Strippr

My sex life isn’t as exciting and wonderful and sparkle-filled as my customers might imagine. It’s complex, and it’s messy, and I think if most of them knew, I couldn’t be coveted as a sexual object.

Here’s what’s difficult about working, literally, as a sex object. An object of desire. A paid flirt. A compensated tease: It’s that it then becomes very difficult to understand how to have an honest sexual relationship with another person.

I’m really struggling with this lately.

There is someone that I have the desire to have a sexual relationship with, and yet, can barely bring myself to allow him to touch me.

It’s weird. I allow fifty or one hundred men per night to touch me, to caress me, to put their hands all over me, and it’s never more than work. I don’t feel sensitive about it. In fact, it’s almost as if it’s mundane, routine, generic. It’s a pre-packaged box of Hot Pockets individually packaged to the recipient’s taste, for all I care.

And yet, something about letting someone I love touch me is…hyper-personal, overly sensational, difficult. It brings me to tears, and I’m not sure why. My skin feels…feels like there are a million nerves in every square inch that is touched, or kissed. In an emotionally and physically difficult way. I just cry, and I don’t mean to, but it feels so right to cry.

I don’t understand it. The interaction with guys that just stop in is very superficial and fantasy-filled. The ongoing relationship with regulars is no more than that of good customers to any business—friendly, ordered, and understood to be somewhat minimalistic and based on money/service.

I think I’m becoming very disconnected from the idea of actually having sex, with someone that loves me, for the sole purpose of making love, and actually having to be mentally/emotionally present. I think that bringing myself back down to Earth to be a sexual person (not just a sexual, yet mostly untouchable, object) is getting to me. I think, when it comes down to it, I’ve never learned to be mentally present during sex.

I think that makes dancing easier and making love impossible sometimes.

I never said being a stripper was all roses and honeydew melons.

As promised, I had to break this into parts. And I thought my day today would fit perfectly with the “part two” of this topic.

As I said before, regulars are the bread-and-butter of the girls’ incomes at my clubs. Much of our income is gained from them. (http://strippr.tumblr.com/post/356021073/regulars-part-i)

Some women see their regulars outside of the club. In saying that, I’m covering the legal interactions of the dancers and clients outside of the club (not prostitution, which is illegal here). Prostitution outside of the club may or may not happen, but it isn’t spoken of, and the girls that I’m close to don’t turn tricks. I also do not participate in prostitution activities [yes, for real…I’m not saying it to cover my ass].

Now that I’ve explained the context of the interactions—because sometimes this stuff is confusing or foreign to those that don’t work in the industry—I can move on to what actually happens between regulars and dancers outside of the club…

Many of the dancers, including myself, arrange “dates” with their regulars. Typically, they get to know the regulars well inside of the club first, and then propose a meeting outside of the club. In my case, I stipulate that I will show up in my own car, at a public place (usually a restaurant), and also leave alone. For these “dates”, which is really just legal escorting, I charge a pretty penny. The customer must foot the bill at the restaurant or for any activities, pay half up front, and the other half afterward. I charge an hourly rate of about $150-$250, depending on the client and the amount of effort that I have to put into dressing up.

Some like to take me for coffee, or to a diner, or to somewhere simple. Others take me for grandiose dinners, sometimes including wine, sometimes including desserts. For me, it’s an experience I only very, very rarely have in my personal life—going out for a $200 dinner is way out of my friends’ and my budgets. I get to experience really interesting foods and wines and places that I might not otherwise be able to afford as a young twenty-something.

I think men enjoy doing this because they enjoy the company, and to them, it seems as though a restaurant setting is less forced and artificial. I think they see it as an extended effort or interest on my part. Remember, however, that I consider this to be “work”—fun work, but work, nonetheless. When I do escort, I take the night off of work, because I’ve already made my money for the day (or week). I’ve already, essentially, worked.

Sometimes men enjoy doing things for me, or bringing me gifts on these “dates”. For example…today, one of my regulars worked on my car for a few hours, and then we went for sushi. For him, sushi isn’t an experience he can have with his wife or children—they’re a very “Midwestern-foods” type of family with small children. I think he also very much enjoys the illusion of taking care of me. Of being a “sugar daddy”.

Essentially, these “dates” are an extention of the illusion, of the fantasy. I’m well-compensated, and I actually do have a good time most of the time.

Whelp, there you have it…part two. More later. Regulars are actually pretty complex.

