The stripper from last night: So you're dancing on the stage (or trying to), and a guy brings you a dollar. You bend down to take it, and he touches - or otherwise does something to make you think he's going to touch - your pussy. Welcome to the job. I realize that you're brand new to the business, so I suppose that you can call that Lesson One. You're on a stage, dancing for strange men, practically naked. You dance up close and personal for said strangers, shaking all the good stuff in their faces. It's an imperfect world sweetie. They're going to go as far as you let them. So when someone touches you, or does something that makes you think you're going to be touched, there are a number of ways to handle this that WON'T lead up to the bullshit scene you caused last night. Let's review, shall we?
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1. TELL HIM not to touch you. Most of them are going to try to push their limits. They want to know what's allowed. If you don't tell them ahead of time (or when you're on stage, where the no-touching rule is just implied), then they'll go exploring on their own. There are some very dirty girls out there who allow strange men to do all sorts of things to them for their measley lap dance money. Guys want to know if you're this kind of girl. Nine times out of ten, they'll stop crossing the line when you draw one. OPEN YOUR MOUTH and tell them that it's not allowed.
2. You're pissed? Fair enough. In fairness, guys really should know better. Especially when you're on stage (even though I don't believe for a second that this guy actually touched your pussy while you were on stage). I've been in your shoes, really I have. He bothered you and you were pissed, and it was inconvenient to get a bouncer since you were on the stage. Plus, can't stress it enough, you were pissed. Hit him! Push him. Kick him. Smack him in the face. It's your body so...do what you must. You may or may not get in trouble for this. You may or may not get fired for this. You may or may not get hit back by the guy you hit...but there are bouncers for that, so do what you gotta do.
3. Walk away.
4. Tell a bouncer. He's not just there to break up fights. He's there to get rid of trouble-makers. Trouble-makers are people who touch our pussies. He's there FOR YOU. Take advantage.
5. Be nice to him, offer him a dance, and fart in his face...OR...
6. Can't muster one up? Let him buy you a drink, "accidentally" spill it on him, and call it a day.
See? There are so many ways that we can handle these little incidents. Here's a short list of what not to do:
1. Don't bring your boyfriend to work with you. There's a reason that there's a whole rule dedicated to this. Boyfriends can be jealous/over-protective (but you know that now, don't you? Should we call this Lesson Two?). Nobody wants to watch their girlfriend dance all over strange men. You don't need him for protection. WE HAVE BOUNCERS. Leave the man at home.
2. When you neglect rule #1 and you bring your jealous boyfriend to work with you, and then you encounter a guy doing something that makes you uncomfortable/defensive, don't run to your boyfriend to tell him about it. GO TO THE BOUNCER. By the way, have you SEEN our bouncer? He's like 6'5, 390, and pretty damn intimidating. He can handle your problems. Leave the boyfriend out of it.
But no, not you. Your pussy is made of gold. You are not subject to the shit that the rest of us must put up with by choosing to do what we do. You can't handle the issue on your own. The security provided to you by the club is not good enough for you. You MUST bring the boyfriend, and you MUST cause a scene. So you trot over to your scrawny boyfriend, and you tell him what has happened. Totally impartial and level-headed guy that he is, he picks up his beer bottle, walks over to the guy who allegedly touched you, and smashes it on his head. I see a fight, and hear your dramatic ass screaming (a little bit like satan) about "you don't touch me you fucker"...all while your knight in shining armor gets his fucking face smashed in. Haha! You're a dumbass.
I see/hear the fight and go running to the dressing room. I, unlike you and your boyfriend, don't like violence. The last time I saw a fight in a strip club, people got shot. A front row seat wasn't a priority. So I ran. I tripped over my 6" heels about 8 times, so while running, I simply kicked them off and ran faster. Two minutes later, you come into the dressing room looking like you've been stabbed 42 times - minus the stab wounds. I don't think I've ever seen that much blood. Still, it wasn't your blood. You grabbed your bag and left while still wearing your stripper outfit. Classy.
Let me just say again that you're a dumbass. If you can't handle certain inevitablilities of the job you're doing, then find another job. No job is pleasant all the time, but this one can be particularly unpleasant at times. You have to either learn how to handle the situations that arise, or just quit. Under no circumstances should you make a fucking scene like you did last night.
To the boyfriend: YOU'RE a dumbass. And now, you're a dumbass with a broken face. Stay out of the fucking strip clubs please. Either trust your girlfriend to handle herself in a way that's fair to your relationship, or find another girlfriend. Meanwhile, hopefully you've learned a lesson or two as well. Lesson One: you never know who you're fucking with. That beer bottle didn't do a whole lot for ya, did it? You went at a guy who was sitting at a table with another guy who was definitely bigger and meaner than you, and a chick who...well, I wouldn't fuck with her. What did you REALLY think was going to happen? You were going to be the Beer Bottle Ranger, and save your fair stripper maiden? You thought his friends WEREN'T going to stomp on you? Even the chick got you!
I, being aware of the "you never know who you're fucking with rule", didn't stick around to see the whole thing. I did find out that the blood your girlfriend was covered with was yours. I did see that the three people who kicked your ass didn't have a scratch on them...except for the big guy who cut his hand to shit while he was breaking your face open. Even the guy who you hit with the bottle seemed perfectly fine. The whole thing really was pretty stupid, wasn't it?
PS - my shoes...the ones I kicked off when running to get out of the way of your stupidity...yeah. I guess that when you were being dragged out of the bar, you were bleeding pretty bad. You bled on my shoes...which are now in the garbage. You can send a new pair to me at the club. You know the address. Thanks.
To the guys: Don't touch the girls unless expressly invited to do so.
PS - Thanks for the money.