One of those nights that make you really weigh the benefits of having regulars: yes he was a sure thing and got 12 dances buuuut he’s one of them that falls in love and no lie I earned every penny of his 400 (& lbr I only got 320$ of it and actually then 32 goes to the dj sooo 288) with how emotionally exhausting it is being someone’s endlessly cheerful quirky manic pixie dreamgirl.
Plus he wants to hang out even when he’s not getting dances and jfc. I could be getting MORE dances from other people while I wait for him to get ready to spend more instead of sitting here having a gfe and wishing he would stop rubbing my thigh (imaginary conversation “no really I actually get razor rash super easy and this like ‘tender caressing’ you are doing? Is making me break out in tiny pimples I can feel pls stop” but THAT’S not hot so I smiled sweetly and thought of my next hundred (80, really) dollars.)
Can’t we just laugh and have fun in the club and just let it be? Some things are way better in theory, I mean did we learn nothing from Gatsby?