I had a regular customer ask me an unintentionally (very) thoughtful question a few weeks ago.

The regular customer is a man of about sixty, who works for the railroad. He’s wickedly smart and ponders things quite a bit. Not terribly educated in the formal sense (hell if I care), but he reads incessantly and loves a lot of the same knowledge bits and thought-pieces that I do. I really have a fondness for this guy as an almost-friend, whose company I enjoy—let’s call him “Adam”.

So, his question to me was about why some girls seem to dance for twenty years, have a hard time leaving, or keep coming back to the club after trying to hold down another job. Why would anyone want to spend that many years being a stripper?!

I haven’t been dancing anywhere near that long. But from watching women that have been, I can speculate.

Believe it or not, I work with a few women who—and you’d never know it—barely completed the eighth grade, read an an elementary school level, or have no high school diploma. They have plenty of skills of their own, and are fantastic saleswomen, hard workers, and sound employees. But applying for any job without any high school experience (or diploma, or GED), is a very, very humiliating task, and one that would likely be unsuccessful and unprofitable.

Or, it gets easy to feel comfortable with the lack of effort it takes. A lot of what I do involves chatting with customers or other girls, drinking, smoking, eating, napping, and an occasional stage set. I spend 90% of the time I’m at work doing the same things I’d be doing at home or at the bar. And the money is…frankly, good. For being twenty-one, not yet having a degree (but working on it), having a little experience in many fields but not a lot of experience in anything that pays decently—the money is, um, really, really good (most days). I can see how it will be difficult for me to leave dancing, and take a 50%+ pay cut to work ten times as hard.

My schedule, right now, is awesome. I literally work whenever I feel like it. No schedules, no calling in, no requesting days off, no limit to “sick days” or time off, no hassle about not coming in, no calling ahead to go in…literally, I just either show up, or I don’t. If I work four days that week or if I work one day or no days that week, it matters not to management. When I do show up, I go in somewhere between six and ten p.m. Sundays, I get off work at two a.m, Monday and Tuesday at three a.m., and Wednesday through Saturday at four a.m. It’s very possible to work anywhere from 0-59 hours during the week (plus prep time), according to whim or wish. It will be difficult to go back to a job where attendance is mandatory, timeliness is expected, and sick leave is limited and barely tolerated. Working forty hours a week, at this point, seems excessive. I average about 22-28 hours/week.

Imagine not having to make up an excuse for being hungover, or oversleeping. Imagine no threat to your job if you show up three hours late, or not at all. Imagine not having to beg your boss to let you go home sick. Imagine not having to pretend another relative died in order to get vacation time. Imagine, if you can, a twenty-five hour typical workweek. Sounds like a pretty sweet job, huh?

Not to mention, I sleep as much as I need to. I set my alarm clock perhaps twice a month (usually for appointments with doctors, etc…things that take place in a day-centered world).

These are reasons that women stay. There are major lifestyle benefits to stripping, especially in a family that has young children, or for students, or for women that lack formal education or training.

Another reason is—and this is the question that “Adam” was alluding to—the attention is wonderful. After so many people telling me that I’m “beautiful”, “gorgeous”, “have nice xyz body part”, that I perform well, that I’m “sexy”, that I’m “smart”…the comments really started to boost my self-esteem. I think it’s incredibly easy to become addicted to feeling good about yourself. Wouldn’t it then be difficult to realize that, in some office, you’re just another co-worker? Another woman that men pass by and ask for copies of reports or documents? When the day comes that I leave dancing, I know that I will miss being a star, the center of attention. I honestly think that many, many women stay because they don’t know how to create their own self-esteem. I wonder very much whether I am slowly falling into that description.

Hm. Well, I sent an email to editors@tumblr.com, telling them that I ought to be included the the Sexuality directory on the site. They have a link on the directory pages if you’d like to be included, so I figured it was worth submitting. I hope they read their email.

Here’s a piece of the email that I sent:

“…I created the blog because I saw how little existed on the Internet regarding the actual lives, thoughts, feelings, and experiences of exotic dancers. I currently work as a stripper, and, judging from my clientele’s curiosity, I can see that the world I work in is speculated about by many, but known about by few. The world of dancing IS interesting: what other profession can say they have clients that enjoy being whipped, or that the employees can drink on the job (and it’s encouraged!), or that go into work clothed/then spend the rest of the evening taking off their clothes? It’s fascinating, the people I meet, the dancers at the club, the social heirarchy and politics between dancers, the things I experience.

