yesterday i was at this all-day/all-night party with my friends when i got a text from the bachelor party company i work for. (when i say "company," i mean this one girl i used to dance with who has a small company of girls she sends out mostly to bachelor parties, but also stripper-grams, birthday parties, two-girl shows, arm-candy dinner dates.) she wanted to know if i could do a birthday party at midnight.
i had to think about it for a minute. i had planned to stay at the party all night and take MDMA. i love that drug so much but i know it is positively terrible for your brain matter, so i only indulge in it once a year. always either at this one gay pride party that i was at yesterday, or in guerneville, the little gay river town i like to go to. hmmm, an easy $200 later, or ecstasy now...
well, i chose the money. i decided that having to work later would be a really good excuse not to get super wasted. and also a good excuse to save my ecstasy date for later in the summer. i like having it to look forward to, actually.
so i danced and danced for eight hours straight. surrounded on all sides by love and ten years worth of friends. i hated having to leave at 11pm, but my feet were hurting and everyone was starting to look a bit ragged anyway. not in a way that was unattractive, but actually just in a way that was making me feel a teensy bit left out.
the words of my mom, the timeless party-girl, were in my head as i left to go put on my stripper get-up: "always leave the party while it's still fun."
the birthday party was at a bar down the street from my house. i went home and you-tubed the song they wanted, "you can leave your hat on," by joe cocker. also they wanted me to look like a burlesque dancer, not a stripper. so i put on some nude fishnets with black lines up the back, mary jane stripper shoes with big bows on the toes, and a black lacy bra/tiny panty set that looks kind of vintagey. i curled my bangs under for a bettie page wig effect. (my hair's been looking very wiggy lately: perfection.)
i don't particularly like dancing in bars, and when i got about a block away i felt oddly nervous. i ducked in to the piano bar across the street and ordered a sidecar, not too sweet. i felt warm and happy sitting in one of the city's oldest bars, surrounded by aging queens, listening to warbly-voiced singers belting out showtunes. i felt like i could be in another time, sitting there drinking my old-fashioned drink and looking all cute.
feeling much better, i crossed the street and went to my gig. i was supposed to dance and then do the cake and lead everyone in happy birthday, and then hang out for about 20 minutes sitting on they guy's lap, etc. well. i danced to half of the song, the guy was so embarrassed and uncomfortable, he was beet red and sweating bullets. after like two minutes, he said, "thank you. okay. thank you," by which he clearly meant, "stop. please. stop." so i went and got the cake, lit the candles, fed him a few bites. and then he goes, "really. thank you," and took my shoulders, gently turning me around and sending me packing. sounds rude but really wasn't. sometimes you're just done.
so i got paid and left. i was worried for a minute that they would feel ripped off, but when i was a block away i got a text from the guy who ordered the stripper in the first place and it was like, "that was great! you were perfect! so cute! thanks!" so i figured it was okay.
my friend was playing records down the street at the dyke bar so i stopped in for a minute to say hello, and it felt like the old days for a minute. i used to always go there after working a party. i'd sit there by myself with a thousand bucks burning a hole in my purse and i'd feel rich but lonesome. i used to have this feeling, like is making a lot of money with no one to spend it on like when a tree falls in the forest and nobody hears it? a useless riddle and what am i even talking about? but i did used to feel somewhat existential about my wealth. i don't now. i just feel lucky whenever i'm not broke.
okay. bye for now.
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