A guy just passed gas during a dance and felt so bad he tipped me $100. Yeah bitch guilt
Tonight was the sort of night that makes me feel so grateful and blessed to have this job. I’m so lucky, really. I had dinner and drinks with a friend before work and stopped to get coffee and still made it to work on time. It started off slow as hell. I sat down opposite two guys because i couldn’t decide which to choose and SM sat down a bit later and picked the one with money. It’s always such a gamble! My initial lack of initiative paid off, however. I did a circle and got rejected a bunch and walked smack into this group of guys. One was at my stage earlier, the rest not, and there was a woman, all usually bad signs but one of the ones who had not been at my stage was immediately taken with me. It was hard to keep his attention because they were all high as kites but he said he wanted dances and actually stood up and came with me.
cut for length
We passed Regan and walked by a girl I like but don’t know very well and he asked if we could bring her too. We’re all shiny novelties. It’s worrisome because you can never be positive until they’ve paid what will happen; he might balk at paying for both our time or he might decide he’d rather go with her or he might be decent, who knows.
I went for it because what the hell. I told him he wanted a half hour with both of us and he handed all his money to the bouncer. Lord knows how much it actually was but the bouncer said it was 500 so we were safe! & so began the most bizarre two hours. He reminded me of a toddler, a harmless fish-mouthed baby man. He was too high to really want to do anything but talk so we just made fun of each other for two hours. He couldn’t remember anything and kept telling us, “Look at that ass! That ass belongs on Instagram!” or “Have you seen your boobs? your boobs are perfect!”
repeated so often that I started to ask him. ”Wow! Look at that ass”
“Do you think it belongs on Instagram?”
“Have you seen your boobs?”
“I would never have noticed them if you hadn’t pointed them out.”
His mouth could be avoided but even though he wasn’t gropey every twenty minutes or so his hand would just latch on to hips or ribs or arms and dig his surprisingly long and pointy (the better to snort cocaine?) nails.
“Gentle touches!” I had to keep reminding him. The other girl laughed, she never worked in a daycare. I used full on daycare language with him. “We use gentle touches with our friends!”
The whole thing was a ridiculous mess but I got 20% tips for us out of him and he ended up getting two hours, like I said. I wish I could remember more of the conversation. I like stripping (and waitressing, and the service industry) because it requires you to be so fast and clever on your feet but wit is so ephemeral unless you’ve got a way to record it and I mostly forgot what we said.
He liked our tattoos and wanted us to give him one. The bouncer wouldn’t give me a pen but when the waitress came by I asked her for a sharpie and she brought one. He wanted “Diablo” on his chest in old english font and then we each signed our handiwork—I have a picture but I let my phone die because I’m tired of it.
“You’re sweaty!” he kept accusing Other Girl. She’d look at me, uncertain. She wasn’t really sweaty and is this even a good thing or a bad thing, who knows.
“My armpits are sweaty!” I rubbed my hand in my armpit and wiped it on him. “See? My bellybutton too.”
“How is your bellybutton sweaty?”
“Idk it just is. Feel yours!”
We took turns sitting on his head—not his face, his head, or shoulders piggyback style (we wear bottoms in dances)—while he sat in the chair. Harder angle for him to do his sudden claw thing from. He asked me to hit him, so I did, but that was too hard. I leaned over and pinched his nipples. “Like charging a battery!” he crowed.
This is all stuff that would be better illustrated I think.
Anyway I made the deposit which is good, just to be sure after paying my student loans yesterday.
I went into the kitchen after we were finally done and SM, who had been waiting her turn, (canny hustling lass!) snapped him up and came running back to offer to share him with me after finishing their hour. I asked Becky.
“Should I stay or should I go? :/”
“Weeeeell. If you go there will be trouble.”
rolled my eyes.
“But if you stay there will be double.”
“That’s it, I’m leaving.”
Not my smartest move but I said no and paid to leave early. The bouncer yelled at me about drawing on the guys chest, said we could all be sued if his wife saw it. I listened as patiently as possible but in the end my extreme disinterest must have shown through because he cut himself off and I took the money and ran. SM’s plan was kind but just would have involved waiting a whole hour and meantime going onstage and who knows what all. Paying that much attention to someone is sort of draining, even if it’s all laughable and pretty easy. I let a few other girls know to be on the look out at two when their hour ended and suggested my favourites to SM and then took off to go drive by new apartment.