It’s an awesome chance to watch sociological concepts at play, and experiment. 

I’m an articulate chick—I can actually write these things AND live them…”

So, there you have it. The reason for the blog’s creation. A purpose, if you must.

Regulars are the bread-and-butter, the milk and honey, of strippers. There’s no denying that having regulars is a sure ticket to making money, or that regulars are what put the food on my table every month.

I do make a significant portion of money off of strangers—especially on stage—but the largest portion of my earnings is actually from those that visit me at the club on a weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly basis.

It takes awhile to build a base of regulars. Some girls have as many as twenty or more, and rarely bother meeting strangers at all. Most girls at my club seem to have a regular clientele of about four to seven men that they know by name, that often give them money for private dances. The monetary value of these ‘regulars’ varies greatly…some spend $25, some spend $1000 or more.

So here’s the down-and-dirty, Q&A. I can’t think of a better format at five o’clock in the morning.

Why would a guy go to the strip club regularly? Or, why would he see the same girl?

I can’t answer for everyone, of course, and I’m not my own clients. But I spend a significant amount of time with these men, and I have some guesses as to the “why” questions.

I think some men really just need to talk to someone. For some, it seems like therapy; I see men that struggle with death, divorce, loss, bankruptcy, health problems, children, marriage, work stress, and more. I spend a lot of time listening. It’s a bit heartbreaking, at times, but it does make me feel as though my job is important. It makes me feel like I am a valuable outlet for that person.

For some men, it seems like they need an outlet for their sexual frustration. I don’t see this as being “pathetic”, like some of my non-dancing friends suggest. Rather…I see it as a part of being a human being. We’re all sexual people, yes, and that can build tension in a person, or in a relationship. For whatever reason—whether it be lack of a partner, or a difficult time in a relationship—some men need another outlet for their sexual selves. I view the sexual outlet part of my job as a part of taking care of another’s well-being.

Some see it as a thrill, yeah. Or a means to experiment with fetishes. I see fetishists occasionally, and by now, no fetish is too bizarre (I promise— and I’ll save the details for a later post, though. It’s altogether a separate topic). There are simply things that a guy may not be able to ask his significant other for: “Honey, can you whip me in the balls with this belt until I cry, and tell me what a pathetic loser I am?”, “Babe, do you think you could let me stare at your anus for a few minutes, to the tune of some techno music?”, “Hey—I have an idea. Let’s play slavemaster again.” Those things can be difficult to bring up, especially in very religious households, or for older/or more traditionally-brought-up men. But yet, I see fetishes, again, as a part of the sexual self that under consenting terms by both parties, and under legal and appropriate circumstances, must be cared for.

I see regulars that simply need to get out of the house and would rather not be a part of a party/bar scene. They enjoy my company, for whatever it is to them. We talk about books, movies, news, popular culture, our interests, other dancers, their families, our lives. We just…talk. Because it’s good to sometimes just have someone to escape to, someone that isn’t going to tell his wife, friends, boss, co-workers, kids, bar buddies, family, etc. That isn’t totally wrapped up in the day-to-day drama.

—-This turned into a longer post than was intended…so I’ll post it in parts, to be a little easier on time consumption and eyesight.

*I use “men” in this post because 96% of the clientele at my club are men.

Ecdysiast (ec-dys-i-ast):

n. A striptease artist.

n. (professional/business) A facitious word for stripper.

Coined by H.L. Mencken in 1940, from Latin ‘ecdysis’ (to molt).

Cite 1, 2

Oooh. I have a certain love-hate relationship with dressing-room drama…

I hate that there are so many catty bitches in the place; I love that I happen to be on the side that is usually praised for being right, or doing the right thing.

This is how the game is played:

“Drama” is fairly uncommon at my club. We have a tight-knit, core group of “house girls” (girls that rarely travel and call our club their main, or only, club, and work often). Some girls have worked there for ten or fifteen years, others come and go. It’s not easy to be accepted by these girls. Scrutiny of one’s work practices (I’ll get to that in a second) and interactions with other dancers seems to be very rigorous by the house girls.

