my dick in a box

i have  co-worker who loves dancing to kitschy novelty songs, like storm large's "my vagina is 8 miles wide," and other songs i can't remember the names of, though i've heard them all one million times. well last night she played that adam sandler/justin timberlake song, "my dick in a box." it was slow for a bit, so i was sitting with my other coworker having a drink at the bar, and when that song came on, she turns to me and says with nary a hint of irony, "this song always makes me feel so festive." i said, "whaaaaat?" and she goes, "i just love christmas songs."

beach town

last weekend i went out to the coast to work at a little seaside club. my friend worked out there last month and said it could be good, and i wanted to get out of town for a couple days so i called ahead and texted pictures, and the lady said come on out.  i decided to make a little trip of it.

the shifts there are very long. they start at 4:45 in the afternoon and end at 2:30am. almost ten hours!! i didn't want my entire day to only be driving and work, so i left town early-ish so i could stop at some thrift stores on my way out there. i found some great things. my two faves were a tie-dyed garfield t-shirt and a tiny cropped motorcycle jacket.

when i got to the coast, i checked in to my hotel, which is the oldest hotel in town and has a rustic wild west vibe. it's not decorated western, but the actual building has that air. like it could've been a brothel at some point, or just the nice hotel in the rugged little fishing town. my room was only $70 per night, because it's kind of hostel style, with a shared bathroom, an it was SO CUTE! just really perfect. high ceilings, old fixtures. a little sink, and an old desk. there were two big windows that looked out over downtown and if i stood on the bed, i could see the ocean. i liked the room so much, but no sooner had i checked in than i had to leave for work. sad.

i drove to the club, and it, too, was in an old timey building. the manager showed me around, and left me in the dressing room to get ready. "the girls have been warned, they are not to bully you," she said. "if anybody bullies you, just come right to me."

"uh oh," i thought.

i did my hair and makeup and the girls trickled in one by one till there were 8 of us girls in the teeny tiny dressing room. i did what i always do at a new club, just totally kept to myself.

there wasn't a dj so the manager had one of the girls show me how to use a big old desktop PC to play music for my sets. and then there were just several hours of hanging out not making money or doing anything, really, besides sitting around looking at instagram and getting up on stage every hour or so. the bar only serves beer and wine, but there is a bar a few doors down that all the girls go to on their break. everyone gets two scheduled 15 minute breaks to go have a real cocktail down the street. how cute.

around 8pm i started to feel super antsy. i'd been there three and a half hours and barely had $40 in my purse. i was thinking i'd just leave, but then this guy materialized out of nowhere and wanted 5 dances. so then i decided to stay a while. after that i did some more dances for a different guy, and the place started to feel worth my while. none of the other girls had sold any dances yet, and they were definitely throwing me shade, which i pretended not to notice.

at 10:30 i was sitting with a customer, and the bartender came to tell me it was time for my scheduled break. i don't drink beer or wine, so i'd just been drinking water for the last 6 hours, and i felt ready for a stiff drink. the guy i was sitting with offered to go buy me a drink there, and he seemed nice enough, and it was only three doors down, so i was like, "sure."

we went down and had a drink. and then he wanted to take a shot with me. i don't usually have two drinks right in a row like that, but i felt pretty sure i wasn't going to get all the way dressed and come back on my next "break," so i thought "why not." then we had to rush back to the club. on the way back the guy said, "ok i'm ready for my kiss."

i said, "haha. what? no."

he said, "please?"

"no thanks," i said. "i have to get back to work."

he grabbed my wrist and tried to shove me into this teeny alleyway--not so much an alleyway as a narrow crevice between two buildings. i said, "knock it off! let go of me!" he didn't let go, just started leaning in for a kiss, so i stamped on his foot and punched him on the inside of his elbow, and his hand let my wrist go. i said, "get outta here!!" but he followed me into the bar anyway. i felt embarrassed for going to the bar with him, i mean how dumb am i? it just seemed fine, but now that i think about it it wasn't very smart. and he seemed to be a bar regular. i had a feeling if i complained about him it wouldn't do much good so i just tried to ignore him leering at me for the next hour until he left. asshole.

one of the house girls was having a birthday that night. she didn't say how old she was turning, but i'd guess 48 or 49, and i'm not exaggerating. most of the girls gave her presents. body spray, etc. one girl gave her a victoria's secret bag and i thought, "ooh, nice," but it wasn't cute lingerie, it was a sparkly tube dress from charlotte russe. what a misleading bag! i wondered if the birthday lady was disappointed. if she was, it didn't show.

listen, i have to work on my other projects, because there is no way in hell i'm gonna be a 48 year old dancer, working on my birthday, wearing a pink light-up tiara and getting wasted on mike's hard lemonade.

as the night wore on, the customers just got weirder and weirder. i sat for a long while with a john lithgow look-alike. the physical resemblance was uncanny, and he had a deep television voice like john lithgow, too. the guy said he used to work in radio as a news reporter for 30 years till he got downsized last year, and now he works in the fitting room at ross dress for less. he didn't seem stoked about it, but neither did he seem particularly bummed, just matter of fact: i got downsized, now i work at ross. i didn't have the heart to hustle him after that so i went and talked to other people.

i went to the dressing room, and this girl started talking about how her sister always gave her shit about being a stripper, calling her a whore, but then always wanting to borrow money. she said, "i mean, we're not whores! i'd say we were a close cousin to the prostitute, though. i mean we are being sexy for money, even if we're not having actual sex." the next time i went in there, she was saying, "i mean, do i really care what any of these guys think of me? or even any of the other girls?! NO. i don't. i just really don't." there seems to always be a girl who hangs out in the dressing room a lot, for whatever reason: the dressing room philosopher.

