends with all the guys in his frat, and I know quite a few alumni. About two months into working, I was there on a Friday night. It was about forty-five minutes to close. So right around 4:30 in the morning. I was exhausted and it was my last stage set. I was on stage, in just a thong. There was a bride at the stage with a crap ton of ones in front of her. I walked on over and said "Hi, so when's the wedding!" She looked familiar, but I figured she'd been in before. She responded "Two weeks. Hey, do you got X college?" I turn and look and see Jamie's frat brother, and a good friend of ours. The bride was an alum of the sister group, which is how I knew her. My friend first said "I knew it! Does Jamie know? How long have you been working here?" After I got off stage, he and I chatted for awhile. It's nice cause the group isn't judgmental and he thought it was pretty cool I had the "balls" to do this. I thought the comment "I feel like I know you better now" was pretty comical. He also told me he needed to congratulate Jamie on how flexible I am. Now whenever he's drunk and I see him he always says "I've seen you naked. And you have awesome boobs, I just want to motorboat them." Then he gets punched.


I worked a lot of Saturday nights over the summer. I thought I was pretty safe  not running into people from school because it's a teeny tiny town and everyone vacates for the summer. There are a few people that stay for the summer for whatever reasons. I was at work last July and a guy came up to me and asked if he could get a private dance. I was like "sure" that's easy money. I don't have to convince. He was polite and didn't touch me much. He paid and said if I talked to him for a little while he'd give me another $25. I thought it was great. Easy! We started talking. I asked the basic questions. "So where do you live?" He responded with the same teeny tiny town I live in. I asked him what he did there. He told me he was working over the summer but he goes to X college (my college). At this point I respond with "Oh that's so interesting." He continues with it's a small town and there aren't really any college students that stay over the summer, so he's pretty bored. There's these two guys he knows that live above a bar downtown, and that's about the only people he knows in town for the summer. "Oh by the way you look really familiar." I respond with "Oh that's interesting." He continues talking and starts putting together all the pieces "You look really similar to the girlfriend of the guy who lives above the bar. Like, really similar." I'm caught at this point... He knows. "Yeah, that's me. Small world huh?" It's so AWKWARD. We have this unspoken 'I remember you' moment every time we see eachother. I see him at parties, and it ruins my night! The last time was at a bonfire thrown by one of the sororities, which was a lot of fun, until I saw him. He's a constant reminder that 'oh yeah, you have this crap job. And there's NO escape!!!'


I have a good friend from back home that has come to visit me. She wanted to go to the strip club to see what it was like. I took her on a Friday night, so she could see what it was like in full swing. It happened to be amateur night. She was curious to see what it was like to be on stage, so she did amateur night. She danced to Rihanna's "S&M" and now it's our song. It's a great inside joke. She came back a couple months later, and came to work with me on a Saturday night. I felt bad because there was no one to hang out with her. But luckily she is the bubbly, quirky person she is and soon made friends with a really nice group of people. They snuck her a few drinks and she got a bit tipsy. She had a lot more fun and felt more comfortable with a little bit of liquid courage. Even though I was working I kept an eye on her because I didn't want anything to happen to her. She would always come to every one of my stages. She helped me make money. We call it "bonding." I was the very last girl on stage for the night, and there were still quite a few people left. There were a bunch of drunk girls that wanted on stage. (I call this girls romanticizing the job and wanting to pretend at being a stripper for a couple minutes. Also it makes me money.) I helped three girls on stage, as well as my friend. They had fun playing on the stage, and I sat down. The guys were just throwing money onto the stage and one guy handed me a wad of sixty ones. I wasn't complaining. I didn't have to do anything and I still made money!


I'm sure I have a lot more awkward moments. But I can't think of them now. I'll have a part two later. 

Starting With A Book

I was in a class last October that was a creative nonfiction. I did a lot of writing about work. I keep my job a secret from the faculty at Cornell, but other than that I'm open. The professor teaching the class was visiting, and she was really interesting and accepting. I felt that I could trust her and she wouldn't judge me based on my job, and she didn't. She actually encouraged me to write a book eventually because I was a good writer and I had valid things to say about my job. Anyways, I was pretty proud of this paper. I put a lot of work into it organizationally and story wise. It's really long, but I thought it would be good to share.

Starting With A Book

Sitting reading a book on the counter of the dressing room. It's a boring night. There are two guys down there. I've already talked to one for an hour. I have to go up on stage every forty-five

minutes. John won't let us stop because “there are still people here.” Jana is on stage now. She stole my song. I would be irritated, but she's a friend. I may end up making money. I look at the clock. Midnight it's still early.

