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.

Easy Money

I haven't written in awhile for a couple reasons. I've been tired. I haven't felt like writing. I haven't gone to work in a week. School started again. (I was on spring break.)

I went to work once this week. That would be yesterday. My regular was there and I really should work more often. I was trying to think of something to write about. There's always the "what I did today" entry. Usually that's repetitive and kind of boring. Plus it was a boring day. I was sitting talking to one of my regulars when I knew exactly what I wanted to write about. Easy money.

I don't know how often I hear "You should work more. It's easy money." Or "Wow you make a lot. I wish I could make easy money." Or my favorite "You have such a great job. It would be a dream come true for money to just be given to me so easily." Easy... That is not how I would describe my job. I would describe it as the hardest, most demanding job I have ever had. And I have worked quite a few.

It's always fun when I hear a (fat) business man complaining about how hard their job is... sitting behind a desk. And then they say they wish their job could be as easy and as much fun as mine. Usually I give the "You have no idea how fun this job is." Of course I'm being sarcastic, but with my smile and eye contact, they never kow. Every once in awhile, when they catch me on my mean days, I tell the truth and it goes a little something like this. "You know, it's so much fun. You have no idea how much I love having my boobs played with by fat disgusting strangers. It turns me on so much that I've gone upstairs and thrown up and cried because I'm just having so much fun. Being on stage, having hundreds of guys whistle at me all because I'm naked. Talking to men that are less intelligent than I am. Working my ass off for a dollar. Having my knees so sore, that when I get home my boyfriend has to carry me up the stairs because I can't walk. I love being called a mindless whore. And constantly being reminded that all I am worth to you is as a sexual object you can ogle. I love being so emotionally worn out that I can't finish my homework. It's really a blast when the highlight of my day is going home and taking a shower to get your gross smell off of my body. It's truly fantastic when I try to make love to my boyfriend and I am reminded of work. To top it all off I love that I have to sit down and talk and flirt with someone I can't stand for half an hour in order to make twenty dollars. And then once I have them in private dance they don't understand what the word "no" means. I love when people try to coerce me into kissing them, touching them, letting them touch me, having sex with them, dating them. I want nothing to do with you all, but I have to be here to go to school."

Okay, I'm a little angry at people thinking my job is easy. That I make easy money. I don't. Even if there are a few days that are easier than others. I do not make easy money. My job takes a toll on my knees, my entire body. It takes an emotional and psychological toll. My job is hard. Money is not easy to make. I do make more than anyone else my age and more than a lot of people I know. People need to keep in mind that the money has to also be worth it and a lot of days it's not. The money has to be worth the toll it takes physically. When I get injured I have to have made enough money to last for as long as it takes me to recover. The money has to be worth the emotional and psychological toll that the job has. The longer you're there the bigger the toll. Not to mention you change as a person, usually not for the better.

Is the money worth that?

The Start of Sober Stripper

Hello World.

I don't know if anyone will ever read this, but if anyone does please stay open minded. I've been meaning to start this for... several months now. Finally I have.

I'll start out with a few things about me. This probably won't be that interesting, but I'll get to that part eventually. I'm in my early twenties. I go to a teeny-tiny private college where I major in Literature, French, and Russian. I love studying. I love seeing my friends (although that happens very rarely). I cook and bake as much as I can. I love travelling and seeing the world. I'm very tall, for a girl that is. I don't like partying. I don't drink. I've never tried drugs, and I don't plan to. I am in a very committed relationship with the man I am going to marry. We have been together for a year and a half, and we have lived together for a year of that.

I work all the time. If I'm not in class I'm at work. And if I'm not their I'm at home sleeping or studying. I work at my school's library and as a receptionist in a medical office. So far, I'm sure, my life sounds really average. Like any other college student. The biggest difference is I work at a strip club. I am a stripper, and have been for ten months now. My friends, when they first found out, thought I was a waitress or a bartender there. I'm not the type of girl to strip. Actually I hate being naked. Before I started stripping I was only ever naked in the shower.

Here is the very brief history of why and how I got a job as a stripper. It's safe to say that I have a tense relationship with my parents. I had just finished my freshman year in college and had stayed at school a few days longer to see my boyfriend graduate. I couldn't find a job in my hometown, but I could find a job in a big city close to my college. I told my family that I would get a job and live at school over the summer, and I would be able to have the job for the rest of my college career. My parents did not like this and disowned me. They took away my cell phone, my car, my health insurance. They kept all of my things and they would not give me my passport, social security card, or birth certificate. I know it seems ridiculous, but that's actually what happened. Basically all I had left was the few clothes I had to last me the extra days on campus, the little money I had left over from the month before, a place to live, and my boyfriend. I took the weekend to cry and talk over my options with my boyfriend. He has been my main support system for the last year. The one person I can count on every day, all day, for anything and everything. On Monday I walked into the nicest, most reputable strip club in my area and asked for a job. I got the job because I had a pretty face and fourteen years of intensive classical ballet training. I had never wanted to capitalize on my looks, but I was in a jam and had to. My ballet training gave me the ability to have stage presence and entertain the way no one else could. That night I went home and cried with Jamie, my boyfriend.

Here I am ten months later. I'm not sure why I'm writing this. Possibly because I want people to know that not all strippers are drug addicts or alcoholics. I want people to know that there are some strippers that are down to earth, normal-everyday-people just trying to survive. I think I offer a new point-of-view because I am educated and I can look at the goings-on and relationships in a different light than a lot of girls. I have read a lot of research about strippers and the occupation, research on the psychological aspect, the emotional aspect, the personal aspect. It's complicated. My job should not be judged upon first walking into the club. Stay, come back, get to know the girls, and keep coming back. I can offer an opinion from a stripper that has a knowledge of the research but also experience in the field. I can also shed light on the life of a stripper and a offer a behind-the-scenes-look. I know many of my friends are curious about the occupation. They want to know what it is in real life instead of what is portrayed by television and pop-culture. On top of everything it is cathartic for me to write about work. With my friends I play my job off with humor. I do this as a coping mechanism, but my job is horrendous. It takes a psychological, emotional, and physical toll. I can be honest here. There will be a lot of humor, but there will also be a lot of frankness that may be difficult to read. I want this to be honest more than anything.

As the reader, if there are any, KEEP ME HONEST.