I’m having a pretty hard time lately with dealing with the job. I don’t know if this is a short low point or if I’ve really had it. Please don’t just tell me to quit since I can’t handle it, I’m not writing for advice, just to unload and compare experiences.
I guess it wasn’t easy right from the start, but in the beginning there was the new money and excitment as a distraction. But nowadays, when the dance is over, there’s a lot of pain, and it lasts long after the music stops. It’s not that I cry in my car on the way home or something; actually, since I started this job I havn’t been able to cry at all. Someone very special to me died a couple months ago, and even though I was terribly sad, not a single tear came to me. Aside from getting the news, I didn’t even speak of the death at all to anyone. So I know I’m sitting on a lot of sadness, and other feelings too, that can’t come through any more because I need to build so many walls to do this.
In the beginning I liked the darkness of the club, the smoke, and the red and black lights that obscured everything and made it easier to take it off. Now I feel like the darkenss is so symbolic, like the red lights shroud the evil around me. I can see it, the evil, so clearly now that I know where to look. Sometimes at my lowest points at work, I feel like this is what hell must be like: the evil people feel right at home, the drug pushers, liquor peddlers, the whores. Men seeking a stage to commit crimes without punishment find their lair in the strip club, to say the things they could otherwise not say, to do the things they otherwise could not do. Where else can a man assault a woman, or violently grab her breast and crotch, or penetrate a digit, or all of this at once, and fear no punishment?
I feel so dirty all the time, I can’t wash my body or my bedding enough. I was douching so much to get the clean feeling that it caused an irritation in my vagina and so now I can’t do it any more and I just never feel clean.
This weekend while I was with my boyfriend and we were having sex I suddenly felt so revolted that I had to concentrate so hard not to vomit, it was like having the worst flu I’ve ever had. And I didn’t, no, I couldn’t -- ask him to stop because it seems the correct order of things is that a man’s pleasure comes at my expense. And this guy is not a bad person, he’s a considerate lover.
I feel like such a demented person, like when he touches me and I flinch, or he says he wants to have sex and I’m like ‘sure he just wants to fuck me, what the hell else am I good for anyway? its not like we can spend time together and NOT do something sexual, I mean, when was the last time THAT happened?’
And he’s all like ‘why didn’t you come’ or whatever, and I just want to say ‘because emotionally I gave everything I have to my customers this week and theres nothing left for you, even a faker orgasm is too much for me to put on at this point, so sorry bout that and if you don’t mind then please don’t touch me right now since it makes me want to hurl’. But I can’t be honest to him, just like the men from work, because the truth is no fun, is it?
Well this is where I’m at this week. Any one else care to share?


Reply With Quote






Bookmarks