Conversations with a stripper.
Chanel sits down next to me and puts her hand on my leg. I know what she wants. She has no idea what I want. She's french. Her accent is thick. Me no likey. "Mans tinks about sex every eleven seconds. I'm really smart, eh?" No. "What are you thinking about now?" she asks. I don't remember my answer but I'm sure it was vague. "You're looking at her breasts, aren't you?" "Um, yeah." I lie. She had no idea I was more interested in studying the strippers moves than her curves.
I was doing research to see if stripping was actually something I could do. The first and last time I went to a strip club I had to leave because I could not stop laughing. I kept thinking about the girls falling in those ridiculously high shoes. And the one who wrapped her legs behind her head and bounced her ass in the air became my object of ridicule for quite some time.
Chanel flat out says "You're not going to buy a dance are you?" I say no, she gets up and moves on to the next guy.
I'm there with a friend of mine. It's his birthday. He's always been a socially awkward human being. A nerd if you will. He's in my family and I've known him since I was born. We grew up across the street from each other and my mother is his Godmother. I may be his only friend. We go out to dinner every week. Since I left Ottawa the first time he's been forced to make a life for himself without me. He joined a bible study group and became a regular at the local strip clubs. Fitting. My reasons for taking him there are two fold. The first is to do something he'd like for his birthday, and essentially get a glimpse into his world when I'm not around. The second is for research.
He tells me about Georgia, a stripper he calls his friend. She comes over and sits next to him and gives him a hug. He introduces us. She's sweet. She's more friendly to him than anyone has ever been. He has his arm around her and gives her a kiss on the cheek. I have never seen him like this. She asks him if he wants to go into the VIP lounge and he says maybe later. She leaves.
Tia asks if she can sit with us. She's cute. She's kind of fun to talk to. She seems real. I like that. We reject her dance and she takes it well. Good girl.
I wonder where these chicks get their crazy outfits.
Georgia finally comes back and takes him to the back room. I sit there by myself. Vulnerable. Watching the dancers. Studying their moves. There is less dancing than I would have expected. The strippers we see in movies always defend themselves by calling themselves dancers. I expected this was because they actually did some dancing. The ones I saw just stood there and swayed around and tried to be sexy. I don't know. I wasn't really impressed. When I strip, I intend to put on a show. That's just me.
Maude comes over. I think that's how you spell it. She pronounces it Mode. She's nice enough. She talks about how it's a slow night. (It's Tuesday). I reject her.
Bianca. I like Bianca. She's super bubbly. We get along fine. She says weeknights are generally busier than weekends. The reason for this is because there are many hotels on that street and all the business men in town on conferences usually arrive on Tuesday and have nothing to do so they go to the strip joint. She asks if she can liven up my night for me. I laugh and say no.
A quiet talker, whom my friend had warned me about, comes up to me, doesn't sit down, asks straight out if I want a dance. I say no, she leaves.
I saw August dance when I first came in. She sits next to me and points out that she saw me sitting there and that I had a friend with me. "He's in the back with Georgia." "Oh that's good." We talked about the girl on stage. She likes her boots but couldn't dance on them. She has to wear super tall heals so that she can reach the ceiling so that she has something to hold to otherwise she'd fall. I think back to my fantasy of the falling strippers many years ago. August thinks the girl on stage might be new because she's never seen her there before. August has been working there for three years. Maybe she doesn't recognize the new girl because August is used to working days. She says she still makes her money because the club is right in the heart of the business center where all the government buildings are. She gets the lunch crowd. That's cool. I reject her, but I feel bad about it. Weird how I almost felt like taking her (as well as Bianca and Tia) to the the back just so I could keep talking to her.
My friend comes back and is paying Georgia. He paid sixty dollars for three songs. He and Georgia talked about me. They talked about how she's a single mother who lives with her parents. Like me, she moved back home to get back on her feet.
It was really freaky seeing my awkward friend be so confidant at this joint. He was so sure of himself and dealt with the girls as if he were some stud. He's not like that at all in the real world.
I realized that a big part of these girls' job is to make men comfortable. You can try and be flirty and fake like Chanel but that won't get the men to buy a dance from you. Maybe it works for some guys but not for me. You can be direct like the quiet talker, but that approach is cold. It's the girls like Georgia, August, Bianca and Tia that I'm sure make the most money. My friend goes to Georgia because she talks to him, she listens to him. Something no one else in his life does. Those girls act genuinely interested in their patrons. They're approachable and personable. It was interesting to see all these different tactics and the reactions they got.
I walked out of that club believing that I could do this. If it's possible to weed out the weirdos, it could even be a good time, and I very well could learn something. If anything, it's a great social study. Their role is almost more of therapist than dancer or temptress. It's something I think I might like to explore.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
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4 comments:
ok. i'm glad you did a little investigating but now you should go visit the type of club that YOU are more likely to dance at.
oh PS i love this blog
ps me too. I want to go with you next time. you should make a show out of it.
apparently geisha were trained in the art of conversation, for that very thing, to keep men entertained, comfortable, and feeling important.
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