A Whorish Man, an Honorable Stripper

It seems almost cliche’ anymore, you hear it everywhere, but especially women, call each other a whore. I have read some other blogs, and articles on it, from ordinary and average, to outright feminist. It seems to have lost its power, and gained some panache’. What the feminists used to deride in men, they now wear like a badge. It was once only used to describe a prostitute, a woman who sold her sex for money, and money alone. No hellos, no goodbyes, no how-do-you-dos. You got what you paid for, and then you left, no babies, no relationship, you just got done and left with no headaches, though in the days before modern contagious disease medicine, you might have something else start to ache. The world’s oldest profession, with old temples in nearly every major society dedicated to this gentle art. Some may even call traditional marriage forced prostitution, but I do not. I have a personal take on it, the prostitution, not marriage. A story to tell, from personal experience. So yes, I have paid for it before, in a most egregious, and beautiful way.

I was 19, and working as a construction laborer, and I had  friend working as a stripper. I never really had a stigma I attached to strippers; i grew up in a state where there is no alcohol allowed in strip clubs, and many cities had no-touch clauses, and I also had a few friends who were employed, most of which I had not slept with. I also tend to not make assumptions about such things, I have found that most things in this life are not as they seem. One thing I found to be a good stereotype: Strippers are hot. Do not misconstrue me, I have always had a soft spot for women, especially attractive ones, at least ones I found attractive, and I feel safe in my assumption that I am not alone in that respect. Quite honestly, strippers, and other beautiful women, have made a good living taking advantage of that, and performing beautifully. This particular one, well, at the time, she broke nearly all my rules, and I loved it.

She was long, lean and lithe. Beautiful long hair, it was blondish, but the highlighted nature gave away a darker color, and perhaps side of her, underneath. Her all white, lacy lingerie glowed in the dark club, highlighted by the occasional black light. You must understand, this was no high brow gentleman’s club, it was slightly seedy, a little dirty, and small. The DJ booth was elevated so he could watch the girls and receive signals. I don’t know if you have even heard a 2-minute version of a 5-minute pop song, but you could tell when a VIP dance, wasn’t going well. But, in the dark and dusty place, she glowed I was amazed when she came right to my couch, but then a friend of mine came by, told me it was her second night, and to be nice to her. It was an unnecessary request. I have always enjoyed conversation, and I suppose I stood out in a strip club.  I bought a dance, and then started talking, and it wasn’t long before she sought out a more lucrative customer. I ended up buying a dance from another girl, and again, talking doesn’t pay their minimum, so I was left by myself. Then the real experience started. At this point I saw her giving  a rather large and athletic-looking man a dance, but she looked straight up at me, and smiled, a little smile, but the kind that grabs you. She quickly finished, and came back over to me, and I spent yet another $20. During the dance, she mentioned that she didn’t think i would come back, but was glad I did, and I answered her with a single question, “I wonder why that is”  in a tone I was unused to. She gave no verbal answer, but instead escorted me directly to the VIP section, which was really just a more secluded place in which the girls could charge, and do, more. I didn’t get charged. This is not a porn story, nor do I mean to over-glorify a banal strip club encounter. I had been to this particular club a few times, usually to visit an old friend, and make new ones. But this experience was different, and it was intangible (so to speak) but palpable. I had never before felt so genuinely wanted by someone, not in lust, not anything like I had experienced before, and I was very much LIKING it. I also want to make something clear, i do not dance, and very little dancing went on in the “VIP” area. Yet, there was no intercourse, a lot of foreplay, but no kissing, a very pure type of sexuality. That is when she did it, she propositioned me, just a suggestion, a very simple one, “Do you want to go to the hot tub lace down the street when i get off shift?” I answered an emphatic “yes!” without knowing the details, and I would have likely agreed to severing some sort of limb right at that moment, it was a brilliant stroke on her part. “Bring at least $200, and I am off in 2 hours” was her next response, and as I was working steady, and had the money, agreed, we talked about where to meet, and I left to the ATM lickety-split.