The management is very unaware of most of the interactions that go on. They rely on video footage, the word of the bouncers, and “house moms” (the lovely women that take care of miscellaneous needs for us, like tampons, aspirin, food, and sewing). Needless to say, being on the good side of the house moms and the bouncers is practically imperative to keeping a job. In order to maintain good relationships with them, being on the good side of the dancers that have been around for several years is a necessity.

Pissing off house girls is very, very bad. The club I’m at, there are only a few things that a girl could really do to piss off another.

• Thou shalt not steal. Especially money, makeup, or clothes. No one locks things up there, because the girls are close and trust each other.
• Thou shalt not covet. “Steal” someone’s regular customer for private dances (our regulars keep food on the table).
• Thou shalt not bear false witness: talk shit, backstab, lie, or call names.
• Thou shalt not hit (kill) each other.
• Thou shalt not prostitute. That’s a pretty firm one at the club. Yeah, yeah, laws and all that stuff, too. But the real reason is that most girls can’t compete with a girl that gives blowjobs, when the rest of us don’t. We run off prostitutes in a hurry. Most people don’t realize that if one girl gets caught, ALL of us get our (real) names in the newspaper, photos, and jailed for at least 30 days. So. Prostitution in my club = a good ass-whoopin’. [Sidenote: I see nothing wrong with *legal* prositution, in the confines of a legal brothel with regulations and health precautions. My views on prostitution outside of the club are irrelavent, though; I’m talking about stuff inside the club.]

So. The down and dirty? Tonight was very, very drama-filled. I stayed out of it, but watched in excitement. It’s like watching a tornado…eye-popping magical horror and destruction.

One “ho” (we refer to girls that prostitute as “hos”, “whores”, or a variety of other slang terms [that almost qualifies as jargon, I think…]) tonight had her head checked for lice after the house mom found out from some girls and a bouncer that she’d been “ho-ing it up” (prostituting, fucking, giving a blowjob, whatever forbidden sexual act she did) and told the bouncers to check her.

Another girl was in tears because she lied to the manager about another girl—a house girl that has been there for ten years and has a lot of clout. The other girl bitched out the first one in front of several dancers, a house mom, and zero cameras.

I have a feeling the other two hos that are still there will be “run off” (bitched out, ripped to shreads by words, ganged up on in confrontation, etc—doesn’t necessarily involve hitting, and most first punches are thrown by non-house girls and new girls).

I’m fairly new to the club (by seven months), but I’ve earned some respect there, I think. I’ve likely earned enough by now to be considered a house girl. In saying that, I’m actually pretty pissed that we’ve still got whores inside the club (if you hadn’t guessed…).

Anyway, there’s a very small dose of the politics of stripping…it gets better. One of these days, I’ll write about it.

I get fairly offended when customers at the club don’t necessarily realize that I have a personal life. Believe it or not, some people get so, so into the fantasy that they forget I’m not mechanical.

I haven’t really posted much about my personal life, and after some of the rather surprised looks I got tonight at work [in mentioning a personal life], I figure it’s probably worth noting.

Things that my customers would never guess, never ask about, and rarely would care about:

• I’m studying Human Services and Chemical Dependency Counseling in college at the moment.
• I wish I never had to graduate from college, and that I could take all of the classes right now.
• My favorite bar is a little dive bar in a quirky, revamped-artsy-Victorian-era neighborhood, and my usual drink there is the 24oz Icehouse cans (it’s $3.50, and I like cheap booze).
• I love the Art Center and the Science Center exhibits, and I visit them fairly frequently to roam, daydream, and contemplate existence.
• I read a lot…probably too much. I don’t have cable, or any HDTV stuff, so there is no live television, only movies and videogames.
• I love memoirs, novels, and non-required texts for classes I don’t take; I’ve got an excellent Anthropology text sitting in my bathroom, in fact.
• I’m reading Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged at the moment.
• When I go out to eat, I most often crave sushi or Indian food, or greasy-spoon-diner food.
• I spend a lot of time playing word games. Scrabble, king.com’s Word Battle, any kind of crossword puzzles, and Wordster are some of my favorites. I love words. That’s an understatement…I’m actually madly in love, passionate, deeply amorous about words.
• I have a little Daschund puppy, Riley. He’s adorable as all hell, but kind of a pain in the ass. He chews the faces off of his toys. I love my weiner doggie :)
• I’ve been riding horses for fourteen years, and didn’t grow up on a farm. I compete in eventing (jumpers, dressage, and cross-country), and I buy horses for resale after training as investment projects.
• I stayed up all night and part of the next day recently because I became inexplicably interested in learning about pythons. I don’t want one and I don’t like snakes, but the Burmese and African Rock pythons are fascinating.
• National Geographic is the home page on my web browser. I’m a dork.
• I subscribe to two magazines in print: National Geographic, and Scientific American.
• My favorite shopping splurge is either somewhere in the grocery aisles, or is books, furniture, or horse supplies. I have a weird thing for buying furniture.
• I can never bring myself to actually get out and shop for clothing…
• My favorite music to listen to is by artists like the Velvet Underground, Tori Amos, Ani DiFranco, Vast, Portishead, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Silver Mount Zion, Frou Frou, …and lots of others.

