Hear ye hear ye. A proclamation from the queen that is me.
Gah, I fucking hate that. Women calling themselves queens and goddesses running around belittling men and other women. That is not how this works, that is not how any of this works.
You know what else doesn’t work…
This fucking phenomenon wherein men sit in the front row at strip clubs and think/believe that somehow the stripper on stage can’t hear what you are saying. Seriously who talks like that about a girl you don’t know?
It’s not a zoo. There’s no soundproof glass between us and you. Knock that nasty shit off. You bang on the glass at pet stores to scare the kittens too don’t you? Gross.
However, if you would like to sing karaoke to Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing while giving me lusty eyes and smiles, as you were, please do that.
I like that.
I might be prompted to write my name down on a piece of paper and pass it to you like a note in study hall.
But that is a story for another day.
It’s not a zoo, it’s not a pet store or a museum.
After much studying of the subject I have decided strip clubs are decidedly like high school.
And every night is a Sadie Hawkins dance. Girls asking the boys. Sometimes they say yes.
One of the girls said to me that she read somewhere that men go to strip clubs so they can reject women that are way out of their league. That is one reason I guess. Misguided and sad, but a reason. Maybe we could slip the zoo analogy in their too. The men come to look at exotic things, and sometimes they bang on the glass and throw shit like the caged primates they are. But that makes them the animals, not us. If the dirty shoe fits, a girl might end up throwing it at you.
Back to high school.
I wonder if that is part of the reason I gravitate to work in those places. I ran away from home at 15 subsequently not having a high school experience. Who takes a stripper to the prom?
I wasn’t a stripper then. I just had a regular job, rent and bills to pay. I didn’t finish high school until my son was born keeping with my trend of doing absolutely everything backwards. But I did it and graduated with honors, so there is that then.
Strip clubs are a hierarchy. The bouncers are the jocks, the waitresses are the teaching staff. We have a principal and a vice-principal playing good cop/bad cop nightly, sometimes switching roles to keep us on our toes. There are the popular (and sometimes) mean girls. The foreign exchange students keep to themselves. There are the shop kids, the goth girls, and bullies. Girls from homes in varying stages of broken putting on make up to hide bruises. Teenage pregnancy abounds.
In my limited high school career I floated around between groups, friends with everyone and no one. Except the Plastics, they hated me, made my life hell. Called me every euphemism for slut in the book, surprised they knew how to open books really, might break a nail.
The ‘slut’ moniker comes in handy now. It is my job to appear available even though I most certainly am not.
Locker contents are decidedly different, more sparkles and lucite shoes, less books but I have seen a few. Still hair spray and lip gloss though. And vodka, someone always has vodka in their locker. And the principals do the occasional sweep looking for contraband, wait…that’s jail. Its kinda like jail too.
There is drama and crushes nightly. “Did you hear about so and so?” Gossiping bitches galore. Not always just the girls either, most of us have better things to do. Like homework.
There are the good students who just put their heads down and do the work. Then there are the others, some of them skip constantly begging the question why are you even here? Someone is always getting suspended or kicked out over something. Unlike the jocks at my high school, the bouncers I work with are the good kind of tough guy. They keep us safe, like hall monitors with honorable discharges and security training.
I think every environment filled with random people will always falls into a similar pattern. Maybe jail is like high school as well, just bloodier. I have never been but I can ask around. Every office I ever worked in. Yep, we humans are pretty basic creatures when you stick us in a building and ask us to perform a certain task.
My job?
A lot like getting up in front of the class to do those once dreaded book report presentations aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand the clincher? I’m naked.
It’s not a nightmare anymore. I used to stutter and sputter trying to get the words out, hands cold and clammy with fear.
Stage is my favorite place to be.
I have found my voice speaking in stern clipped teacher tones explaining that “yes, I can fucking hear every word you are saying”.
My life now is much the same as it was in high school.
Except the Mean Girls like me.
I guess we have progressed a little past the playground.