~

My good friend from back home and is at work with me today. It is a lot of fun having her

here. Work is much less awful with her here. It's funny. She is going around the club telling guys they need to buy dances from me because I am “the hottest piece of ass here.” She's a little drunk tonight. She now has the nickname of my pimp tonight because I forgot my garter and she is holding my money.

~

The dead season is about to begin. I can tell. No one is spending money. I'm sitting on the

counter where the pop machine used to sit. I still have the confident air. No one is really looking

though, so my guard is down. I am scanning the crowd. Maybe I missed someone. A rather large guy glances at me. He catches my eye. I hop down and walk over and sit on his lap. My arms go around his neck and I say “Hi!” in my sweet girl-next-door kind of way. We chat. I notice his shirt. It's soft and I know the pattern. “Is this Burberry?” It's my favorite designer, the only one I consider worth spending money on actually. It also means he has money. Two minutes later he asks for a dance. Eight songs later we come out of the private dance area. Hundred and sixty dollars later, I'm glad I talked to him. He now only comes in to see me. My first regular.

~

Working at a strip club you learn fast. You learn to see who has more money. Out of the guys that do have the money who will pay me. Which guy will be nice. Which guy will treat me like a whore. Which guy wants to be touched. Which guy wants to talk. Which guy has a sexual fantasy that he wants played out. Which guy isn’t here for sexual reasons. I can’t explain why or how I learned this, but I did. If you want to survive and make money in the world of stripping you have to know these things. You end up safer and wealthier this way. Trial and error does help. I can read men and people in general really well. Although mistakes are occasionally made. It isn’t an exact science.

~

My nine month anniversary is here. I try never to work on this occasion. When I do it makes me and my boyfriend feel like money is most important. It isn’t. Except sometimes I feel like it is. My tuition is due tomorrow and if I don’t make the seventy more I need then I default on the payment. That’s bad. I desperately need the money. If work wasn’t so hard on my body I wouldn’t be in this predicament. I haven’t been able to work at all this month. I seriously pulled my hip flexor.

~

I pulled my hip flexor today. It was the day shift, and there was a slow period of three hours. I

was practicing pole tricks. I never do pole work in front of a crowd, but since I do this, I might as well be able to. I was doing pretty well, but then I hurt myself somehow.

~

Tracie Priceless is offering me drugs. I say no. I don't drink. I don't do drugs. I don't smoke. I

am an anomaly in the stripping world. “They aren't illegal. It's only Adderall.” “No thank you.” “It's not addictive” “No thank you.” “Come on! How do you expect me to pay for my kids?” “I don't do drugs. And if I really wanted Adderall I could ask my roommate who is ADD. Also, it is addictive, not right away, but eventually.” 

~

She's twenty. Like most girls here, she has two kids. Jana has a five year old and a two year old. We’re the same age. I can’t imagine having a five year old at this point in my life. Stripping is her job, other than taking care of her kids. Dancing is her way of taking care of bills and giving her kids everything they need and want. Nights are spent dancing. Days are spent with her kids. Jana comes to work after she puts them to bed. She's a great Mom and a good friend. If I’d met her outside of the club, I would be shocked by her job. She isn’t the type.

~

Seven in the morning on a Sunday, and I haven’t gone to bed yet. We just got home from work. A desperate trip to McDonald’s was made due to our hunger. It was a great night. I made six hundred. Rose made eight. This calls for a few days off. We can’t sleep, so we’re in the living room watching A-Team drinking wine. The wine is doing its job. Making us tired. I never drink. Especially at work. It's safer that way.

~

It's a Wednesday. Packing up my things. I am all done. I count out my money. I count out fifteen for the DJ and fifteen for the bouncers. I just realize. Tonight alone I have made the club a hundred dollars. It sucks. I could have kept that. Thirty to get in. Seventy dollars from private dances. Then the thirty I give to the DJ and the bouncers. So a hundred and thirty more I could have kept. Part of the reason I hate this job. I don't get to keep all the money I make.

~

I was doing a private dance with Daisy for a guy. I like doing private dances with another girl. It means less work. And no touching. I stepped off of the seat and twisted my ankle very badly. Funny thing is... I wasn't even wearing heels at that time.

~

I got my period today. Imagine having the flu plus paralyzing back, stomach, and thigh pain. In a nutshell that is my period for nine days. On top of all of that money is still a necessity to life. So, I still go to work. Most women make more money on these days because it coincides with their ovulation. Men are more attracted to ovulating women and spend more money on them. In order to keep this part of our lives a secret, we have to stick a tampon way up in there and cut the string very short so it isn't visible. Normally this isn't so bad, until today. I cut myself, and it hurts so incredibly badly.

