The majority of the girls who I work with are half my age. They are clueless when it comes to the art of the dance, meaning they just show EVERYTHING, there is no covering up their bodies, they leave little to the imagination.
They come into the club either dressed really cute or like they just got out of bed, baggy clothes and house shoes. No lie. But they all come out of the dressing room looking like they all went to the same junior college elective Stripper 101 class.
They wear high heeled platforms, usually a minimum of 5 inches high. The newest trend is wearing a tiny g-string with fishnets over that that you pull all the way up to your waist and then over those fishnets you wear another g-string with a bra or a tiny one piece thing Swimsuit or negligee type thing.
They don’t wear anything over their stripper gear. It’s just them in their stripper gear walking around and to me, what’s really gross, is that they sit bare assed on the damn bar stools or booths! It’s like damn near the equivalent of sitting bare assed on a public toilet!! Eeeew. Just, eeeew.
You have NO IDEA what could be on the damn chair or booths. Let alone the pole that the girls writhe, straddle, hang upside down from. If you’re hanging upside down from a pole, you KNOW there’s nothing a but a little bit of fabric protecting your Vagine from that pole where A LOT of other Vagines have been. It’s like double dipping into a strangers ranch dressing. You just don’t do it.
And you don’t want to know about what Security saw when we turned on the black light in VIP. You. Don’t. Want. To. Know. Let’s just say you wouldn’t ever want to sit bare assed there ever again, or even casually place your hand down.
If nothing else, that’s a good enough reason to wear something over your g-string. To protect from bacteria et.al. But more than that, I don’t see the point in walking around with all your wares on display for everyone to see. You go on stage and what do you have to play with? To “tease” if you will? You know it is called a strip tease for a reason, right? When you girls wear a thong, bra, garters, and heels, and that is all, what all is there for you to DO on stage or even when giving a table dance?
Back in the day, you wore a little skirt with a top, or a dress. It could be a super slutty dress that barely covers your ass, or one of a typical mini skirt length. But the point being that you are, to a certain extent, covered up. So when you are on stage or giving a table dance, you have a little something to play with. You can bend over a tad and reveal the underside of your taut ass, hike up that skirt a little and shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it. You can slowly unbutton your blouse and build up to removing it completely. And if you’re on stage and no one is tipping you? Keep your damn clothes on! You want to see the goods? Pay for them.
These girls, while charming and fun, have no sense! If I was a man, I’d appreciate seeing it all before me, the girls youthful bodies, so resplendent and nubile. But why would I be inclined to give you money on stage and/or for a table dance when you’re already showing me everything? Granted, some girls would be more motivated to get closer with the promise of cash, but other girls, if they’re drunk or high enough, they’ll be in a man’s lap anyway, that sweet little ass in his lap, beguiling him so he will want more, enough to get dances in the somewhat privacy of the lap dance area or even better, a private booth in VIP, where the lights are low and so are the standards.
But I realize that although they love hearing my stories of what used to be, they only care about what is. They are living in an age of instant gratification and satisfaction. Where one can become famous not because of their character, merit, or even talent, but sometimes just because of the lack of it. In a society that rewards you for being classless, uncouth, ghetto, trifling, ratchet (the Cash Me Outside girl, the success of Kim K., catapulted by a sex tape, the Amber Rose/Blac Chyna/IG girls), where many peoples sense of self worth and validation comes from how many followers, likes, and comments they receive, is it any wonder that the younger generation, the “millennials,” have a short attention span and aren’t much interested in what came before but rather what will be? And there is nothing wrong with forward thinking, not living in the past. But I feel like there was something truly valuable learned by being forced to wait for something.
Like if someone called you and you weren’t home. They left a message. On an answering machine. Or if they didn’t then all you’d know about that missed call was a hang up sound on the machine. There was no caller ID or star 69. Not at first. And what about music? If there was a song you liked on the radio, you’d have to either go buy the entire album for that ONE song, or get a blank tape and wait, and wait, and wait, for the DJ to stop talking so you could record it from the radio. Or what about the mixed tape? Remember making a mixed tape from CD’s? And Sky pagers? Beepers? The beginning of texting – sending 431 (four letters, three words, one meaning: I love you), 07734 (hello upside down), 1134 2 09 (go to hell upside down), 14 (hi), 911 (call me now)!
There was something about having to work for and/or wait for things that made you appreciate them when you finally got them. Now I want a song and don’t know the name I can Shazam it and buy it or stream it for free in seconds. Instead of setting my VCR to record HOURS of TV just for that one Southpark episode, I can know record several shows simultaneously on my DVR, or better yet, fuck the DVR, I can just stream that shit for free with my BeastBox or Fire stick.
It’s all different now. And with the new technology and new mindset of millennials come a lot of cool things. But sometimes I yearn for life before the cellphone and social media. When people would call, not text. When you’d eagerly rush to one hour photo, so excited and eager to see how your pictures turned out.
It was like unwrapping a present. The anticipation, the build up, taking the pictures, then driving to the photo lab, then waiting for them to be developed and being slightly mortified/embarrassed that the photo guy was totally checking out those scandalous but fun pictures you and your friends took.
Waiting for the music, the messages, the TV shows, the photos to be developed, all of that built up anticipation and developed patience. Kind of like a strip tease, waiting for the big reveal is almost as good as the build up. Some would even argue it’s better.
But in this day and age, it’s instant everything, 24/7, 365. And that can be good, bad, and all things in between. Life. It is what it is and what will be will be.