Tales from Da Club #52

Last Saturday, business at the club was so dismal that even Arwyn the Fierce Celtic Warrior was in tears.

“I’ve been turned down for every single dance I’ve asked for!” she informed me, eyes sparkling with liquid anger. “Every. Single. One!”

This is truly a tragedy, as Arwyn has been dancing for 15 years and no one gives a better lap dance than she does. First, she pens you to your seat like a defeated wrestler on a mat, although in this scenario, you definitely feel like you are winning. Then, she shoves her huge breasts in your face so hard that you risk taking a nipple up the nose. Then, she licks your ear. Verrrrrry sloooooowly. Sigh. It’s delicious.

In fact, business is so dismal at the club that the only ones making money are the actual sex workers. You can tell who they are because they are the ones crying in the dressing room while counting out the hundreds of dollars they made as opposed to the thousands they are used to making.

The most disturbing part of all this is that almost every sex worker appears to be pimped out. I’m not only referencing the poor trafficked Cubans, whom I’ve mentioned before. I’m also talking about the white, blonde American women, whom one would assume are operating of their own volition via the privilege of their race and country of origin. I don’t think they are, though.

I can tell because they are the ones constantly on the phones in the dressing rooms, trying to justify to their “boyfriends” why they haven’t made as much money that night.

“There’s just not that many people here tonight,” they say. “Come in and see for yourself! Business is slow . . . well, maybe YOU should try getting a job! . . . I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

When these particular dancers leave the club, they are picked up by huge trucks or flashy cars, another sign of having a pimp. Pimps rarely allow their “hoes” the freedom of driving themselves around.

I used to question how smart, strong, beautiful women allowed themselves to stay in abusive relationships, but after experiencing one for myself two years ago, I understand how loving a cruel man creates a psychological trap more addictive than a drug. He probably could have pimped me out as well had the thought occurred to him. I am only free today because he discarded me the same way one discards gum off the bottom of ones shoes, but in hindsight, I consider myself one of the lucky ones.

I don’t question these kinds of relationships any more. Nor do I pity the women in them. I simply maintain a strong hope that one day they’ll find the almost superhuman strength and courage necessary to break free.

Here’s an interesting twist about abusive relationships, though: They are incredibly common, and no one is immune. If we weren’t raised having healthy relationships modeled for us (and let’s be honest: most of us weren’t), we are at risk of being abusers ourselves, even if unwittingly. We often speak of abusive relationships in terms of men violating women, but in truth, women can be just as abusive and manipulative. This isn’t a gender based problem. It affects us all.

I don’t often use these tales to shed light on social issues, preferring to simply entertain, BUT SERIOUSLY, YOU GUYS! This is a THING. So forgive me this soapbox, but my growing awareness of the pervasiveness of abuse in relationships has been shocking. Please educate yourselves on the signs and if you’re being abusive or being abused, PLEASE GET HELP!

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