~

It's four thirty in the morning. I have half an hour left. I am up on stage shaking it the way always do. I go over to a guy who has a HUGE stack of ones in front of him. I dance over and talk to him. When I actually do make eye contact I realize this is an alumni and close friend of my boyfriend. Luckily he is a close enough friend it's not completely awkward. After all of my stage sets are done I go and talk to him. He hands me fifty dollars and says it's because I work hard and he understands. I appreciate it and he responds “I have to say, I feel like I know you better now.”

~

I was there the first day Daisy worked. I didn't ignore her like the other girls did. I was still pretty new myself. Two months in and I was finally being acknowledged by the girls. We hit it off right away. Now she stays at my place on the weekends because she lives two hours away and it's

inconvenient for her to drive home. She's moving to Florida in three weeks and I am going to miss her.

~

I'm in the dressing room bathroom, crying. I just got off stage and it's a Saturday night. I had a

guy who tried to finger me while I was on stage. I thought it was obvious that that is illegal and wrong. I'm tired of being treated like a whore. Doesn't anyone know that this is a job? I'm a stripper, not a whore. I don't care that he got kicked out. It still hurts. It is the horrendous reality of my job: No one cares that it is a job. I’m a sexual object and nothing more. I can be used and no one cares how I feel.

~

My parents have always said that I am clumsy as clumsy gets. Except when I'm dancing. When

I dance, I never miss a step or a beat. I'm very graceful is what they have always said. I would give that credit to the thousands of dollars spent on my ballet training. I had been on the fast track to being a prima ballerina. Until I got too tall.

~

“A good dancer is an educated one, so don't abandon school.” Deborah Bull

I sit down next to a guy. Usually I keep the conversation on him. “What’s your name? Where do you work? Do you like it? How did you get into that? What do you do for fun?” The list goes on and on. I have a warehouse full of questions to keep the conversation going and on him. It makes men feel important if they are talking about themselves. This guy isn’t falling for it. He keeps turning the conversation to me. Finally he asks the most dreaded question to ask a stripper: “How did you get into this?” Most girls lie. I don’t lie, ever. This question is a hard one for two reasons. First, it is a highly personal question because everyone has their own reasons. Second, it ends the fantasy. For every girl that strips the biggest reason: Money.

I answered honestly, but with a question. “Do you know how much Cornell costs?” He laughs at me. I raise an eyebrow. He responds with: “Don’t lie to me. We both know that you don’t go to Cornell. If you do go to school it’s Kirkwood. And “college” is the most stereotypical lame ass answer to give as a stripper.” I am angry. He has slapped my intelligence. As a pretty girl, I am used to this, but for the first time someone is telling me I absolutely am not smart enough to even attend a four year college, let alone Cornell. I sit and argue with him. I explain calmly that I am a triple major in Literature, French, and Russian. That school costs $42,000 and even though I have scholarships I don’t want any debt from school, so I took this job to make that happen. He laughs at me again. “French and Russian. Two “sexy” languages. Nice pick. I’m sure you know enough to get away with it. Literature. Next you’re going to tell me you work in a library.” It’s funny because I do work in a library. I walk away making sure to speak to him in French, Russian, Spanish, and German. “Oh just to let you know. I have dabbled in Spanish and German. I don’t say I  have studied those because I have high expectations for proficiency in a language. My French is as good as your English. Although that’s not saying much. Second thought. My French is better.”

~

 A red-head walks into the dressing room. She looks scared. She doesn't know anyone. It's her

first night. She does her make-up and gets dressed. She has the hopeful look of someone romanticizing the job. She isn't yet crushed by the harsh reality of it yet. She smiles and says hi to the girls who pass her; hoping someone will talk to her. The manager talks to her and asks what song she wants to be played for her try-out. She tells him. Ten minutes pass and she is on the balcony watching the other girls on stage. She's trying to figure out what to do. Another ten minutes go by and her name, Daisy, is announced to go onstage.

~

I’ve been working a month now and the most important thing I’ve learned so far is: This job is about rejection. I am rejected more often than I am said yes to. This is because I am not every guy’s type. No girl is every guy’s type. I have to let the no’s roll off my back. There are nights when no one likes me. There are other nights when everyone likes me. It happens. It has nothing to do with how thin I am. How tall I am. How pretty I am. It has to do with what a guy likes. Sometimes it’s me. Most the time it’s not.

~

My third week of working. A friend of mine is sitting on a guy’s lap and there is another guy sitting at the table. I go over and sit on his lap. I turn and look at him. It turns out to be a guy I grew up next to for years. He's like an older brother to me. Safe to say this is an extremely weird occurrence. Although it is a slow night, so we have lots of time to catch up.

