Confessions of a stripper chapter 8 – Questioning
I’m pissed off.
My eyelashes aren’t sticking properly, my hair’s a mess and I feel fat.
Mainly though I’m pissed off with him. My boyfriend, the love of my life, the boy I live with.
We had an argument last night and it carried on until I came to work, in fact it’s still ongoing as he’s juts texted me,
“if you really don’t think I deserve you then you can fuck off”…. Lovely.
I’m trying to forget about it (which consists of drinking wine) and I start hustling for dances.
I get talking to a guy. Oh man he’s good looking. I never say this, I find most people who come into the club fairly repulsive but he’s really cute. Maybe I’m drunk?
He’s a 29 year old graphic designer from Edinburgh and has recently moved to the city. He’s been dragged in by his work mates for a ‘lads night out’. He tells me three girls have approached him for a dance. He refused to go but paid them £20 anyway. The girls are £20 up and don’t have to take their precious little panties down.
He tells me how he appreciates the dancers have to make a living so is happy to pay them but feels embarrassed going for a dance. Aww he’s sweet ain’t he?
We chat for ten minutes, his girlfriend cheated on him six months ago so he took the job here to start afresh. He seems genuinely nice. And hot. Oh god, I need to stop thinking that, but he is.
I wander off to the bar to buy another wine. My boyfriend has texted.
“I’m gonna stay out tonight, let u have some time alone. Don’t call me”…. Fuck him.
I do the rounds and make about £120, I keep looking over at the graphic designer. He’s watching me as I pretend to with flirt men and subsequently lead them for dances. Why do I feel weird that he’s watching me?
I go back over and we talk for longer. I notice how cute he is when he smiles, how polite is his when the waitress takes his order and how amazing he smells when I lean in.
Why am I thinking these things?!
He asks me how long I’ve worked here, blah blah and asks if I have a boyfriend. I always tell customers I don’t – it makes them think they might have a chance to be more than a punter and hence they’re more likely to spend money.
When I talk to men and I’m getting on with them I’ll tell them the truth as it won’t affect our short term relationship if they know I’m taken.
Why I am lying to this gorgeous man though? He talks about his ex girlfriend. How he tried to do everything to be the perfect partner but it was never enough. He took her to New York to propose (!) but found out she was cheating when he looked through her phone. He was calling to change a reservation he’d made for the restaurant that night and he found the seedy text messages to her boss.
I don’t have the heart to tell him my boyfriend (who he thinks doesn’t exist) couldn’t understand why I was mad when he stayed out all night at a house party and didn’t call me to let me know he was okay and not shagging another girl. ‘My phone battery died’. That old chestnut.
His parents came round the following afternoon but he was still at the party, I had to cover for him claiming he was at work. When he finally rolled in an hour later I had to spend the afternoon listening to them coo over how wonderful their precious little blue eyed boy is. I deserved a medal for not vomiting all over their smug little faces. He argued that I over reacted and I needed to ‘chill out’. I said he needed to move out.
The graphic designer looks upsets when he mentions his ex, I feel bad for asking about her. I know nothing about their relationship but I would give anything to be whisked away to New York and being told that the man of my dreams wants to spend the rest of his life with me. I guess he wasn’t the man of her dreams and that was why she cheated.
Oh he’s gorgeous.
He excuses himself and goes to the toilet. I check my phone, no texts from my boyfriend. I quickly check Facebook. His status reads ‘Anyone up for getting smashed tonight?’. How nice. I bet my new love wouldn’t talk like that, plus he’s probably got better English skills.
He comes back from the toilet and offers to buy me a drink, nothing else is happening in the club so I oblige and stay with him. His work mates are in the VIP lounge, they could be hours. He admires how I can do this job, talk to so many men and still keep a smile on my face.
I drink my vodka quickly, he’s making me laugh and he finds me funny too. I tell him he’s good looking. Shit, I’m drunk, why did I say that?!
He blushes and says I must be kidding. How can I think he’s good looking?! He tells me he’s really flattered that someone like me could find him attractive.
He informs me that he thinks I’m charming and sweet and any boy would be lucky to be with me.
Really? Then why is the boy who I’m with not feel like that?
He asks for my number, maybe he could take me out? He suggests a restaurant that my boyfriend always promise to take me to but never has. We always ended up going to a bar so he could watch the match or meet up with his friends.
I decline, saying I can’t meet men outside the club (which I can’t). The conversation is getting weird – I shouldn’t be thinking about another man so I go to the changing room. I mess around with my hair, and look at my phone. He’s texted me, slightly drunk,
“I’ll stay out 2night, ur obviously not bthad about me and ur making me feel that way too”.
How come I have a beautiful man in the club, willing to take me out for a wonderful meal (other men offer too, but it doesn’t mean anything as they’re 60 year old married weirdos) and I have a boyfriend at home who treats me like shit?
I question this a lot with the other girls who are in the same position. Okay, some (most) men are bullshitters but rarely you know what they say is s true, and in this case it is.
It seems strange that I put up with my boyfriend at times, the drunken childish boy who takes me for granted when I could be with someone who I know would appreciate me.
I go back out on the floor and try to ignore my thoughts.
Then graphic designer is at the bar,
“I was waiting for you Lottie, my friends want to leave. Are you sure I can’t have your number, maybe go out for that meal or just drinks?”
I look at him, his handsome face and wonderful well dressed body. ‘I’m sorry. I lied, I have a boyfriend – I don’t know why I didn’t tell you…I just thought’. ‘Don’t worry’, he laughs, ‘I guess you have to tell customers you don’t. That’s a shame though, I would have loved to see you again. Whoever your partner is, he’s a lucky guy – I hope he appreciates you and treats you like a princess’. He smiles at me, kisses me on the cheeks and walks out.
I’m speechless, whilst I don’t deserve to be treated like a princess, I shouldn’t be taken for a mug. I go to the office and ask to leave, reluctantly my manager lets me go so I pay my fees and call a taxi.
Another text from my boyfriend.
“I’m sry, I really am. I love so much and shouldn’t be nasty to u. I’m lucky to have u and want u to know that, love u loadsssss”.
Too little too late maybe?
I get in and there he is. He had stayed in with a bottle of whisky instead of going out. He was surrounded by magazines,
“I was trying to find that Mulberry bag you wanted so I could order it online for you to say sorry”.
The silly bugger, he should know I alway rip magazines up and put them in my ‘wish list book’ in my bedside table.
‘I’m sorry, I honestly am’. He’s been crying (he never cries). I believe him, maybe I am a mug and I deserve better, but right now he’s the only one I want. I’ve already forgotten about the graphic designer. My boyfriend is who I want – maybe I should tell him more. It’s not only me who needs reassurance.
I sit with him on the sofa until he falls asleep, loudly snoring.
The next day we go into town and he buys me the bag.