Some nights at the strip club are more difficult than others. I have not spoken the truth about work in a long time because I love my job and the freedoms it provides me. The dancers vary greatly. They all have different backgrounds and varying education and evolutionary and maturity levels. Which is how it has always been, but I have grown and evolved over the years.
Compassion becomes difficult to have after many years in the industry. You see the same story over and over just with a different face and body. The girls who do not value themselves devalue us girls who do know their value, merely in their interactions with the customers. We all have issues, because we are human too. However when others issues begin to affect my work night that is when I start to get angry.
So let me tell you a little about the fantasy world some say I live in, especially my family. Reality is relative to everyone. The fantasy of being a dancer in a strip club is my reality. Tonight, I experienced reverse Darwinism at its finest. My second stage set of the night another stripper laid down on the edge of my stage and then customers proceeded to put money in her bikini bottoms. This is a girl that not only do I not talk to, but someone I do not want to talk to let alone touch and pretend to enjoy it. Especially, because I know that when I even come close to her I am risking getting contact high from one of her maladaptive coping mechanisms. Collective consciousness is enough, I do not need to be high on somebody else’s addiction.
Lastly, if I have worked with you at another club that does not mean I want to talk to you. If I did not like you at the first club, I am not going to like you now. Save your fake breath for someone who will believe you. I am not a customer and will not buy your lies.