Just when you think you have seen all the weird shit there is to possibly see in the club, that guy walks in.
Anyways, after doing my usual routine of talking to my Brit man at the bar and ordering a drink, my favorite doorman, big *Don, came up to let me know a guy from an NFL team (while I wont say which one, you can maybe take a guess from the title of this post) just came in for the third time this week and he wants me to talk to him. He said he had spent $2,000 on another girl earlier in the week (which night was this that I missed that?!), but he didn't want to talk to that girl tonight so I should go try. I love big Don to death. He is always helping me out, but damn did this one go south.
It seemed all good when I went to introduce myself to him. He told me that he liked Hispanic girls, so he really liked this club, and ordered us a few drinks. Usually, if a man is asking you what you want to drink, it means they want you to stay, which is exactly what I did. I saw the manager give him a huge bag filled with singles and thought I finally caught a break. I am not normally the dancer that gets all of her money from stage, or from sitting with a customer all night, but every once in a while I get lucky. Damn, I couldn't have been more wrong about the situation. Eventually he was tipping a few other girls on stage really good, just taking a huge wad of cash and chucking it at them, not caring that most of it ended up on the floor. At that point I thought maybe I should leave, after all he hasn't given me so much as a dollar. But he went to go smoke outside and asked me to stay and watch his phone and a stack of singles, so I sat back and relaxed, expecting a long night of flattening out dollar bills and figuring out how much I should tip big Don for giving me this goldmine. When it was my turn to go on stage, I waited for it. Another girl he tipped had come over to us, whom I happen to very much like, so I thought for sure I'll get rained on, no question. Unfortunately, I left the stage with $6 (from my trusty Brit), and a very confused look on my face, I'm sure.
Seriously ....
I almost didn't go back, but our waitress convinced me to stay.
"He likes girls to dance at his table and he will throw money. Don't worry".
Now, I know I can make decisions for myself, but this isn't a crazy concept. That happens a lot with guys that come in with singles, especially ones that have $3,000 in singles, as this guy did. So whether it was the patron shots kicking in, or just my determination to make money off of this guy I had been sitting with for over an hour without a single dollar already, I decided to listen to her and stay. A few more girls joined us, one he had tipped on stage and another girlfriend of mine. We started dancing and being in party mode at the table, and sure enough he started throwing money. LOTS of money.
Fucking finally.
The next few things seemed to happen very fast. First, a few girl friends of his came into the club. They were thicker Hispanic girls with not so pretty of faces, and I could tell they did not really like me. Then, those girls asked me and my girlfriend to leave because "he didn't like us", supposedly. Then, I explained that I will leave, but I didn't come here to party, I came to work, and I need to collect my share of these tips first and I will leave them alone. And then, I fucking fell. I FELL. I fell on the money all over the ground and I was so embarrassed I didn't even want to get up. I laughed and told the other dancers that we should just get these tips and split them, but first I need to get up, collect my pride, and I will come back in a minute. By the time I got back, they said he refused them to give me any of the money because I waked away.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME.
I had just had it. It was like I could not win. For this guy to try to be so fake and nice to me, trying to act like he wanted me there and end up not even letting me get MY tips was so fucked up. They told me they would give me my share at the end of the night, which they did as they pulled out what seemed like chump change from the entire trash bags of money they had.
I haven't cried at work in a long time. But last night, I definitely did. I quietly walked into the bathroom, let some tears go, dried up my face and walked back out with a tougher skin than I had before.
I don't know what it was that made me feel so sad. We all get guys that don't like us, whether it is our face, or body, or maybe we look like an ex-girlfriend. Whatever it is, we have all had men that just don't like us. We deal with it. Maybe it was because he was the cowardly lion that couldn't do his own dirty work and asked those girls to tell me to leave, as if he hadn't been cool with me for the last hour and a half telling me "don't worry, I got you", making me feel like I can just be discarded at the drop of a hat. Whatever chord it struck in me, it really hit hard.
I chalked it up to him just being one of those guys who likes to cause drama in the club. He likes to be center of attention. After all, the girl he had spent $2,000 a few days ago was the same girl he shooed away before I sat down with him. And as soon as she left early that night (as I could hear in the dressing room, she was pretty upset too) he left as well, most likely in an attempt to make her jealous.
I ended up getting lucky with another guy later, so I didn't have a shitty night monetarily, thankfully. I feel much better today after sleeping off the emotions I had last night.
He isn't the first NFL player I've had in the club, and he won't be the last.
A tip to the cowardly lion? Try to focus on the plays you try to make that you have no business making and maybe if you weren't such an asshole on the field, as you are clearly in your regular life, and actually trusted your teammates, you would live to see more plays.
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