Then reality hit when we met outside of the club. She was driving a beat-up old car, filled with what looked like most of her belongings, and it wasn’t in the best of condition. She seemed a bit embarrassed, as if she were lessened by this version of reality. To ease the tension, I asked her about it, and she told me she wanted to move to California to be an actress, and she was dancing to save that money. Having always admired an industrious woman, I gave her an honest compliment, I only give honest ones, and asked where this hot tub place was, as i was uninitiated in this realm of interpersonal relations. We left, and i followed her to the local “soak-n-poke”, her terminology, not mine. now, Grew up in this area, and I happened to be known by the clerk in the soak-n-poke (heretofore known as S-n-P) which made her signing as a Miss Smith, and me using my real name, a bit awkward, and she was a bit verbal about it. the other details are less important, other than my old school buddy gave us an extra hour, complimentary, as the place was deserted except for us. It was, however, a singular experience for me. I was not a virgin, but I was not very experienced either. She seemed almost as unsure of what was happening too, but one thing I knew, we WANTED one another, the conversations, the smiles, the laughs, it was a true desire, not just physically, but in a deeper, more honest sense. I am not saying we then got married or anything, in fact, I only saw her once after that that I am certain of. i like to think that she made it to California, and became a successful actress or other type of artist, as she was hoping, and saving up for. At the end of our forbidden tryst, i went to open my wallet, and give her the money promised, and she actually declined it. That was a major ego boost to me, but i had been raised to honor my word, and i insisted at this time, saying, “consider it money to help with your California trip, if that is more appropriate” and handed her the money. It was a bittersweet, if honorable, moment. As we left and parted ways, she asked if she could come to my place, I lived with my parents and was embarrassed of such, so I declined. Yes, I was foolish, but an honest fool. I saw her once again, some time later, but again, with some terrible karmic timing, I had just started a relationship with another woman, and i am not the type to cheat, had I known then, what I know now about the girl I was starting a relationship with, it would have been different, but at the time, I had committed myself to her, and again, I foolishly declined. I do not know precisely the events, but I wish that girl well, she would be a grown woman now, and I am sure such a genuinely amazing person has done well in her life. Which brings me back to the beginning of my story.

A whore she might be called by some, prostitute by others, and some may even call her a vision. She affected the rest of my life. The money was a corollary to an experience that set a bar for other women in my life. I have since met women who spout words of love,  yet never gave me a feeling of pure desire like that one beauty. I have changed a few details, and left out others, mostly because if she is out there, she will know which ones. I have felt other women, and even some men, that have had a similar feeling of desire, but she was first. In some ways she took a form of my virginity, and I paid for it. yet prostitutes are often derided, and many with good reason, most without. Some provide a service to older men who have lost a spark in their marriage, they haven’t lost the love in their lives, just the spice of life. Some do for a fee what wives wont, or husbands can’t, or just to provide a little bit of food or gas or other needed supplies, and it is quick, tax-free cash. For me, I will always remember the woman who gave me something special, she changed the course of my life, not so much externally, but my inner vision of myself. I still do not have a stigma attached to such things, at least not a conventional one. i cannot say i would want  her today, but I know one thing, I still feel that somehow, I did something wrong by handing her that money. It was both too much, and not enough to place a value on what it was. Perhaps for her it was nothing, for me, it changed everything. Whatever the societal pressures and views, perhaps I was lucky that I had such an experience, for what it was. Some say it should be legalized and taxed, some say it shouldn’t. I am not, for the simple reason that what I did was not about the money, and never will be. I tend to use the term “whore” to refer to a woman who sells her soul, or the lack thereof, not her body.

I do not mean to glorify what is usually a soulless endeavor. For me it was great, and I hope also for her. I am a feminist, but I understand the sense of power, and freedom such an act can give. I also understand very personally, that a single act doesn’t make a profession. Broke people can do bad things, and sometimes, those bad things, are oh-so-good.

P.S. – if she happens to somehow read this, here are some thoughts:

It was B. Dalton. of course I remember,  it was 2 hours, and you showered. I have seen some things, and whatever it brings, does that mean you can still fit in them?  I am not longing, nor am I declining, I would love to have a conversation. it has been almost 20 years. Name calling I hope is beneath us, and I hope this little blog gives you an idea of the beauty I see in everything. I saw the beauty in you, and i like to think you saw the light that was inside me too. and last but certainly not least, for all that you gave, and for making what felt ugly, feel beautiful, THANK YOU. you couldn’t (?) have known what I went through before, but you started me out of my cocoon.

 

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One thought on “A Whorish Man, an Honorable Stripper

  1. Pingback: A Whorish Man, an Honorable Stripper | andrewsaysblog

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