Last night I asked a guy VERY nicely if he'd like a dance. It was packed starting at 11, so there was no incentive to spend 5 or 10 minutes trying to get someone to get a dance when you can just move on to one of the 200 other guys and get a yes in under a minute. When it's wall to wall people, my dance hustle is to make sure they see me coming, lean in close, touch them (like a hand on their thigh or wrist), ask how they are, ask their name, and ask for a dance. It takes 30 seconds, tops. I play the numbers game. I guess this guy was REALLY offended by being asked if he'd like a dance without kissing his ass for 10 minutes. SORRY DUDE. I CAN JUST MOVE ONTO THE NEXT ONE AND MAKE MY MONEY.
The guy looks at me and snidely says "You're not my type. Sorry". This kid must have been 18 and he had a crustache! He was showing off for his friends. I snapped back "Well, you're no fucking Prince Charming".
I usually am not nasty to customers, but it makes me so pissed that guys who have to pay for the attention of women feel entitled to insult us. He could have said "No thanks" and that would have been the end of that.
SUCK MAH BALLS CAPTAIN CRUSTACHE.



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