When I was about 8 years old I had an extremely vivid dream (nightmare?) where I was an adult and a stripper. I stepped into the dream while on stage dancing. I remember feeling the feathers from the outfit I was wearing, I remember a man leaning close to my cheek while I knelt down to relieve his money, and I could feel his hot whiskey breath on my neck. I remember feeling myself force a smile and a thank you as I twirled away. I could smell the smoke in the air and hear the clinking of glasses. I had never been around whiskey drinkers and hadn't even seen a movie that portrayed a strip club at that point. So, I think I was a stripper in a past life. In this life, the only thing that kept me from trying it was body dysmorphia in my 20s and the weird recollection of that dream. Looking back, at the time I would have considered it I was massively impressionable and addicted to everything...I don't think I would have walked out of that world alive. I love that the act of pole dancing has become so defiant and free. More empowerment. Less whiskey breath. Thank you for being so honest always. You've inspired this little past degenerate to drag out my old journals, organize and share them in a way that I always dreamed. ♥️
Holy shit was that a trip down memory lane for all the wrong reasons. In my darkest days of booze and blow I’d have likely seen you at Cheetah while on a business trip. Thinking I was all that and stoking all those self-consuming fires you write so honestly about.
I gave blood for cash. Stole from relatives for cash. Gave away copious amounts of cash to stripper scholarship funds (good cause in my opinion).
Thank for sharing your raw writing. Really evocative.
In my darkest days of booze and blow, I bet we would have had a blast while funding my three useless English degrees.... If not at the cost of a severe headache the next day!
I've never been a stripper, but I imagine it would be fun...for a while. Making your own money, dancing all night, and feeling wanted. But I also imagine it would leave me feeling sad. Sad for the men and their circumstances, sad for fellow strippers who wanted more out of life but felt stuck, and sad for myself. I imagine that I might begin to feel that the strip club was a microcosm of the world. You spoke of "the constant assurances that I was beautiful". For me, that would have been a drug in and of itself. I never felt beautiful as a young woman. And I know that having that would have been intoxicating. And hard for me to walk away from.
Most intoxicating element was the assurances of my beauty. Also prob my life’s biggest tragedy, getting my value so mixed up in something so temporary.
I was a stripper for 5 years, started the day after my 18th birthday cos I wanted to do it so badly. Never danced full nude...topless & gstring was as far as I got. I LOVED it. The money, the attention...but then, I was much more tolerant of men's bullshit and able to fake nice & sweet about it with the best of them. Gods, I coulda been an actress! There were nights I hated it, though...nights when I got so tired of tolerating men's hands on me and having to sweetly discourage them to try anything further, tired of the smell of arnica gel to keep my pale ass self from bruising too badly from crawling on the stage (sadly I never got into pole work...I always had zero upper body strength and was too intimidated and too proud to look dumb, and back in the late 90s, early 00s classes weren't a thing), tired of the late nights, the utter lack of any kind of "normal" schedule, tired of so much. But the money was so addicting. And there's nothing quite like the strip club dressing room camaraderie. Some days I still miss that shit. I quit for a man and I still regret that.
Btw, I stopped at the same point each time I attempted to read; the 50 year old man’s erecting. I turned 56 recently, and have sworn to never step foot in a strip club again lol
I always worried so much for you back then.
Shit, I still worry now - that's friendship for ya, I guess.
But stripping has always looked so, so hard to me. Impressive, yes, but mostly hard in every way fathomable.
...
It's sweet seeing our young faces up there. Love you.
Best friend of my life. Love you. Thank you for being there when it mattered most.
It looks so hard.
When I was about 8 years old I had an extremely vivid dream (nightmare?) where I was an adult and a stripper. I stepped into the dream while on stage dancing. I remember feeling the feathers from the outfit I was wearing, I remember a man leaning close to my cheek while I knelt down to relieve his money, and I could feel his hot whiskey breath on my neck. I remember feeling myself force a smile and a thank you as I twirled away. I could smell the smoke in the air and hear the clinking of glasses. I had never been around whiskey drinkers and hadn't even seen a movie that portrayed a strip club at that point. So, I think I was a stripper in a past life. In this life, the only thing that kept me from trying it was body dysmorphia in my 20s and the weird recollection of that dream. Looking back, at the time I would have considered it I was massively impressionable and addicted to everything...I don't think I would have walked out of that world alive. I love that the act of pole dancing has become so defiant and free. More empowerment. Less whiskey breath. Thank you for being so honest always. You've inspired this little past degenerate to drag out my old journals, organize and share them in a way that I always dreamed. ♥️
Beautiful writing, incredible story, and YES! Bring out the journals!!
Holy shit was that a trip down memory lane for all the wrong reasons. In my darkest days of booze and blow I’d have likely seen you at Cheetah while on a business trip. Thinking I was all that and stoking all those self-consuming fires you write so honestly about.
I gave blood for cash. Stole from relatives for cash. Gave away copious amounts of cash to stripper scholarship funds (good cause in my opinion).
Thank for sharing your raw writing. Really evocative.
In my darkest days of booze and blow, I bet we would have had a blast while funding my three useless English degrees.... If not at the cost of a severe headache the next day!
There’s no doubt 😎
Excellent writing. Gritty, real n raw. That's the best material we got. Keep it up.
Michael Mohr
"Sincere American Writing"
https://michaelmohr.substack.com/
Very encouraging words. Thank you for being here.
I've never been a stripper, but I imagine it would be fun...for a while. Making your own money, dancing all night, and feeling wanted. But I also imagine it would leave me feeling sad. Sad for the men and their circumstances, sad for fellow strippers who wanted more out of life but felt stuck, and sad for myself. I imagine that I might begin to feel that the strip club was a microcosm of the world. You spoke of "the constant assurances that I was beautiful". For me, that would have been a drug in and of itself. I never felt beautiful as a young woman. And I know that having that would have been intoxicating. And hard for me to walk away from.
Most intoxicating element was the assurances of my beauty. Also prob my life’s biggest tragedy, getting my value so mixed up in something so temporary.
I was a stripper for 5 years, started the day after my 18th birthday cos I wanted to do it so badly. Never danced full nude...topless & gstring was as far as I got. I LOVED it. The money, the attention...but then, I was much more tolerant of men's bullshit and able to fake nice & sweet about it with the best of them. Gods, I coulda been an actress! There were nights I hated it, though...nights when I got so tired of tolerating men's hands on me and having to sweetly discourage them to try anything further, tired of the smell of arnica gel to keep my pale ass self from bruising too badly from crawling on the stage (sadly I never got into pole work...I always had zero upper body strength and was too intimidated and too proud to look dumb, and back in the late 90s, early 00s classes weren't a thing), tired of the late nights, the utter lack of any kind of "normal" schedule, tired of so much. But the money was so addicting. And there's nothing quite like the strip club dressing room camaraderie. Some days I still miss that shit. I quit for a man and I still regret that.
Can relate to alllll of the above! I also started dancing the moment I turned 18.
I agree with Sean. And, if I may add: your writing is bold, vivid, and punches us in the gut.
Granny Audrey is still your guardian angel. <3
I appreciate you. 🙏
Your writing style is immersive like a good video game
That is an amazing compliment. Thank you.
Btw, I stopped at the same point each time I attempted to read; the 50 year old man’s erecting. I turned 56 recently, and have sworn to never step foot in a strip club again lol