[Buckle up. This is a long one.]
Dear Anonymous Thief,
How could you?
Really, how could you? What exactly are the big plans you have for my BRAND-NEW fringed cowgirl bikini top that you swiped off the stage last night? ? Are you proud of yourself? That you pulled one over on the stupid stripper? Is it some kind of trophy to show off to your friends? I mean, after laughing and bragging about it, are you ever even going to LOOK at it again?
I know it probably looked cheap to you. Or maybe it didn't - maybe you could actually tell its value to me by the pride with which I wore my new outfit. The snakeskin hat, pigtails, humongous shoes, and brand-new chaps with an adorable top to match - maybe you could tell that I paid good money for these things, and that I had waited a long time to get the two-piece set over the internet. Maybe you could tell how excited I was to have gotten the chaps and top in time to wear for Halloween weekend, and how proud I was to be putting on great sets to carefully thought out music.
Which is worse, to do something like that oblivious to just how much it could upset me, or to do it knowing just how much it could upset me? After a financially horrid Friday, this is how the night ended. And it had to be my TOP. Why my top? Couldn't it have been my g-string instead, at least, which would have even more pervert appeal, as trophies go, wouldn't it? A g-string I can replace easily and cheaply. Why my special, brand-new, matching, adorable top?
Now, I'm one of the good ones. Really. Is this why you targeted me instead of one of the more jaded girls? Because I always smile onstage and dance my ass off, even if it is the last set of the night with only a few stragglers at the rail with their last few bucks. You must have been one of those stragglers. Did you even tip me before you stole from me? Did you? Did this make it even funnier to you?
I admit, I was tired - no, exhausted by the end of the night, and as you know, I was the last girl onstage. I agreed to go up, against the protests of my aching feet and knees and back, because I'm a team player, stupid me, and the DJ asked me so nicely & I knew he had been dealing with tantrums from other girls all night. Earlier in the night I had even considered cutting my losses and leaving early, since the feature was bringing no spenders in AND it was pouring rain for hours - but no, I stuck it out and kept a smile on my face. I performed. The show must go on.
So yes, I was tired and not completely 100% conscientious as I finished up, scooped up my paltry set earnings and my purse. Of course I thought I had my top with me as well, as I literally limped into the dressing room, but as soon as I went to sit down I realized it was missing. It's theoretically possible that another dancer snatched it up as it fell out of my hands or something - we've actually had a lot of thefts recently, including a cute red halter of mine - but she would have had to do it in the blink of an eye, right under my nose. Unlikely. I raced back out to the stage immediately. You might have even seen me do this, as some people were still straggling out. Did you enjoy that part? I'll bet you did.
If you knew that this would cause me to break down into humiliating sobs as I tore the dressing room apart and scoured the stage area and then the rest of the club, looking under every chair, in every corner, still topless but pathetically so, not proudly - makeup streaming down my face, nose running, hat hair bedraggled, for a good half an hour after the club closed, and that I was there until almost six in the morning, the situation becoming more and more futile - if you knew this, would this make your loot even better? Or would you just not care at all? How about if you knew that I'm tearing up just writing about it even now?
I'm 99.9 % sure you didn't buy any dances from me, and I'm also pretty sure that you didn't tip very much on stage, if at all, all night. It's bad enough to freeload from us, we can live with that and we're used to it, but to actually, literally STEAL from us? I know I'm giving you too much power to even allow myself to feel this way, but the most accurate way I can decribe my feelings is heartbroken.
You have no idea how much thought and care I put into my job. You have no consideration for how hard it is just to get out there at all, much less work at creating characters, learning pole tricks, learning fun little gimmicks to do stageside to please the crowd. Yes, it's about money, ultimately, but I could more or less stroll around bored onstage, model-style, staring off into space and still make the real money lapdancing.
Naive me, I still believe in showmanship, and in giving the audience a good time even if it's unappreciated. Even if someone shoves a dollar directly into my bare kitty (were you there to see this hours earlier in that same night? Did you enjoy that too?), I'll put my platform directly into his chest and push/kick him back & have him tossed, but I go on from there. I never take it out on the rest of the audience, just on the individual ingrate.
I'll get another top. Not one that matches as perfectly - it'll never be the same - but I'll find something. It's just a piece of clothing, right? I'll get over this. But I feel differently now, like some kind of innocence was lost last night. I don't even like wishing karma on anyone, but I do hope that someday you are at least aware of the consequences of your actions.
One more time: How could you?
Signed,
A very wilted Rose



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. I've lost articles of clothing, too. Once had a customer at a bachelor party steal one shoe. That's right, just one.



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