~

A friend of mine is interested in what being in a club is like. So she and I and her boyfriend

went for the night. She enjoyed it. Much more than she thought. Her boyfriend bought her a dance and now she is thinking about dancing herself.

~

Adeara told me why she got into dancing. She started dancing to pay for school. Something

we have in common. Although six months in she quit school to dance. (I don’t see this becoming another commonality.) She has gained back her self-confidence and self-worth because of dancing. She was sexually abused by a boyfriend for a few months. I heard variations of the same story from other girls. After some research I have found that sexual abuse or rape is a common thread connecting strippers, porn stars, really a lot of women in the “sex” business.

~

My fourth day working. I still don't know the tricks of the trade, so I make mistakes. I haven’t yet learned how to read people yet. The first part was alright. The last part went poorly. He kept trying to touch me in the one place it's not allowed, my vagina. Nor would I let him. I kept telling him no and holding his hand. When it was done I stood up. As I turned around to face him he untied my bikini bottom, gave me three dollars, whipped his dick out, said “It's my Birthday, make it special,” and tried to shove my face into his lap.

~

My first lap dance is with a guy that looks exactly like someone I used to date. He’s still a good friend of mine. I'm not sure if this makes it better or more uncomfortable. Anyways, I take his hand and lead him to the private dance area. He sits in the red velvet seat and I sit on the stool. I think this is how it works until the next song starts playing. “This is the first dance I've ever given.” He looks at me for a moment. “Really?” I look down, “Yes it is. I guess the first is the most memorable.” We start. I have no idea what I'm doing. Oh well just go with it. Definitely more comforting than awkward. I’m more comfortable with him because there is some “familiarity” even if it isn’t real. I end up texting him after and telling him the story. He’s now in love with me because of my job. Now it’s a bit awkward.

~

I'm working and I'm remembering how I was three years ago. Desperate and alone. I was a part of a family who abused me. I was with a boyfriend who treated me like a whore. Worse actually, I had no choice in the matter. I lost my virginity, not by choice, but by force with the words “I love you” branded into my mind. It continued for two years. And that’s what I thought love was. I know better now. I hate this job. Although it has done something for me. I gained back a little confidence. I have always been good at faking confidence. For once I think I have a little.

~

A book in my hands. I’m sitting cross legged on the floor of the book stacks on second floor of Cole Library. I’m reading a psychological study about strippers and stripping. I don't know how I'm going to break the news to my boyfriend. It would be a fairly easy decision without him. My relationship with my parents isn't going well, although it never has. I won't be able to go home for the summer, I’m not sure I ever wanted to though. I won't be able to afford anything. I don't have any choice right now. Tears streaming down my face, I still have some time. Maybe it won't come to this.  

No Where is Safe

There's a several reasons I don't work Saturday nights. I don't make very much money on Saturdays because there are too many people, and I get overwhelmed. There's so much drama between the girls. I hate the men that are there. There's a possibility of seeing guys from school.

My college, like every other college, has fraternities and sororities. Our Greek is exclusive to my college and not national, so it's a bit quirkier than at other schools. The Greek groups are known by their names rather than their letters. The group I'll be talking about will go by the name of... Hawks.

The Hawks are mostly guys that play on the football team. They are big and mean. And extremely sexist, racist, and every other discriminatory thing you can think of, plus some. Their nickname is "The Rapists" on campus. No joke, their assholes.

I feel like I had good reasons to not work Saturday nights, but about a month and a half ago I was given an even better reason not to work weekends. I was planning on working a double at the club that day, a Saturday. I was at lunch with a friend. Dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. I walked by the Hawk table when they started saying "It's hard to believe that... is a stripper." "I'm looking forward to visiting her tonight." "I'm gonna take her back and do her for all she's worth." "She's gonna suck my dick till her mouth bleeds." "She'll only look hot on her back." Then they all started chanting "Stripper" over and over again. To say the least it wasn't the most pleasant lunch I've ever had. Being in the occupation that I am, we do get used to hearing things like that. Usually it's a bunch of guys talking crap and it's nothing to worry about. With the Hawks, I don't want to take any chances. I ended up not going to work that day, and I haven't been to work on a Saturday since.

I'm not a girl that is easily scared by men, but I also have heard enough scary stories from friends that I don't want to take my chances. I also have no desire to relive painful parts of my past.

I am a huge feminist. But, I also know that as a girl there are some physical limitations and I can't protect myself against everything. It's the scary reality of working as a stripper. Things can go wrong, and when they do they go very, very wrong. I'm always on my guard because I don't want to take any chances. There is too much to lose. It's not just at work, it's everywhere. Who knows who I'll see where or when.