Whelp. There you have it. I think I’ve proved I’m human…I wish more people would see that…

“I never see women stripping…as a function of choice. I always see it as a function of a lack of choice.”

-Nora Ramos, general legal counsel for Women Against Pornography

I’m not going to cover the sex slave trade, including pimps (micro) and international or domestic organized crime (macro). That’s forced labor/slavery, and isn’t the way that most dancers in the United States find their way into the industry.

Personally, I had a choice. I worked a decent job for an international banking corporation. I was also well-educated and had a variety of skills and experiences upon entering the job market; not all dancers have had the upper-middle-class opportunities that I have had.

I chose to leave finance and pursue stripping because of the money. Inherently, I’m lazy, like everyone else, and money is the motivating factor to work. I can do less work for more money at the club. A lot less work, and a lot more money.

I am guessing that all strippers have chosen to dance because of the money. It’s just a guess, a thought.

The reasons for wanting that money expose the question of choice vs. necessity. Kids and no opportunity to support them on minimum wage? Necessity. Drugs? Necessity. Massive student debt for a skill set that doesn’t pay those bills? Necessity. Lavish lifestyle? Choice.

Still, I argue that if a girl chooses to use her income wisely, she can invest in a future of more choices. Stripping offers the schedule flexibility and high part-time pay that would be benefitial for going to college or trade school with little student debt. If she chooses to invest her income in savings, money market accounts, IRAs, stocks, or other options, she can provide a secure income for her future.

I get pretty excited when I learn new pole tricks. It’s my workout, the thing I get to show off to the crowd, my billboard for myself and making money off of the stage, an accomplishment, a surge of adrenaline, and simply something different and new and fun.

Tonight, I taught myself a new pole trick. I wish I could find a video online, or a few videos (it’s more like a combination) to post, but it would be rather difficult. One of these days, I’ll get around to posting video.

I was sitting with a young couple, mostly talking to the woman. It was her first time in a strip club tonight. She was floored by the dancing (I know I was, my first time in a club, too). I hadn’t really explained to anyone in awhile what it takes to learn those pole tricks.

I guess it’s the new housewife hobby, learning pole tricks at dance studios. I’d love to have learned the art that way, step by step, in some sort of chronological order, but instead I just kind of got on the stage and experimented. I had a few girls teach me before work some of the basics of climbing, spinning, and flipping, over months.

The other difference is learning and doing these things in seven-inch stilletos…if I fall, the likelihood of breaking a bone in the foot, ankle, or lower leg is pretty good. It can be fairly dangerous. I’ve fallen off the poles a fair amount. 

I’m pretty proud of my ability to do pole tricks, actually. I feel like it’s a talent—most people I know can’t hang upside down by their ankles, or hold themselves upside-down with only the skin on and around their hip. For once, one time in my life, I feel like I’m good at something when I’m on the poles.

Tonight was filled with what we call the “Mickey Mouse Club”. It’s a slang term used in the club (I don’t know whether this is common in other clubs, or just mine) that refers to the club being filled with minors. [“Minors” being those over eighteen and under twenty-one; it’s legal to be in strip clubs at eighteen here.] It’s derogatory: it’s used when the crowd is young and not spending much money.

I feel as though writing about my being sick is relavent to a blog about stripping because of the major consequences it causes me. Let me elaborate.

I am uninsured—meaning, if I want to go to a doctor, I pay $80-180/visit and prescriptions. I am not insured because the club doesn’t provide it or any option of it, and I can’t afford to pay $300+ a month for decent, private comprehensive coverage.

I am ineligible for government programs that cover healthcare because I cannot prove my income on a regular basis (only through taxes can I prove it), and I make enough that the government considers that I likely do not have need. I currently have about $1,100 in unpaid medical bills. I work on them…slowly.

