elias

elias had moonstruck eyes. they effervesced silver. i approached him like i approach all men in the strip club, confident and smiling. when i looked down into his face, and his sky-bound eyes looked up at me, i sort of tripped on the inside. on the inside i dusted myself off and then i asked, smiling, if i could sit down. his face smiled back and i tripped on the inside again. deep breath. pick yourself up. come on, Alexis. get with it. i did the small chat thing but it sounded like the first time i had ever spoken these silly little get-to-know-you questions because i really cared what he answered. i found out in rather short time that he lived in my hometown. i asked if he wanted a dance. i really wanted him to say yes so that i could get closer to him. instead, he made an even better decision; he asked to pay me to talk. getting paid to talk is about the nicest compliment a stripper like me can get in the club.

we talked until i was called on stage. i was wearing my white lace dress which makes me look angelic and he watched me like i was an angel disrobing. i knew better than to put my tits in his face and shake my shoulders so in exchange for his five dollars folded into a heart i picked the move where i slide the length of my body, from shoulder to hip across his face. his nose bumped ever so slowly over my ribs.

when i got off stage and got dressed in the dressing room, i had already decided. as i pushed the curtain aside to get back onto the floor i took a deep breath and prepared myself to say yes if he asked me to dinner. which, of course, he did. he then offered me more money. “save it for taking me out to dinner,” i said. that is about the biggest compliment a stripper like me can give in the club. when i drove home that night i felt electric.

i started out giving him my email and in our first exchange, i told him i lied about where i lived. in fact, i live in the same town he lives in. i asked for total discreteness about my occupation and gave him the chance to walk away. he asked me to call him. i did and told him i wasn’t really called Alexis. we set up a date for a coffee shop where we re-met with my real name. we had so much fun at coffee i called in sick and we went for dinner.

insert romantic montage here. we drove about forty five minutes to another town and a fancy restaurant. we kissed on an overlook and the stars wished they weren’t so far apart and felt lonely considering the universe is still expanding. he had working hands, my favorite, big and calloused. he builds things and the things he builds have curves and he told me all he thinks about all day are curves and he traced the bending line of my waist. insert a couple more dates and some long phone conversations and me being giggly and him talking the kind of talk that assumes a bit of a future together. just enough to go sailing and traveling and start a business together. we had sex in his little cabin that he lights with candles and his penis fit in me so perfect i could cum on the bottom which almost never happens. we drank a lot of wine and smoked a lot of herb together. the air wavered around us.

the only thing that concerned me was that i could never sleep when he slept over. he slept light and so whenever  i turned over to try a new angle, hoping for slumber, he’d wake up. so i’d lay still for very long stretches of time. and the spastic dreams that did come, halfway between daydreams and nightdreams were always uncomfortable and it seemed like all i could see were a pile of photos of elias but i could never string them together. they made no sense. no continuity. like he wasn’t a real person but just a series of snapshots.

oh yeah, and sometimes he would talk about the aliens he saw and how one should prepare for the apocalypse. and sometimes he would just tell me he was sad and couldn’t talk.

soon enough he started acting a little weird with me. y’all know the rundown. he stopped calling. we had circular discussions that lacked logic but were full of blame. he flip flopped on his opinions. including the one where he thought i was strong and sexy for being a stripper and instead wondered if he could ever seriously date someone who danced. naked.

i’ve known for awhile that my stripping would affect my dating life. my ex-boyfriend’s words spoken long before i started danced are seared into my memory, “if i knew you ever had stripped, i would never date you.” when i started stripping i thought long, hard thoughts about who would never love me if they knew.

men are fragile creatures and i’ve always sort of been okay with the idea that i might stop stripping if i fell in love with a man who couldn’t handle it. or even if i thought i could fall in love with them, i might stop. stripping is not integral to me and relationship require compromise. so had elias asked me to stop and done other things like, call me when he said he would and be, generally speaking, interested in a relationship with me, i might have considered it. as it was, he didn’t do any of these things. he did, however, continue acting weird. finally, we had a phone conversation where he asked to just be friends and, in another display of weirdness, told me that he couldn’t have sex with me because he was going through some stuff and needed only “pure” relations. this only annoyed me because i had been so reticent to have sex with him in the beginning and he had claimed that “sex is beautiful” and opined on himself as a “very sexual human being.” now his opinion on sex seemed to be of the evangelical variety but he’s a buddhist so i guess it’s just a general monkish celibacy he was choosing to invoke. then he talked some more and it was all grey and shady and weird.

i agreed to be friends even though i don’t really want or need another friend, especially one whose dick is shaped so nicely and refuses to fuck me for the sake of purity. he was really sure we would stay friends but, of course, he never called. and i surely didn’t call him.

fast forward one month. he asks me to dinner all flirtatiously with big lit up eyes. i say yes (what can i say?! he’s hot). we’re supposed to eat together on sunday – i’m working on saturday. i text him at work to confirm dinner plans. we confirm them. and then,

me: see you then…

him: What do you say to having one of ur counterparts take a photo of Ms. Alexis so’s u can send it to me??

