Stripper Mecca

There really is no such place.

All the girls in the middle hear alternately that the west or the east is better. All the girls west and east hear tales of the middle and the opposite coast.

Every place is what you make of it really and so far I have made a mess here.

I am not proud.

But this is as close as I have come to home since I was part of a hand-picked group of girls chosen to revamp a club. That was my heyday. Made more money than god, no rules, no extras and I did amazing stage shows and was paid accordingly.

Before the accident, before the massive decline in the industry.

I know it’s not coming back and that is okay.

I came back.

This is my swan song.

I have 2 years left in me and then I will be “Sarah the writer”, probably bartend too. But I got about 2 weeks left in me if it keeps going this way.

You put a bunch of people with not enough supplies to go around, on a tiny island and whaddya get?

An episode of Survivor.

I don’t like games and alliances. That was my marriage. Sneaky backstabbing, head games galore.

Twisted lies and utter horseshit as I sat on the couch trying to maintain my Zen.
My mantra?
Its okay, I know what I said and I have the screenshots.

I thought I left that world behind, but out of the frying pan into the fire.

Truth be told, I would rather be in the fire, it is warmer there and I have a chance to be reborn from the ashes.

For now I am a dentist pulling teeth and a firefighter, putting out the flames as they erupt.

And an impatient, slightly charred phoenix.

But I have to remember.

My last boss sat me down at the bar one night and told me I had a small army of girls willing to do whatever I said, called me Mama Billy (my old dancing name), high priestess of the place, queen of everything, master manipulator, he went on for about 3 minutes straight. I know he was trying to make fun of me and be insulting, but there was some reverence in there and a whole lotta ‘I have no idea how to deal with you’.

Work with me then, not against me.

Bless him, after a year of fighting me on everything, he decided to start using my ‘talents’ and I gladly let him. Everything simmered down for a good long time.

That has also been indicative of a lot of the clubs I worked at, especially the last one with its iron clad hierarchy, Halo at the top and the rest of us in an unpredictable pecking order underneath.

I was Queen B, which made her Queen A.

She ruled her changeroom and I took care of the girls in mine. For the most part we had a good system going after we ironed things out. But we are both gone and all kingdoms fall apart sometimes. It can’t be helped.

I was so happy to get out of that microcosm. When it was bad it was very very bad and when it was good…it still fucking sucked.

I almost reposted https://www.ourladyoflustandgrace.com/open-letter-to-the-girls-i-work-with.html

But then I realized the butthurt is real and I remembered my last up down relationship and the fact that they take everything personally and cannot seem to grasp dates and times.

I made a couple good points in that article though. I remember why I wrote it. I had 2 girls at work that needed saving, but they were bitey venomous things. And I remember the parable of the woman and the snake. She helps said snake, gets bitten and the only explanation was “you knew what I was when you picked me up.”

I have been down this road before. At work and at home. I know how it ends.

I don’t need anti-venom if I don’t get bit. My snake charming days are behind me.

I know exactly what that was. I just didn’t hear the rattle until it was almost too late.

I am out of practice and have forgotten how to play the game. I was hanging out with a girl who I did not realize was something akin to bipolar on an upswing and she crashed and tried to take me with her.

She lied to me and about me. I cannot abide.

I am on a one strike rule. Unless you are fucking me and it’s good, then the number strikes I will allow seem to rise exponentially with the orgasms I get out of it.

Speaking of…

No sign of the boy.

I had hoped he would come after I told the ocean I was home, and him and it was his birthday.

That was a massive let down that took days to recover from. And another meltdown. Fukushima sized.

No real money yet but that is typical for here this time of year. Sometimes you can know exactly what you are getting into and still get slapped with the reality of it. Sometimes you can ignore all the signs and get slapped with that too. Hugs and punches baby, not enough hugs and too many punches.

I really do need a hug and a $1000.

Been drinking too much, the stage fright is real. So is the shyness.

 

Ya know, the usual.

 

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This post seems to be about as scattered as I feel right now. Which is a lot.

The voice in my head keeps telling me to hang on, spring is coming. And I know this to be the truth. I have been here before, kneeling and reeling from way to many kicks when I was already down.

But I got back up every other time and I will again.

Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

The fun thing about being me is that eighth time, I get to fly.

When I get dragged this far, I know something wonderful is coming.