I’ve been a magical magpie stripper this week. Men keep gifting me blue and shiny things.
Gifts include…
Denim shirt (I kinda stole that one, but he let me)
Diamond ring
Silver ring
Pulp fiction lighter (tried to give it back, I swear)
Pretty white gold chain
And ya. A large group of US military men walked in. I looked at one of them and said “I am leaving with that shirt on, mark my words.”
Yep, I totally got a Deadpool shirt off a dude from Alabama, he let me walk downstairs with it (and nothing else) on and his army buddies cheered me out the door. After tipping us all and treating us like queens.
God bless the troops and Yay me.
I needed this.
Guess I got my swagger back.
The Deadpool shirt night was also my second $1000+ night since I got back here.
Needed that more than I can express in English, I’ve been feeling like a struggling unicorn.
Don’t be too jealous, I had to fucking WORK for it.
You have no idea.
Best line of that particular night.
After 4+ hours of dealing with a giant child/ drunk lawyer who repeatedly told me
I wasn’t worth anything because of my profession/you’re so smart you should be doing something better with yourself/fuck you
A nice man overheard everything, bought me a shot then took me upstairs and simply said
“I apologize for my gender.”
There is hope.
I always find the hope in these places. Usually in the form of Younglings defending my honor. People getting me home when I am too fucked to function and the ones that get me that fucked up and bring me rings to apologize.
There is always the bad too. But they are blissfully rare.
I know there are a lot of misconceptions about strip club customers.
I would say 90% ish are just regular dudes.
A few pervs, but very few.
And then there is this special brand of asshole who sees another guy having a good time with a girl or two and makes it his mission to interfere intervene and just be an angry little douche canoe.
Happened when the boy would come by and happened again last night.
Just no, mind your business and let the people be happy. Fuck.
Some research group somewhere polled a bunch of strip club patrons asking why they went to strip clubs. Entertainment, someone to talk to were the main reasons but the scary one was so they could turn down and insult women that were out of their league.
It happens.
The group of American Military dudes also heard the drunk lawyer baby berating me and got between said douchebag and I outside, and a few of them made a point of asking me if I was okay.
I am.
Been through worse. There were 3 days in a row where men decided grabbing licking my ass was a good thing to do.
Narrator: It was NOT a good thing to do.
I get that my butt looks like a nicely decorated well framed peach but NOTHING OF MINE GOES NEAR YOUR MOUTH.
I didn’t end well. I know ju jitsu. And I am very protective of my body even when I fill it full of whiskey.
Which I also did for 3 days, not the same days but still.
Everything in 3’s and I am glad that phase is over with.
The first butt licking incident occurred when I was beyond wasted. A tiny blond stripper had to come get me and keep me from unleashing more hell, and she had to do up my bra. It was being tricksy. And yet another Youngling came to my rescue when Tina and Alex couldn’t figure it out either and their nails got in the way. They found a safe boy to dress me and apparently I greeted him with a big grin and my arms out like Jesus on the cross.
I wish there was video sometimes. Like when my manager notices me going from functioning to wasted in 2 seconds and asks me how I manage. My answer, and now the code word for “give Sarah some water” is me answering with a shit eating grin simply stating “Magic.”
I do have my magic back.
And a Deadpool t-shirt.
And a lot of hope for the future.
