Ugh, the worst part of work is when a customer has the audacity to ask me for my # and they haven’t spent any money on me. So, you only brought enough money to get trashed, and hopefully get me drunk too. Blame it on the alcohol or your ego, whatever. Let me be clear : I’m not a wine & dine. I’m not a cheap date. When am I free? I’m never free. I’m a stripper honey, business before pleasure is my life motto. Respect the hustle.
Then there’s the obnoxious idiot who think he’s spent enough and he’s “banged” strippers before. And he’s used to paying to play (prostitution). That idiot doesnt know what hits him when I easily hand over them digits (412)867-5309. He’ll figure it out when he gets home.
So your probably thinking, surely I’ve given my number out sometime. Yes, it is true. You spend $2,000 in a week on me. Yes, please call me and let me know you are coming to see me at the club.
Gold digger? no. It is only gold digging when there lacks chemistry. Money hungry? Sometimes. If I wasn’t a dancer, I would definitely be classified as the “wifey type” aka “ride or die”, or “ride and live.” So if I see a gentleman seriously falling in love with me seriously ( like on some near sober shit), I don’t run him for broke. It’s like for a second, I get sensitive and remember when I loved being in love and how I hated being so vulnerable.. and then I look at the customer with warning eyes. Inside I’m screaming, don’t do it! Don’t be so vulnerable! I’m only a stripper! That’s all I can be to you! Then I turn them back into the hands on my more ambitious colleagues. To whom he gives all his money, once he is drunk. Smh, yea, I know. Stupid. But I let the real good ones go, I swear I’m saving myself from long-term stalker issues. My biggest stalker is in Powhatan Prison. Yes, it gets real.
If you know/met me outside the club, as long as you don’t see me in the club or sexually like me, I won’t treat you like a customer. I will give you my number, I won’t answer when I’m in hustlers mode but if you text me that your out on the strip or the Southside, and I just so happen to be out. I might grab a drink, and share a moment of catching up. I do have people who genuinely care about me. I’m not an asswhole. I’m an asshalf. I’m just so bipolar I rather be consistently alone than send mixed signals. When your bipolar you’re never alone… haha. Anyway, if you know me, thanks for understanding, much love.