Ryann Reflections

A glimpse into the life of one anti-social stripper nerd.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

holy moment

My motivation is nonexistent as I survey the sparse crowd. It’s Thursday, and the customers are cheap and offensive tonight. Fighting a yawn I wander through the bar, smiling and doing my best to make a living. Middle aged and probably married a corporate shmuck catches my eye. I sigh quietly to myself and bat my eyelashes innocently. The conversation is shallow and scripted. He stares at tits while I attempt to manipulate the transaction. He’s drunk and mumbling “this is bad” as he hands his American Express to the bartender. “You’re so young, and I’m so old” he repeats, his hand sliding up the curve of my back. “This is bad.” He mumbles again. His drunken moral crisis is annoying and unoriginal. “Do you want a dance?” I interrupt, taking his hand and his money towards the VIP room. He continues to mumble and stumble through the bar, following me like a puppy. He’s probably not allowed in strip clubs, and is going to hear about it later. Maybe he just feels guilty. Maybe I don’t care.

The morality ceases the moment he sits down. “So can I lick and suck?” he asks me. My negative response prompts an argument. Apparently once the line is crossed in his mind anything goes. I’m not in the mood for this pathetic pouting so I dance. Distanced and careful I crawl above him, wary of his movements. I’m not fast enough. Within 15 seconds his hand reaches behind me, between my legs, and I jump. “Get the fuck off of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Pay me, and get the fuck out! Now!” The VIP is quiet for a moment as other girls pause to look. His head is lolled back on the couch, arrogant, and indignant. “Pay me and get the fuck out!!” Slowly he begins to understand the dance is over and is thankfully smart enough to pay me. Fucking drunken asshole! I’m sure he’s very happily married. Maybe he’ll go home, because his night here is over.

I’m angry. I don’t want to dance. I need to take 5 minutes to regroup and put myself back together into a sellable idea. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I run my hands through my hair and try to avoid looking at my eyes. Ugh! I want to go home, but I don’t.

Instead I apply a fresh layer of lip gloss and glide back into the darkness. The men watch me, or deliberately ignore me as I wander. Frustrated and cold I move through the room, searching for an income. He’s alone. Young and well dressed he catches my eye just enough to grab my attention. He looks harmless, and friendly. I need a friendly customer right now. With spontaneous impressions I fling myself into his lap, stealing his affection. I play. I flirt. I entice him. He’s lonely and seeking more than comfort in this room. He’s questioning salvation. I know what he needs.

I dance for him, and talk with him. Gentle and open, he needs me. He needs me to distract him, accept him, and guide him. I begin to gain an understanding of his quest, and his past. Fundamentalist, Christian, divorced, father, and struggling man. He’s my age. His foundation has been shaken and he’s searching for a new truth, a personal truth. The regulations and system of certainty no longer fit. There are too many questions. Is it wrong to question? Does faith have to be blind? Is sexuality evil? Are affairs forgivable? Does he actually have the right to condemn his wife? Why did she make the decisions she did? Who has the right to impose choice? If he doesn’t, if the church doesn’t, the questions are piling… what about love and sexuality? What about the love and attraction between two people regardless of gender. The uncertainty is multiplying. Is seeking solstice in the arms of a naked stranger a sin?

“Do you believe in God?” he asks me. The conversation is sobering, and essential. There are holy moments when paths cross and purpose is discovered. I didn’t want to be at work last night, but I needed to be there. He needed to meet me.

In a darkened room, surrounded by old couches and scripted fantasies we talked until the bar closed. I didn’t make my millions last night, but I made a difference. We spoke of faith, and dogma, of expectations and manipulations. We spoke of judgment and Love. We explored fear and acceptance, politics, freedoms, agendas, and choices.

Does God work in mysterious ways? A young man was starving for answers and acceptance last night. In a moment of desperate loneliness and necessity he sought companionship and escape in the darkness of the sex industry. He found a stripper to take the time to see his soul, and encourage his journey of growth and discovery. I was meant to be a stripper, and forces beyond my limited experience meant for me to be there last night, to interject a holy moment of humanity, passionate questioning, and loving acceptance into his life.

His journey to finding an individual faith and a personal relationship with God has begun. I have no doubt that 2007 will be a year of growth and discovery for this young man.

Labels: , , ,


  • At 7:05 PM, Blogger Semi-Celibate Man said…

    Hi Ryann. Interesting post, well written as always.

    I understand your experience, and have had a few of those meaningful conversation moments in a strip club myself. I remember one night when a stripper who knew I was a churchgoer and was having a soul-killing night and was questioning her occupation pulled me into a corner for a long talk about God. I was glad to be there for her that night, and passed the night without thought of lapdances.

    If I could generalize, there are a few rare moments when two people get beyond the transaction of "looking for an income" and wanting a "lick and suck" and are just nice to each other. They have an actual conversation, memorable in that artificial world.

  • At 10:57 PM, Blogger Gadzilla said…

    Your post kinda reminds me of a song, "Three wooden crosses" by Randy Travis. (and before I shove my foot in my mouth, the word whore is used in the song, but in no way, shape, or form would that be in any sort of reference to you or the industry you work in) :)

    I am truly glad there are people like you in the world that like to make a difference when you can. Even the slightest suggestion of hope for a person can make the world of difference.

    I am also glad that you didn't let that fucktard ruin your night.

  • At 3:01 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    It's your holy moment. Over the past few days my life has continually evolved into somehing more magical, special and dynamic again.
    You gave me hope, you gave me peace, you gave me such a gift of renewal in myself that I feel I am truly creating my existance now. You have inspired me to relize the greatness inside me and be all that I desire to be.
    You have amazing wisdom and your words were so full of life. So many times my questioning have brought me back to your word's "God has no genda." and some questions I have simply answered with the phrase."Does it matter?"
    I made a point to speak with my daughter to let her know how much Daddy love's her unconditionally. Alhough I always have, I felt a new freedom to express that in its purest form having experienced the shakles of religion, fear and expectations falling off. I needed her to know Dad has no agenda except to love her and I will always be there for her.
    I thought you were an angel. I couldn't find your blog the last few days and truly I thought that I was touched by God, a moment so holy never to be recorded. Now that I have found you and relived the moment through your eyes I now know for sure I was touched by God.
    Waiting for your return to Toronto.... Your holy moment


Post a Comment

<< Home