Ice

Oh Valentine's day, where do I even begin.

The club was dead when I got there. We only had 16 girls, though.

My first dance of the night was for a guy who is probably in Afghanistan by now. He was a cutie.

When I was on stage some asian dude came and tipped me big and he was at a high top so I went over there after my set. He was there with a friend from out of state and they seemed to be cool with spending money. I did a few dances for the guy and he handed me a $100 and didn't ask for change. Nice. I chilled with them and danced on and off for about an hour when one of the waitresses tells me that a guy in the upstairs vip wants some dances. Now the upstairs vip overlooks the whole club, so you can see everyone below when you're up there. It was scarface asian and some of his buddies. I've danced for him before and he's cool so off I went.

When I got up there I danced a bit for scarface and then he bought a dance for his friend, we'll call blondie. I dance for blondie who I can tell is fuuuuucked up for a few songs. At this point I'd made about $150 off them. I go downstairs for a bit to use the restroom and do a few dances. While I'm walking around I run into blondie who tells me to come back upstairs. Ok.

That's when I did something kind of bad. Blondie asks me if I party, and being in one of my 'who gives a fuck, i'm at the strip club on valentine's day' moods I ask him what he has.

"Ice," he says.

Now I'm thinking ice is crack because I obviously don't know my drug slang very well.

"Is that crack?" I ask.

"No, it's ice, you know, meth."

Fuck. Meth is one of those drugs that you say you're never going to do. It's one of those trashy fuck your life up for good drugs.

So what do I do? I try it!!!

Another example of my choice decision making skills.

Here's the worst part; it was good. Really fucking good. Best I've ever felt in my whole entire life good. Which is bad.

After that I was on fire for the rest of the night. I ended up making a bit over $600, which isn't fantastic, but I'll take it.

I get home and I still feel pretty good and oh so awake. I call my best friend to tell her what I did and she wasn't too upset. Then I went and worked out because I had soooooo much energy.

I didn't sleep for a good 40 hours. The come down was rough. You're awake, but you no longer feel good. You know you should be tired and your body needs sleep but it's not happening. But the high was good. That's why I'm not going anywhere near it ever again-I can see why people get addicted to that shit, and that's not something I need.

So that was my V. day. Spent it at a stripclub drinking and snorting meth. Classy as usual.

Publishing error

So I had typed up an entire post and when I went to publish it there was an error. Fuck that shit.

Here's the tl;dr version

Girl I wrote about here is working at my club

I'm working valentine's day because I'm single as usual. I'd rather make $600 on V. day than get some shitty chocolates and flowers

My best friend has a boyfriend which means she doesn't call or hang out because she cares about boys more than anything else in the world.

I'm moving in three weeks.

17 shots

Our first date went fairly well.

Except for the part where he informed me that his ex wife used to work as a stripper at the club I work at.

Now at this point in time he had no idea I was a stripper, as it hadn't been mentioned. Unless he could just tell because I let off some sort of stripper vibe-which according to my friends, I do.

Honestly this really kind of ruined it for me. Even though I'm pretty sure it was just coincidence I didn't want to date a 'stripper chaser'.

The date lasted about 2 hours. Got a text on my way home about how he had fun and we should meet up again.

Met up 2 or 3 days later. He showed me his car-verrrrrry nice. The two guns he keeps in his car, nice but a little weird. One in the glove box and one right by his seat. Both loaded and ready to do damage. Hmmm.

A few days later he takes me out to lunch at a very posh restaurant. Delicious. No leftovers allowed in the car. Also he has to park the car where he can keep an eye on it...a bit paranoid for my tastes.

I find out he does coke fairly regularly.

ALL RICH MEN DO COKE

I guess this is just something I'm going to have to deal with if I want to date wealthy dudes.

He bought me pepper spray at the shooting range. My first gift from a rich old dude is pepper spray. WTF?

Honestly after a few more dates I realized that the relationship wasn't going anywhere. There was just no chemistry.

Instead of taking the grown-up route and telling him I just wasn't interested I decided to be immature about it and just start ignoring his calls and texts. I know, it's shitty. I'm a shitty person sometimes.

