Ok folks, here's my deal. Somehow, I have managed to date three strippers. The kicker is I've never once been to a strip club - ever. The first girl I met at the grocery store, the other was interning for one of my clients, and the third (my current girl friend) I met at a strategic communications conference I was hosting. She was sitting in the lobby of the hotel waiting for her lunch reservations when I struck up a convo with her.
I know most men would love to date a dancer for whatever reason my be important to them at the time, but I could really care less. I have zero morality issues with the industry, but I simply refuse to pay for something that a) I can't have, and b) I can get for free. I'm not the best looking guy in the world, but I'm ok looking, dress well, and make very good money. Hence, if I want to be with a beautiful sexy woman, I just go get one.
My first two relationships with dancers were pretty casual. One lasted three months, and the other almost 8 months. I never once asked them about their jobs or regulars, but both of them were very forthcoming with details. Details such as (wait for it... wait for it...) what "other" girls do that they would never do in a million years because they're good girls.
No offense, but if part of your job description is to wax your vagina, you're not a traditional "good girl". Anyhoo, I'm pretty open minded, so I don't judge. But I also won't pretend that there's no *perceived* social moral difference between a girl who works to cure cancer and a girl who grinds on stranger's cocks 8 hours per day.
Social perceptions and puritanical morality notwithstanding, I have found myself in a real relationship with a dancer. I love her, she loves me, and we get along famously. But one thing that is starting to really, really get on my nerves is when she talks about work. It's like she keeps trying to justify it to me even thought I've never questioned her. What bothers me the most is that sometimes I think she thinks I'm stupid; I mean, come on, there's a big difference between what a girl does in VIP and what a girl tells her boyfriend she does in VIP.
Again, the kicker is, I don't freaking ask, because I refuse to put her in a situation where she'll lie to me. I'd rather not know, and I'd rather not think about it. Plus, she's one of those girls who acts like she hates her job when I know she doesn't. You should see the smirk on her face when she brags about milking some fat ass perv out of his cash - and the girl just loves being naked and being the center of attention.
More power to her - I have no problem with it.
So there's the background. I guess my question is two fold:
1. How do I get this girls to STOP talking about work? I don't give a rat's ass how much she made, who her regulars are, etc. I care even less about how many men just love to see her in the outfit she bought last week. I don't care, and I don't want to know. By the way, I have looked this girl dead straight in her god given eyeball and told her at least twice "I do not want you to talk about work. Ever." And she just won't stop. I don't give a damn what anybody says, there's not ONE man on this planet worth a damn who gets off on the thought of his girl being handled and looked at by a bunch of strangers. A man worth a damn might tolerate it, hell, even support it, but he'll never get off on it.
2. How do I convey to her that even though I've never been in a club, I know that a dancer can rarely get regulars and never keep them unless there is a little extra mileage (even if that mileage doesn't break the law or go too far overboard). Any man who will drop $300 plus a bottle of bubbly on my girl every freaking Tuesday of the world is getting a little more than the air dances she swears she's doing. Why does this girl think I'm a moron? I run the marketing division of a Fortune 500 company in international markets, I've been with far more than my fair share of women, I know she is very "adventurous and sexually open", and I know the minute - love or not - that a better looking man with more money and better game comes along, she'll be off in a flash; not because she's a dancer, but because she's a woman!
I need feedback from dancers on how to deal with this girl, or I'm going to pass her off to be some other man's problem. I love the woman, but Jesus H. Christ she has to stop giving me daily reminders that she grinds cock for a living and thinks I'm a dumbass.
*** This rant of a question was brought to you in part by the text message "I love you, baby! On stage next and it's cold as fuck in here. Wish me luck!"


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