regular love

i started dancing to make people fall in love with me.

i’m trying to think now, looking back, why.

saying because i’m in love with love is far too trite though possibly part of the truth.

maybe because in my epic quest to save the world i thought if i made some men fall in love with me they’d do crazy things like be more kind and caring. i imagined them all with a big glowing smile the day after a night in the club with me, donating all their ill-gotten salaries on charity and opening doors for old ladies and giving me lots of money to do my epic-quest driven volunteer work.

maybe because, you know, love makes the world go round and if i could just jump from one love nut to the next, i’d be the happiest girl in the whole world.

maybe because i was lonely and not in a romantic way but in a middle class suburban way.

anyways a customer fell in love with me. i guess.

it was desperate though. and misguided. and didn’t inspire acts of creativity, kindness, or change in either of us. nor did it really have anything to do with me as much as with the aiding and abetting of misery that my customer already abounded in.

in short it wasn’t really love at all. though he said that’s what it was.

he paid me gargantuan sums to listen to him for hours and dance on him for hours and pulled the money back when i didn’t listen, respond, move, dress, think or act as he expected me too.

like the lovelorn who finally gets their prize only to find it wan and undesirable, i would arrive at the club, teeth gritted and smile pasted on to wait for him. greedy folks know it’s the wanting not the getting that’s fun. really i’m as culpable as all the customers who have come in hoping a lapdance would lead to fucking. i was hoping it would lead to loving. had the customers got laid it would never be near their fantasies. as for me, the fire under my ass to make people fall in love with me while getting grips of money at the same time was realized and extinguished within a few months.

there are too many details to recount. random number. four:

1. dean was married to a woman who allegedly hated him. fucked him every day until her debt was paid off and then they moved into separate rooms. he ate fast food or microwave dishes every meal. dean didn’t know how to cook an egg.

2. dean came in drunk every night that i worked and figured out what car i drove and would circle the parking lot looking for me when i wasn’t there. i took to driving my boyfriend’s truck. one time i met some of the girls at the gas station next to the club to stash my car in their lot and hitch a ride with my fellow dancers. while i was waiting in the parking lot a biker drove up to my window and offered me meth. the gas station is right next to the club.

3. dean was pretty sure he was going to die from some mysterious medical condition he was having. the night before the results of one of his tests he came into the club. like normal he spent a lot of cash and like normal i could feel his boner under me when i was giving him a lap dance. then he began crying while i danced for him. his dick stayed hard.

4. dean stormed out of the club one night when i came out dressed in a red fish net dress and danced for another customer. he was sure that i had worn my in-his-words “frumpy” evening gown earlier in the evening because i didn’t like him and saved my sexy outfit for a random gentlemen. he didn’t say goodbye. i knew, from a pure financial standpoint, i should have only danced for dean when he was there. he left angry at me more nights than one. nonetheless, no matter how hard i searched for it, i couldn’t find my strip club monogamy.

all this happened and much more. his dick would dribble. i would use hand sanitizer on my thighs.

finally i went away for a week and visited a friend.

i recognized i was caught in a sugar daddy relationship in the club, more required to fulfill the necessities of his girlfriend experience then be a plain old stripper. a fly by night, love ‘em and leave ‘em kinda gal. i broke up with him. he was sad then bitter then angry. he was too immature to ever arrive at the final stage of “over it”. meanwhile i didn’t make money so i dropped off the face of the stripping planet.

which is why i’ve been so quiet.