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.

Old guys love coke

I made $900 on Wednesday, which was pretty nice.

The bulk of that came from a 1&1/2 hour vip. Sometimes you just get lucky and Wednesday night was one of those times.

The customer I was sitting with had just left so I decided to go and talk to a dancer friend of mine, as well as insert myself into the lap of one of the customers she was sitting with. This girl is great at getting guys into vip (I'm not), so I try and sit with her whenever I can. She doesn't mind, and she often gets me if she has a group of customers who want girls 'cause generally most guys like me. I'm not really an acquired taste, the only group that I consistently don't appeal to are black guys.

Anyways, I sit on an old guy's lap and it's game on. Shots are had, some dances are done and it's obvious the group is getting noticeably drunk. It's funny 'cause at first the guy I was with kept slipping me $20s and telling me that I didn't need to dance and I was a nice girl and all that shit that men often say under the delusion that you never hear it and they're being unique and kind. Truth is I don't mind being objectified at work and I'm going to see customers as potential money regardless of how they see me and what they tell me.

So we are discussing vip and the other two men at the table have agreed to go. I ask my guy about it and he says he'll do whatever his friends are doing-great, that was easy. Now I prefer to have a group vip in one of the larger rooms 'cause they're generally easier, plus I can get the other girls to hustle more time out of the customers that way. Unfortunately my dancer friend informs me that we're going to be doing separate rooms. Oh well.

Then, in a not-so-uncommon turn of events, my customer (who is 61, by the way) asks me if I can get any blow. Uhh...yeah, clearly we're in a strip club so there's no shortage of cocaine, but I don't like being the one of purchase it. I tell my friend that my guy wants some coke and she informs me that is what her customer and the other friend want too. We decide then to do a group room since it will be easier to get the drugs to everyone if we're all in the same room. Nice, huh?

So my friend and I go and purchase a few grams from one of the resident drug peddlers and we're good to go. The guys started out with an hour and a bottle of champagne. The room was easy, guys were fairly polite and didn't push the boundaries. Some coke was done (I only did one bump), and we had soon run out. This coincided perfectly with time running out, and my hustler-minded coworkers convinced the guys to get another half hour and we'd get them some more coke. Done and done.

Then I somehow got my customer to go out to the atm (the room and our payments had all been put on credit) and take out an extra $400 which was distributed amongst the three of us as a 'tip'. So that was $600 on credit per girl plus $100 and change per girl as a tip. Not too shabby.

The events of that night also reinforce the fact that most rich guys do coke. I had no idea it was so prevalent among the white collar crowd before working in a club.

I don't work 'til Sunday, so hopefully I can do some partying of my own this weekend.

On another note, the ex invited me to a hockey game the other night. I declined. Mostly because I wanted to work, but I would like to think I would have declined regardless of my schedule. I already know where things will go 'cause we've been there more than once before. I came up with the theory that we have some sort of 6 month rule regarding out interactions. When we met, we dated for approx. 6 months before things went sour. Then we went 6 months without contact. Once contact was initiated at that 6 month point we lived together for 6 months. Once that too went sour, we went our separate ways. Now, almost exactly 6 months down the road from our last split it seems as though contact is being re-initiated. Hmmm.

Two posts in one day (sort of). It's a new record!

I just spend a while reading another blog and I swear it seems as though it could have been written by a future me. More like hoping, really.

I hadn't thought of the ex-roommate (L) for a while. It had been a few weeks maybe months?) since last contact and I was feeling happy enough with my life that he hadn't really popped into my mind at all.

Until he emailed me, of course.

Isn't that the way it always is? You finally come to terms with the fact that you and so and so aren't going to work out; not as lovers, not as friends, not even as acquaintances and then BAM, they pop up.

He had sent me some stupid email with a bunch of questions under the guise of it being something interesting he was 'researching'. No 'how are you' or 'what have you been up to', just 'answer these questions so I can tell you about yourself'.

He's crazy. Not in a maniacal, violent way, though I did catch glimpses of his physically aggressive side while we were dating, but in a delusional, cult follower sort of way. Who knows, maybe the email really was just him doing research on some stupid shit that he's 'following' now.

Regardless of its intent, it got me thinking about him again, which I hate to do. It goes nowhere. It's just me shifting the blame of what went wrong back and forth between him and me. I start to analyze everything that he'd ever done or said. I'll recount all the stupid, shitty things he's done and then I'll switch over and think about all the cute, endearing things. I'll sit there and wonder if I'll ever care about someone of the opposite sex again.

I do date, though you wouldn't be able to tell from this blog. I'm just too picky. I can't get into anyone else until I get over the fact that L is gone. Sometimes I wish he would just die so that he were really gone and I'd be forced to move on. Then I feel terrible about wishing for such a thing. I don't know.