lesbehonest.

Let me start off by saying that I love dancing for gay women. They never try to touch your hoo-ha, and they aren't aggressive. For the most part, they are gentle with you, full of sweet compliments and aren't drunken slobs. I truly get happy to dance for them. I feel that I can connect with women, touch their skin in just the right way & breath on their neck ever so softly that I can almost feel them get hot. Maybe it is because I have been with other women sexually in the past, or because I just know what I like, but I get quite a bit of lesbians that stay as loyal customers to me and keep coming back. 

With that said, it makes it that much harder when they ask me for my number. Naturally, I have a separate work number to text only good paying customers when I'm at work and it gets slow. 

I had given this girl a dance last week and she came in again last night. I don't remember her name, but she is a heavier set Hispanic girl, maybe around 30, with long hair and a very pretty face. I didn't see her at first, but as I was talking to one of our security guards, she approached me with a huge smile. 

"Are you available for a dance beautiful?" 

I took her hand and we went for a few dances. With that real thick chola accent she has, she explained that she had just gotten off work and was there with a few coworkers, but she really had wanted to come back because she loved how I danced with her. 

Uh oh. 

I already knew where this was going. I didn't want to give my number because I know I will never go out with her, but she was so nice (and spends at least a bill on me) that I figured what the hell. Sure. By the end of the night, she had my work number in her phone, as I was right on my prediction, and I left her with a kiss on the cheek. 

Now, I just have to keep her coming in until she gets annoyed with the fact that I will always be too busy to meet up with her and she stops spending money. Per usual with customers that you give your number to. 

As we are talking about same gender on gender interactions, I witnessed a drunk customer reach out and touch our floorwalker's balls. 

Have I officially seen it all? 

the truth hurts.

Well, le deuchebag ultimo's fiancé sent me a text today. She asked if I was at work on Friday night.. the night he was in the club. I decided I better call her and explain. She said she looked on his email and saw that he looked up the address, so she wanted to know if that is where he ended up. 

I was caught.

Well.. actually, he was caught. Her tears ripped my heart open. I know that feeling of finding out that your man has lied to you, and that he was with other women. In all honesty, I know I couldn't tell her. I told her he did nothing inappropriate (white lie?) and that it just isn't what she thinks it is. Sometimes I feel that I am insensitive to people because I am used to people at work, and even when I pretend I care, I really just don't. 

It is different with this girl. She has such a good heart and is so sweet that knowing she was sad made me feel actually hurt for her. She just lost her grandmother a few weeks ago, that she is very close to, right before she failed a nursing core class for the second time and just got a dismissal letter from school. Yesterday I had promised her that I would write her a letter of recommendation as she appealed her dismissal, and today I feel that I am adding to her stress.

I know this is NOT my fault. Ultimately, it is her fiancé who decided to lie. 

But then.. why do I feel like I betrayed her?

the cowardly lion.

I got to work just in time to hear our house mom say to the dressing room, "You have to come check out this guy making out with his hand!". I hurried to get dressed and check in to go see the hand licker. I thought there was no way she meant there was someone actually making out with his hand. But no. There he was in all his glory. The man fully making out with his hand sitting at the tip rail. 

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. 

the secrets we keep.

Through the years that I have been dancing, I have run into my fair share of boyfriends and husbands of girls I know. Thankfully, they have always been more like acquaintances on Facebook, etc., not requiring me to keep much of a straight face in person when I have to shake the hand of their significant other that just saw me in my bra and panties a few weeks prior.

Last night went quite well. I showed up a little late and did the usual routine. I chit chatted with a few close girlfriends, went to the bad to catch up with my one British customer who is nice company and will buy me a drink. As we sat there talking about nothing, I spy in the corner of my eye at the end of the bar: le douchebag ultimo. Complete with the enormous muscles popping out of his few sizes too small affliction shirt, cowboy hat, Jack Daniels tattoo & cheap beer in his hand, I knew who it was, even though I had to blink a few times to make sure I really wasn't seeing things. Could that really be my friend's.. fiance? Please...no. My really close girlfriend *Jessica from school and her new fiance are one of the only people at school who know I dance. With the exception of one other person, she is it. I trust her and she has such a good heart, I know there is no judgement. How this guy managed to get her is beyond me, but like I said, there is no judgement. So the fact that he sees me dancing actually isn't the problem, it is that I have to face her on a regular basis at school and now I know I must keep a secret from her. We met eyes and it took a few seconds for us to realize it was definitely the other person, but as his hand went up over his mouth, I figured I better go over and clear the air. He excused himself from chatting up the waitress (I tried to be hopeful that he wasn't trying anything there) and we awkwardly exchanged hugs. He told me that she had always said I worked at a club in LA, he just never knew it was that one. He explained that he had just got a new job working at an auto body shop not too far from the club, and he was with a bunch of coworkers just having a few beers.

"Do you..uh...have to go on stage to dance?"

"I just finished my set right now."

"Oh! Oh okay good. I just glanced over at who was dancing but only for a second (yeah buddy, because you were too busy flirting with the waitress by the bar) and I totally didn't realize it was you. Well listen..uh..."

"You don't have to say anything *Jonathan. I am not going to tell her I saw you here. We never saw each other, and this never happened. Okay?" I tried to smile and laugh to make light of the situation, and he took a deep breath as I rescued him from asking me to keep this a secret. "Just finish your drink, relax and have a good time", I said for good measure. He then proceeded to tell me about how much alcohol he has drank already since he got there, and how much, exactly to the dollar amount, he has spent without getting hammered. Side note: douchey guys love to tell you how much they drank and how much they spent. Also, it is a famous trait of the painfully cheap men as well. Then he told me that this could actually work out to my benefit, because he could throw me a bunch of money on stage to make me look good, as long as I gave it back (refer back to my last sentence). It was at this time that his buddies noticed we were spending time together and tried to wave us over.

"Bring her over here man! Come on!"

I had already noticed his friends checking me out before I had seen him, and since it was still pretty quiet in the club, I decided I could maybe make some money out of this deal. We walked over to his table and I sat down on one of the guys laps. I could tell they all liked me (there also were only a handful of girls there). I sat there and talked for a bit, but Jonathan refused to sit down, which would have been next to me as that was the only spot left, plus the guy I was with wasn't ready for a dance just yet, so I excused myself and said that I would be back in a few minutes. As I got up and walked away, Jonathan smacked my ass hard and said "Get out of here girl!", leaving me absolutely stunned. I kept walking away, but the look on my face must have been priceless. What the fuck was that about? I feel like he did it to maybe show off to his friends, but seriously what the hell? The next hour went from confused to downright annoyed with Jonathan. He kept bothering me with customers and trying to wave me over. Even my good British friend he managed to get me to walk away from by saying he had something important to tell me, but then once I got over to him he said he was just "saving me from that man". Later he puts a $20 in my bottom in front of his friends like he is a big baller, but once his friends aren't looking, he actually takes it back! HE TAKES IT BACK. He is just lucky that I ended up getting quite a few dances from his friends later on when he was busy chatting up the waitress again, or else I seriously might have made an issue about that.

I ended up sitting with this guy with a dollar sign tatted on his eylid who paid me just to sit with him, tipped me good on stage and was actually very nice to talk to (good money is always easy money). He would point out that the "dude in the cowboy hat" kept waving me over, but I just nodded at Jonathan from across the room and kept my eyes anywhere but over to him. Eventually him and his buddies left, at which point I waved a very enthusiastic good-bye, because truthfully I have never been happier to see money walk out of the club.