I’m not sure I know how to start this week’s series of stories. A lot happened at Da Club this weekend.

For instance, my daughter has been officially (and involuntarily) introduced to da club life, and she’s PISSED.

I made an enemy without trying at all.

And something incredibly sad happened.

All on the same night!

We’ll get to all of these stories eventually, but I think I’ll start with a funny one:

The guy who bailed on our date last weekend at the very last minute contacted me again, full of apologies and regret. On Saturday, I let him make things up to me by taking me to brunch, ax throwing at Urban Axes, and then a little shopping for vintage stripper shoes at New Bohemia, a fantastic shop on Airport Drive that my badass friend Jane Clarke is involved with. 

At one point, the boi briefly considered grabbing a buddy and coming by the club for quick lap dance. He texted his friend:

“Hey, man! Wanna go to a strip club tonight for like, 30 minutes?”

His friend texted back, “Heck, no. I’m going to Disneyland with the wife and kid tomorrow. I can’t go smelling like Summer’s Eve!”

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. What a douche 😀

I asked him what happened last weekend, why he bailed on me at the last minute. He said he had been receiving advice from his friends not to date a stripper. He had let his friends’ opinions overcome his better judgement.

When I first started dancing, I wondered if this job, which often carries a stigma in more polite circles of society, would affect my personal life. I now know the answer is yes.

Some people don’t want to date strippers because we are often stereotyped as crazy, damaged sluts. Other people want to date us because we are often stereotyped as crazy, damaged sluts. Either way, I wonder how often the actual person gets lost or overlooked in the midst of all the stereotyping.

It’s unclear how well this relationship will go for me in the long run, but at the very least, you will probably get some great stories out of it!