I am also not allowed to work while sick, and would feel utterly guilty if I did. Disease spreads very, very quickly in strip clubs—usually because of the customers, not the dancers. I constantly have hands all over me, and I’m nearly always close to customers’ faces. I’ve been sick enough to not work four times in six months, and taken a total of twenty-eight days off of work in six months.

We don’t have the privilege of sick pay or PTO (paid time off) days. If I don’t work, there is no income, period.

My job is quite physical, believe it or not. Pole tricks, stage sets, and private dances tone the body and expend enormous amounts of calories every night (hence why I eat McDonald’s on a regular basis). It is very difficult to slog though work with any soreness, stiffness, major bruising or sprains, or sickness.

Being sick sucks for everyone. But without benefits or the option to just suck it up and go to work, it causes financial difficulties for me.

So, I noticed that my breasts have gotten much bigger since I started dancing. The rest of my body hasn’t changed shape as much as it has gained muscle. Apparently, I’m not a phenomenon…many of the girls have noticed that same thing. I’ve gained about an entire cup size.

We speculated as to why. I haven’t looked up how true any of these possibilities might be—no jumping down my throat for speculation.

• I work in a full-touch club. My boobs get massaged several times each set on stage, and they’re touched/rubbed/massaged during private dances. Perhaps massage contributes to tissue growth.
• From pole tricks and new posture (in seven-inch heels), I’ve gained pectoral muscle. Perhaps this shoved the breast tissue forward.
• I eat more fat, because I burn more fat. But the rest of my body doesn’t seem to have gained any inches, only lost inches.

It’s just dressing-room talk. But worth noting and speculating about. We oftentimes discuss topics like this on slow nights, or before work.

There are a few questions I constantly get asked at work… I thought I’d share the “real” answers vs. the ones I give. I’ll settle this, once and for all.

I understand the curiosity in this creature who wears little clothing in front of crowds. I also get the same questions, over and over, and if someone could *please* come up with something more original one night, it would probably make my night.

Dancers evade the answers to these questions for a reason.

What are you doing after work? (This one is usually said by younger, cocky guys who think that they could plausibly take me home.)

I say: Wouldn’t you like to know? (Wink, laugh)

In reality: I go get McDonald’s because I’m ravenously hungry and actually need the fat and calories that their food gives. Or, once in awhile, some of my co-workers and I go to a 24-hour diner for breakfast. I stop for a pack of smokes, maybe a bit of soda. Once a week, I stop at Wal-Mart and get groceries. When I get home, I let my dog out of his kennel. I play videogames, brush my teeth, and fall into bed. The same types of things that everyone else does after work. It’s really not that exciting…I wonder why people want to know?

How much do you make?

I say: Enough. Or, It depends. Or, It pays the bills. (Insert change of topic here)

In reality: It does depend. I don’t get a paycheck; I’m an independent contractor. I pay house fees, fines, the DJs, the bouncers, and for every private dance that I do. I pay a tax rate of 15.3%. I buy my own clothes, makeup, and supplies. Before those things, I make about $70,000/year (I also work in the Midwest). After, I make about $45,000. Of course, my earnings depend on the economy, the weather, the particular persons I encounter, the other girls (how many and how good), my mood, the day of the week, the day of the month, the month of the year, whether I’m injured or bruised, etc. There are a lot of factors — and my earnings feasibly fall somewhere within a $1,000 range each month.

Don’t you hate dancing with the gross old men? (Again, usually said by cocky young guys)

I say: Nope. Everyone has something to offer me.

In reality: I can’t say I *love* every private dance I give. Some guys smell like feet, or have no rhythm, or expect too much. But the majority of dances that I do, I do enjoy in some way. If I get a really good dick to rub all over, sometimes I do get horny! It’s a dirty little secret, but it’s not uncommon. Sometimes I very simply enjoy that person’s company. I’ve had great dances with all kinds of men: overweight, balding, old, young, well-toned, stinky, aromatically pleasing, fetishists of so many kinds, and on and on. It might surprise people to learn that I most enjoy dances with men that can completely suspend reality and just get into it, that are polite, that are intelligent and well-intentioned, that I have had great conversation with. Age isn’t so much a factor, nor is weight, or much of anything else. It’s personality that I enjoy.

I’ll have to add more to this later…I’m off to get ready for work.