date???

I went on a date last night… at this point I’m pausing staring at the computer screen debating what to say. First dates are always strange. Dating is weird. People are weird… then throw in STRIPPER and it just adds another curve.

I met him in the bar the other night, and although I really ought to know better I am trying to be open-minded. If I expect people (however foolish) to not judge me as the stripper, I ought not to judge men as the perverted customer. Unfortunately I have his friend’s money in my wallet, and the “boys night out” is not an isolated occurrence. I don’t know that I’m willing to play that. I don’t know that I could date someone who hangs out in strip clubs, or whose friends are addicted to peelers.

There’s nothing wrong with him (at least not yet). He’s sweet, respectful, cute, and fun, not offensive at all. I actually really enjoyed myself. However I find myself lacking in ambition to bother. I don’t want to explain myself everyday. I don't know that I have the energy to attempt to convey the emotional damage and disillusion. I don’t want to explain my job, especially knowing that it’s probably pointless. I’m almost at the point I would rather date a Peeler Pounder because at least they get it. I would rather be with someone who understands, it's just a job. They understand that we are all different people. We all have dreams and fears, regardless of addictions, relationships, or ambitions. I am NOT smart for a stripper. I am an intelligent woman. That has no relevance to, or influence on, my occupation.

I don’t want to deal with his friends asking “did you fuck the stripper?” I don’t want to have to prove myself. I already know I’m not perfect. I already know dating me is nearly impossible. I don’t want to subject myself to the judgment, the assumptions, or the bullshit. I'm scared no matter who I date I will just be used and discarded. I don’t want to stare at the ceiling wondering if he is a good guy, or if he just wants to fuck the fantasy. I don’t want to be fooled.

I’m a junkie. I’m a whore. That’s what you always call me.
I’m raw, an open sore. I ache to remind me.
I’m a weakling, you are strong. Pick me up from where I lay
Here on a stolen sidewalk baby don’t make me beg.


If I worked in a bank no one would assume I was a junkie or a whore.
But I don’t... and people will assume...

I guess we'll see. I'm undecided...