I got a chance to hang out by the pool with my friends, the stripper/bouncer couple that I mentioned in the last blog. I really didn’t give them enough credit. He is extremely sweet and understanding and totally deserving of my stripper friend, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in person. She is also as humble as she is beautiful. They laugh and joke and have incredible communication. They’re lucky to have each other.
I sat next to them on the outdoor cushions inside a cabana that they had reserved for the day. I felt wet and icky from the Las Vegas heat and humidity building up under my bikini, which remained covered by my clothing. Beads of sweat ran down my forehead just below my messy hair. My friend maintained her beauty impeccably with her shimmery, pale eyeshadow and long spider-leg eyelashes coated in waterproof mascara. I hadn’t been to a hotel pool party before and I forgot that we were supposed to wear make-up and high heels. The place was crowded with tattoos and big hair and polluted with house music. I had foolishly planned to go for a quiet swim.
I brought up the sensitive topic of jealousy in a stripper’s relationship. “I know this might be a sensitive issue, but … how comfortable are you with your girlfriend’s job?” I asked the bouncer.
He explained that he was completely comfortable. He knows it’s just a job. What a sweetheart.
“What about the fact that she’s grinding on c*ck?” I added. He told me that her job is to arouse men and take all their money. It simply doesn’t bother him. He trusts her. He has seen me dance, too, and remarked that we’re ridiculously clean dancers. Spoiled dancers, really.
“How often do you or did you go to strip clubs before you were a bouncer?” I ask, which brings me to a very, very interesting observation. “Maybe once a year.” It’s not really his thing. In my experience of dating while being a stripper, there is an incredibly high correlation between a level of disapproval for my job and the level of pleasure that my boyfriend enjoys from patronizing a strip club. “That’s because he probably had a dirty experience and he thinks you’re one of those girls” my stripper friend believes. “He’s one of those guys who tries to get away with as much as he can” the bouncer says.
I once dated a guy who would never ever give me a ride to work. He would pick me up but he would not take me to work because he refused to put me in that dreadful situation. He also once spent $1,400 on a stripper in one sitting.
On the other end of the spectrum, I dated a guy who had only had a lap dance once in his life because his friend bought him one. Paying for attention wasn’t his thing. He understood that it was fake. He was the most comfortable with my job.
My stripper/bouncer couple friends made their inferences about this correlation and I suppose I’ll present mine as well. I suspect, though I can not say for sure, that the men who have enjoyed the strip clubs the most are the ones who are the most charmed by the intimate (albeit fake) experience. They, perhaps, are fooled by the giggles and batting eyelashes and dirty talk. The strip club experience is so highly special and personal that it hurts them to imagine that their girlfriend is making and sharing that experience with other men.
The bottom line is that lap dances are a meaningless physical experience to most dancers. Being in love with a significant other is not affected by our professional physical labor. The occasional hard-ons pose no threat. Trust us.
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