It’s lower to the ground that I thought, which stresses me out. I don’t understand why fifties architecture was so anti a high foundation. The one time I’ve had a breakin as an adult was my apartment before this, vintage tile, hardwoods 20s bungalow with toxic mold, very easily breakinable. and still higher than this one.
On the other hand, private basement with my very own washerdryerrrrr still. and windows in three directions. and hardwoods and pink vintage tile.
but then that lesbian couple got broken into in NE ten years ago and were raped and murdered.
Yeah ok I have an imagination of disaster but it’s also real.
On the other hand there’s a big bright second floor apartment in a building w secured entry. Coin laundry in basement. secured entry! I’ve gotten to really like that.
I’ll apply for that one too what the hell.
Anyway the money I ripped up last night was from this guy whose ass I slapped on my way out. I left early because the whole thing seemed tiresome and I remembered I had mushroom risotto cakes and so much tv to catch up on and in my joy I just slapped the ass of a random man at the atm, nbd, it happens all the time. It’s like petty vengeance on our part although, like everything we do, it has invisible strings with the corollary that like, men can’t see power differentials! So if you slap a guys ass or pinch his nipples, they don’t understand that you’re each operating from different positions and situations, they just think that if you can do it they should be able to also.
Most egregious example of this:
“Why do youget to touch your boobs when I can’t?”
“Uhh, because they’re mine?”
but also in general. Everything.
So I kept walking, giddy and gleeful to be done for the night with an acceptable amount of cash (thanks gas man! it was a miserable half hour but it paid off) and I was waiting for a bouncer to walk me to my car when the guy I slapped came up to me.
“You just spanked me!”
“Wellllll, do you want to go somewhere private?”
I’m like in my normal clothes, I mean I posted a picture. I’m in sweatpants and a flannel and a scarf and my brooding olivia dunham winter peacoat, like i look bulky as fuck, even bitchier than bulky, and completely uninterested.
“Fine!” He walked away, turned back, grabbed a handful of scarf/wool/button/boob, and then walked away again.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I grabbed the useless-as-always bouncer. “He just grabbed my boob!” I mean it was mostly scarf but it’s seriously the principle of the thing, like absolutely not no. so no! ” Kick him out!”
“You should give her some money,” the bouncer advised.
he gave me two dollars.
I ripped it up.
“Why did you do that?” the bouncer was scandalized, the guy just watched with his mouth open. come on, it was only two dollars.
“It is meaningless!” I said, trying for grandeur and ending up with incoherence. I kept ripping and stalked out and made it rain little confetti bits of dollar over my head and felt expectedly unsatisfied about all of it.
I did pretty okay tonight, but it was nervewracking. The day manager gave me a lecture as she left that too many bartenders pour too long and she made me repeat after her, “1 2 3, quick like that!”
then every other motherfucker in the place (staff, not customers, as if I listen to them!) was like “your shots are too short” and made me practise until they were longer so lbr I could be in trouble either way. I could even be in trouble for both! Like, remember how I got called scheduled to waitress Monday when I thought I was dancing? I was still scheduled to dance! So they’re hitting me up for a flake fee even though I wasn’t there because I was at the other club. And yeah, technically I was going to flake, but it’s the principle of the thing!
Which is exactly what a customer bitched at me during a lap dance tonight*.
“I can’t believe dances are 40 and you only got 21 of that. Like I want to skip the middle man, I could give you less and you could still keep more, I could go anywhere else and not have a middle man.”
“Ok that’s simply not true. In Vegas you pay the VIP hosts also.”
