A Few Good Men

The Good Customer. Elusive, rare, often just an illusion. But I have to say, there are some guys who are just solid, solid gold.

My new Irishman regular has reminded me that I need to stop stigmatizing/ridiculing "strip club customers" as some sort of homogenous group. Yes, perhaps many of them are grabby, or stingy, or sexist, or stalkery, or highly self-absorbed. Yes, maybe some of them have questionable STI's. (Who can forget this guy?)

And even with the GOOD customers, there's usually a catch.

For instance, take my aformentioned architect friend (blueprint blueballs guy). He's really nice, and very sweet and kind and respectful of my time as an employee of the club. But it only took him two visits before he started pressing me to meet him outside. As of this week, now that he knows I am not likely to go out with him, he's told me he probably won't be visiting me at the club anymore.

Then there was DVD/girlfriend guy who was hot and interesting. But then he went and split up with his girlfriend because of hopes of being with me and started showing up at the club all the time and got massively annoying.

Generally, "good customer"ness is a short-lived trait. It's a matter of time before you get tired of me, start doubting my motives for being nice to you, start spending less money, or press me to meet you outside.

Mr. Ireland has reminded me that the good customer doesn't always need a fatal flaw. Like I said in my last post, this guy is super politicized, really intelligent, humble, and generous. He never talks down about strippers, never makes excuses or feels the need to justify why he's in the place to begin with, and has no delusions about the commercial nature of our relationship. In other words, he's perfectly happy to fork over money for a good (bounded-authentic) afternoon with me, without trying to turn it into a date, sex, or therapy. (I seriously need to knock on wood... Quick! Get me a customer's crotch!)

Mr. Ireland goes on the list with this guy, and my favorite flamingly gay customer who takes me to the champagne room to chat and get drunk on mimosas.

Then again, this isn't a tough list to top...

Valentine's Pay

Holy crap! Today was our work Valentine's Day party. All the girls had to wear lingerie, which was awesome because it beats the synthetic glittery stretch material we wear normally. It could have been topped only by a "pajamas + slippers" theme. But, wow! The boys were out today, and a-spendin'!

The day started with this customer, a new guy, taking a liking to me and grabbing me for a couple of dances. A Japanese American architect, I had him at some pun about blueprints and blueballs. Generous tipper, nice guy, and definitely in the mood for love. So he's been married for 10 years, and hasn't had sex in 5. I, apparently, am the first person he's told this to.

Then came Mr. Ireland. This guy is a total sweetheart! He's deeply political and loves to talk about the similarities between the Irish and Palestinian people's history. He's also awesomely generous, very much into me, and a complete gentleman.

By the end of the day, the list of "nice, generous, and sweet" customers was a lengthy one! There was only ONE asshole today, and he's sort of a regular customer of mine who got completely hammered. Yes, he was an asshole. He told the bartender "I'm a dentist, and I know bad breath when I smell it, and you have bad breath." He told me, "You have small breasts. You should get a boob job." It was annoying, but he followed up most of his insults with a FIFTY DOLLAR tip. No joke. Every time he pissed me off, he'd drunkenly fumble through his pockets and pull out a crumpled wad of $50s and hand me one. (He'd also mumble "Now don't look at all my money!") He did the same thing with the other girls he'd offended. Then he told me, "I came here just to see you today. Wouldn't it piss you off if I took another girl to the champagne room?" And he actually did it. It would have been annoying except that he'd already given me a lot of cash.

Randomly, Thomson Thomson showed up!!!! I haven't seen the guy since before the raid, months and months ago. I thought I'd never see him again, especially since the time he tried to "shush" me when I told him not to finger-fuck me and he complained to another girl that I "lack dedication." But apparently, he's been hanging out at the strip club across the street from my previous club, and a girl who works there told him where to find me. He came by, gave me a nice tip, and said "I can't buy dances from you here because it's all out in the open, and you know how much I like intimacy." Gawd, whadda loser.

But seriously, we milked Valentine's Day for all it was worth. The Brazilian non-English speaking girls brought notebooks with them that had English messages written in them, and when a customer showed up, they'd reach into a Duane Reade bag and pull out a blank Hallmark card and copy a message from their notebook into the card. I wonder if these guys keep their stripper gifts in a secret drawer at their desk at work so their poor wives don't find them.

These boys have been struck by Stupid's Arrow! And I ain't complainin'...

Not sequitur

The following songs will always remind me of work:






I really miss my stripper buddy Sheila I used to talk about from my old club. In the raid, we all scattered, and I think she left the country for school, and I genuinely miss having a buddy at work. And I also just missing having her around as an unlikely friend.

My prof gave me an A on the paper I posted (segments of) below... She also gave me a hug when I saw her the other day, and told me I lead "such an interesting life." Ego massage, a guilt free party!

Never drink 3 glasses of Metamucil for the first time on the day before a shi(f)t at work.

Does anyone else find the "Call me Mr. Flintstone, I can make your bed rock" song at once an insult to the world of music and utterly catchy?