me in my thoughts: really? that’s weird. i thought we agreed to be friends. hmmm.

me in text: I don’t think so. Alexis doesn’t exist.

him: Wha?

me: Well, I mean there is no Alexis. If i sent you a photo of me in lingerie it would be of [Real Name] and last I hear you were wanting only friendship. And anyways, I never have and probably never will send lingerie photos of me over cellular lines…

me in my thoughts: was that harsh? i still sort of want to have sex with him.

me in text: I find it flattering that you asked, though. Just imagine red and lacy

him: Guess I’ll have to come down there.

me in my thoughts: whoah! does he want to be my friend, my lover, or my customer? either way i might get money or sex. hmmm. this is tricky. and intriguing.

me in text: now that could get interesting.

about an hour or so later

him: Guess i lost my head there. Ur right about just friends. Can’t blame a guy can u?

me in my thoughts: actually, yes, you can. i spend all night not blaming guys. in real life, you can definitely blame them.

the next morning i was so bummed on the deal, dinner sounded less than tasty. i knew that if dinner went badly i would be bummed and if dinner went well and we slept together i would feel like an “unpure” booty call and would be bummed (pure booty calls are plenty fine but it never feels good to help someone sin when you don’t believe sex is wrong). plus there was a shift available that night to work. i figured i’d rather make money then probably not get laid and either way feel bummed. so i called him as texting is not really my preferred method of communication for lover-types, ex or otherwise. he didn’t pick up so:

me: Elias, I’m going to have to cancel on dinner. Something came up. Raincheck?

him: Too bad u can’t call n say it like an actual (as opposed to digitalvirtual) friend. Think I’ll take a raincheck (braincheck) on ur raincheck. Cheers.

me in my thoughts: weird.

me in text: I tried calling. You didn’t pick up.

him: Think I’ve learned my lesson. Peace to u.

me in text: For the record, your “digitalvirtual” self tried to get digitalvirtual sexy photos from me last night. Sorry but that made me feel crappy and cheap and dinner didn’t sound so friendly anymore. Sorry you’re embarrassed you your behavior enough to resort to saying shitty things to me today about my supposed lack of integrity.

him: Trying to cover up ur shallow behavior with nonsense is laughable. U don’t have ANY integrity, Alexis.

me: You wish I was Alexis. Then you could pay me to be a dick and feel alright about it.

him: U do it so well and for so many multitudes of lonely old me like me that I figure u’d enjoy. Good luck finding your real self.

at this point i’m crying. i know he’s being a dick and he’s most likely dealing with some mental instability but i’m still crying. and i can’t bite the bait for more fighting.

me: I was always [Real Name] when I was with you. I had sex with you with an open heart. For whatever reasons you may be angry with me (I guess because I reminded you we were friends last night and cancelled dinner tonight) but trying to reduce me to Alexis is incredibly hurtful. I expected more from you on a human to human level. Please don’t contact me anymore. Good luck with your peace.

him: U hurt me by trading me in for someone else. Ur just a little girl tho so I shuld have expected it. Good luck on ur journey.

me in my thoughts: okay, we’re in nutter butter territory. i never saw anyone else while we were casually dating. what is he talking about? and he’s clearly trying to get at me by referencing our age difference but i was never insecure about that anyways. weird.

me in text: What are you talking about? Who or what did I trade you in for?

no answer.

me in my thoughts: i’m going to lay the story out as i know it and be done with it.

me in text: I liked you a lot. You told me you only wanted my friendship. I didn’t trade you in…

him: U didn’t have a problem with anything last nite. “could be interesting” u txt’d me. Sorry i got vicious. I’m comin from some serious hurt, I guess. Lets lose each other’s #’s and forget this ever happened!

me in my thoughts: damn. i should have seen crazy coming last night and not texted him that. i guess i really wanted his dick or his money or his pretty eyes looking at me. oh well. he’s right in pointing that out.

me in text: As for last night, I would have let you be my customer if only to have a face to face conversation about what you were wanting: friendship, lovers, or customer status. When you flip flopped so abruptly I realized you probably didn’t know which made me realize that needed some space to think before I saw you for dinner. Plus, something really did come up.

me in text continued: It’s sort of my worst fear that my job would make me unloveable so having you call me Alexis as a means of making me feel less than human really really makes me sad. As for losing each other’s numbers you have a deal.

and that was that. i never heard from him again. it’s a small town, we’ve driven by each other a half dozen times. neither of us waves. that sunday, i did go into work and the d.j. hugged me and the girls were in unison that you just can’t give a fuck about what someone wants to think about you and your integrity as a stripper. my regular told me i was amazing and whoever got me was a lucky sonofabitch.

worst stripper fear realized. box checked. moving right along in love and sex work.

Tags: dating, dating a stripper, love, stripper stigma, stripping