“No you don’t. I don’t know where you worked, but where I went I negotiated what I wanted.”
tbh my work ethic was low in Vegas from taking care of my sick friend and I don’t really remember how it worked, but I’m 85% sure my customers paid the floor host before we could go into the VIP areas because I remember the annoying wait while the floor host shot the shit and I remember funny money and the whole fucking POINT of funny money is to create a middle man so the club can take a cut in yet another way. Ask me about funny money sometime when I’m less tired. Better yet I’ll post my funny money selfie. (hidden for length; customers, deserved tantrums, overly invested people with no lives or ethics, grumps)
But it’s also yet again the principle of the thing, like he’s insinuating he got dancers to do more for less or something and this annoyed me so bad that I told him we’re done and I couldn’t put up with him a moment longer even for 21 $ and gave him his money back. The song hadn’t started yet so I figured we were good but the annoying bouncer (the overly invested in minutiae one–oh wait that’s all of them–who hit me up for the flake fee) said “absolutely no returns” and the guy stood there making shocked fish faces and I suddenly wanted the money back, I just wanted some compensation for having to deal with them both so I abruptly turned around, grabbed the money out of his hand and said “We’re doing this.”
He apologized when we sat back down, after I sat down as hard as I could in his lap for revenge.
“It’s just the principle of the thing like why CAN’T I pay you, why do they get the money?”
“Ok. To be fair, I think about this a lot and I WISH that I could charge you 30 somehow and give you a dance elsewhere and it would be cheaper for you and I would still get more but there’s no space for that here, it’s just not a possibility, so instead of like, liberating me like you seem to think you’re doing, you’re just trying to haggle and I’m not going down and it’s disrespectful of my time. Got it?”
“Yeah, ok. Sorry.”
“Also you have to tell [the bouncer] that you’re sorry, it was all your fault, and we’re getting along great.”
the song ended and he was true to his word.
“I was a little bitch!” he announced to the bouncer. “I was being annoying and I deserved it and she was very patient with me.”
bases covered. so back to my flake fee. yeah I was going to flake anyway but it’s the principle of the thing! You can’t charge me for not being there when technically the reason I wasn’t there was that I was where the boss told me to be! fine him!
The bouncer insisted that it was my fault for double booking myself.
“I filled out the waitressing schedule in SEPTEMBER!” I railed at him. “Not only that I was in motherfucking NEW YORK last week!“
he laughed indulgently at me like an annoying annoyance.
At brunch w Mari we were (surprise! for once not talking about how the bouncers have so much in common w the guards on OitNB or that line) talking about how I crack my gum because GUM CRACKING IS ATTRACTIVE and it is part of an aesthetic I have admired since I was 9 and all the tough hot older girls w darker lipliner than lips and eyeliner and big fringed bangs did it and I practised until i could do it really loud too, leading to a chapter in the exciting graphic novel memoir of my life called “Gum Cracking: an homage”
I got distracted
Oh yeah Adrienne told me she despises gum cracking and I told Mari this with shock, shockand she was like
“Gum cracking is a way of life! It’s a form of self-expression! When guys are being terrible I even chew my gum at them in exasperation.”
there you have it ppl. Gum cracking: homage and valid form of self-expression.
Later he told me that what he loves about me is that i’m always smiling and to never stop smiling because that’s what reveals my inner beauty.
Because it’s totally normal and not at all creepy to have a constant expression of inane delight FOR NO REASON.
He was otherwise a total dream: respectful, mild-mannered, easy to talk to, but my god what a stupid thing to say. What a series of hilariously, PAINFULLY, stupid things to say.
I mean my lap dance philosophy/policy is that the baseline price listed is just the starting price. You get my attention for the amount of time listed and anything else is negotiable upwards and some things are not open to negotiation. I’ve always worked with other women who shared this understanding even if we didn’t have the same prices or boundaries, like some people will do boob gropage for under a grand which I understand and am fine with, you know, whatever.
It helps customers keep perspective too. These are women who would not otherwise be near them, with our own lives and interests and our time has a value, as does our energy and the things that we are willing to put up with, and it’s just so weird and offensive to me that at this club customers are actively encouraged in the understanding that it’s a free-for-all, that all things are allowed for the same price. It comes with the territory and I can and do still work around it and profit from it but I hate it. I hate how increasingly men and women think that $40 gives them an all access pass to my body. Are you stupid? or even $2, people (especially women) who sit at the stage and think that two dollars allows them to touch me or even biteme.
it comes with the territory, I know that. I just don’t think it needs to.