I realize I’ve bitched about a couple customers and maybe been a little negative lately. I really love dancing, and when I bitch about bad customers it’s because they’re so different from the customers I’m accustomed to. I hope no one’s gotten any other impression.
I love almost everything about dancing. There’s the practical stuff, the ability to work (almost) anytime and anywhere, but there’s a deeper spirituality of it too.
I don’t have to worry when I start to run out of money while out adventuring in the world. I just jump on stripclublist.com or the stripperweb reviews or call a couple traveling dancer friends. Within minutes I know where the local clubs are, what the earning potential is, what the contact level is, etc. Then I find a place to take a shower and straighten my hair. I pop in a motivational tape and do my make up. Nine times out of ten I can walk into a club and work the same night. The small town clubs that I work in are usually happy just to see a new face. I introduce myself and ask to work and they show me the dressing room. Sometimes I have to audition, which can mean anything from flashing my boobs to dancing on stage for three songs. Every once in a while a club tells me I’m too “thick” for them. Usually they’re very earnest and tell me I should go to the gym and come back in a couple months. I don’t bother to tell them that in a couple months I’ll be a couple states away.
I love that most clubs make about zero effort to tell me what to do. The you’re hired speach generally goes “no drugs, no prostitution.” Here in Alaska it’s “no drugs, no prostitution, no guns in the club.” Some clubs have scheduling guidelines, like you have to be there by 11 to work, or you have to work a weekday to work a weekend. A few clubs want you to be there when they open if you’re working. There are clubs who try to put you on a strict schedule, but I mostly just skip those clubs.
I love that dancing is so much exactly what you make of it. You can abuse your own sexuality. You can be a Goddess. It’s completely up to you ninety percent of the time (cause there are clubs that are just awful, but not that many of them).
I love how real it is. I love that we don’t sit around in suits and make meaningless conversation without eye contact. I get right up in people’s space, sometimes right up in their souls. I sit in their laps and wiggle around. I’m juicy and real.
Even when it’s bad, it’s real. I’ve learned things in strip clubs that I never could have learned sitting in a feminist theory class taking notes. I’ve had drunk pimps tell me that they despise women because of how much power we have and don’t know how to use. Other men have begged to call me mommy or kiss my feet. It’s not socially acceptable, but it’s real and human.
I love the highs, when I make crazy money and have crazy fun. The lows, the nights when I walk out with $23 after 12 hours, have made me a better person.
I love how deep and intimate I can be with complete strangers. I love the way that my realness brings people so fully into themselves. Some people haven’t been really inside themselves in years. Sexuality is like dirt: so scary and the basis of all life. I love taking people there. And I love that they don’t expect to call me in the morning.
I love that the club is set up and structured in a way that whatever I do is valued. I love that I feel absolutely great about being a stripper, when going to school for psychology made me feel icky about myself. I love it when I can use some energy psych or some hypnosis in the champagne room and it runs right together with the lapdances.
Sometimes when I tell people I’m a stripper they tell me that it’s okay because eventually I’ll join the real world, or they say they’re sure it’s a good way to make fast money and then I’ll get out of it. I tell them hell no: I’m a stripper for life.