I went to a party this past weekend and drank a lot. 17 shots a lot. Blacked out and puked in some kid's bed. I'm too old to still be doing such things. I washed his sheets and left him a $50 as a 'I'm sorry for being a gross human being and puking in your bed' gift.

L texted me the other night (he's been contacting me a lot lately, but only through email).

He wanted to let me know he found some pictures of me on his phone from a while back. Pictures of the nude variety I'm assuming. Pictures he took as I tried to frantically cover myself up with pillows and any other objects within range.

None of them show my face, so I don't really care.

Then he has the audacity to ask me to resend him a picture of my boobs that I had emailed him last summer. Really?

I don't know what he's doing with these photos but if he's using them as jack off material then that's annoying. How can you turn me down when I proposition you for sex (few months ago) but be ok with jerking it to pictures of me??? I hate men.

50 year old continued

So that was that.

A few days had gone by and then the call came. An unrecognized number lit up my phone. Here it is, my chance to make a good impression. So I pick up and put my most charming personality on. The call lasted over an hour, so I must not have been too bad, but I cannot remember what we talked about.

I do remember getting off the phone and my roommate making the comment "He must really like young girls 'cause the way you were talking you sounded about 12." I chalked it up to him being a jealous asshole.

During the course of our conversation the 50 year old asked if I wanted to grab some coffee in a little while so that we could meet in person. Hmm...a coffee date is the lowest rung on the dating ladder, but whatever.

I showed up at Starbucks a bit early so I grabbed a seat inside where I could have a view of anyone entering the building.

About 5 minutes later a very expensive (we're talking $200,000) car pulls up. That has got to be him. Out he comes. A bit shorter than I prefer. Hair loss is noticeable. He's certainly older than I've ever dated before. All in all not too bad. We exchange hugs and then the games begin.

I'm not a very social or outgoing person, but when I meet someone for the first time in a date-y setting I can be a real pain. I don't know why, but I tend to try and make the other person feel as uncomfortable as possible. I like seeing them squirm. No questions are off limits and there's very little etiquette to be found. I guess it's my way of testing them-to see if they can put up with me for the long haul.

The 50 year old

So I've been reading a few other blogs lately and I realized that most female bloggers talk about dating far more than I do.

Now I really started this blog to talk about stripping, but let's face it-I'm not a very interesting stripper. I don't do crazy things at work. I haven't fucked any coworkers. I haven't started selling drugs. I partake in the ingestion of illegal substances every now and again but I don't have any gut-wrenching drug addiction sob stories. Don't fight with the other girls or participate in their drama. I'm a *gasp* boring stripper.

So...dating. I have dated since L and I broke up. There have been a few guys where a few weeks of dating occured. Obviously no serious relationships, but I'm really not mature enough for those it seems.

For this post I'm going to focus on the 50 year old.

The 50 year old was not someone I met through work surprisingly. It all started as I was walking through the cosmetic section of Bloomingdales one fine afternoon. Now I don't shop at Bloomingdales 'cause it's a little out of my price range, but I often park in front of it so walking through it is inevitable.

As I'm making my way towards the door a very pretty older lady stops me and asks if I'd like a makeover.

"Uhh, why not," I say, not having anything better to do.

As she's applying various things to my face we start talking about life. Jobs (I lie and tell her I'm a waitress), school, boys, etc.

When we get to boys I inform her that I'm single and she asks me what type of guy I'm into. I jokingly respond "Old and rich." She laughs a bit and asks if I'm serious about the old thing. I tell her that I do tend to be attracted to men at least 10 years my senior and having money doesn't hurt.

"I have someone I think you should meet," she says.

Makeup lady then proceeds to tell me about the 50 year old. "He's very wealthy, if you start dating he'll probably take you shopping and stuff a lot."

I'm sold.

This is it, I tell myself. This is what I've been waiting, no, hoping for.

She then inquires if I would mind her giving the 50 year old my number and in the name of shopping sprees I tell her to go ahead. I go home in an overly optimistic mood and start fantasizing about living the life of a sugar baby.

This is going to be a fairly long...story...so I'll continue this post tomorrow.