i talked for a while with a doctor from new york who was in town on his very first fishing trip. i can sense when a customer is about to drop a bunch of money on me, and this guy was very close. UNTIL this super wasted baby stripper came up and draped herself all over him, telling him how she was almost late for work because "these mexicans don't know how to drive," and then chronicling the entire profanity-filled fender bender in inane detail. she just went on and on and got louder and more slurry. she sat in his lap ON HIS BARSTOOL, and then fell down, at which point the guy just got up and left. i was so annoyed. this girl was just messy in general, had been stripping out of a ratty jean skirt and abercrombie t-shirt all night, and was a super messy dancer, all angles and unpointed toes. i had felt bad for her, but now i disliked her.

i did a lot of dances in the last two hours and i don't remember much about anyone except the last guy i danced for, who was probably one of the very most bizarre characters i've ever met. he was about 4'11'', and wore a drapey silk shirt and pants like an '80's popstar in a music video. very lionel richie / billy ocean. he had a mullet, and it was like no mullet i've ever seen up close, very extreme, very curly. i think he was indian, he was brown and had an indian sounding name, but i'm not sure. and he had a super thick new york accent. when we got back to the lapdance area he just wanted me to sit and talk to him. he told me how his wife had died nine months ago to the day. a lot of the things he said seemed like rehearsed lines, turns of phrase he'd employed over and over to talk about his tragedy. other things sounded like blatant lies, but i listened politely as if he were telling me a true story. i asked how long they'd been married. he said, "well since i was 25 and she was 31. so...um...let's see...i guess that would make it 29 years." i feel like most grieving widowers would know how long they'd been married without having to perform quick math.

finally the night was over. i felt like i was gonna fall over with exhaustion. i went to my hotel and had a little snack in bed all cozy. the next day i went to antique stores, and had delicious food, and went to the beach, it was so nice.

please don't kill sex workers.

http://gawker.com/texas-says-its-ok-to-shoot-an-escort-if-she-wont-have-511636423

god!!! this is so fucked up. a terrible and horrifying miscarriage of justice. AND you know, i'd like to see this girl's ad. $150 seems super low for a full-service outcall, even in texas, and i wouldn't be surprised if it was an ad for massage or something. i have definitely had clients get pissed off or scary with me when i declined to suck their dick or let them fuck me. but even if she was offering full-service and was indeed withholding it for whatever reason and ripping him off, to shoot her in the goddamn neck and then get off? i feel so depressed right now.

this is from last month. i forgot to post it.

as a reader of my blog, you know that a lot of weird things happen at work all the time. but here's a new one.

i met this cute person several years ago, but i had a girlfriend and so did she, so it was just like, "hey that person is cute. the end." and then i didn't see her again for several years, until a few weeks ago when we were both at the same party. he (is using a male pronoun now) looked just as cute as ever. cuter, even. and is recently single. we danced and chatted, and had some fun makeouts that night, and we exchanged numbers. this person, let's call him "A," lives a few hours away, and was just in town for the night. we texted back and forth all through next week, pretty flirty, and decided we'd have a date weekend in a few weeks. so that was something cute to look forward to.

well the next weekend four friends were visiting from california, and two of them were girls i've worked with, doing sexy massage. they texted to say they were gonna come in and say hi to me at work. totally natural since we're friends and since we are all sex industry types. i was excited to see them, but when they arrived, they also had "A" with them. turns out one of them was on a DATE with him.

i was really really surprised to see A, and even more surprised that he'd come into my work on a date with one of my good friends. i wasn't bothered that they were on a date, good for them, but i was bothered that A didn't feel like i was worth even a quick 2 second text to make sure it was ok to come to my workplace on a date with another girl, while i'm stuck there and naked. i had really thought that the first time we saw each other naked we'd be on a date---WITH EACH OTHER.

i was happy to see my friends, and they all came up to the tip rack and were super fun and in a great party mood, but A just hung out at a table at the very back of the club, looking bored. it was awkward. and also kind of infuriating. like if you're gonna barge in on me this way, could you at least be cool? lame.

before that night, when i was still excited about A, and about our upcoming sexy weekend, i had shown his picture to the bartender, who is one of my good friends. so when he came in, she recognized him and was like, "isn't that the person you're crushing on?" i was like, "yep." she said, "looks like he's ...on a date?" "yep." embarrassing. whatever.

they didn't stay very long, thank god. and when they left i felt really bummed. i always get sad when people treat me rudely or with indifference.

the next day he texted me to say it had been really nice to see me. like we'd just happen to run into one another out in the world. i didn't respond. a few days later he texted just to say hello. i was like, "that was not very cool, how you came into my work on a date without asking." i really do think that a lady should get to decide when someone she's flirting with sees her naked. anyway he apologized and now it's fine. but fuck him. what a douche.

poetic justice

i always go next door and eat when i get off work. i keep planning to stop eating in the middle of the night like that, but dancing makes me hungry. and anyway i don't know if the idea of eating late at night being super unhealthy really applies to people who get off work at 2:45am. i guess it's supposed to make you fat? well i'm not gaining weight from it, and i don't like going to bed hungry. so whatever.

my point though is just to tell you something funny that happened.

this cook next door has been getting overly friendly with me. kind of too familiar or something. well tonight he really went too far. i was eating a plate of tinga (have you had it? it's my favorite thing: chicken stewed with chorizo) with chips and guacamole. it was super delicious, but when i dipped a chip in the guacamole, there was a hair in it. so i put that chip with the hair on the edge of my plate and was done eating. right then the cook reached across the counter TO EAT OFF MY PLATE (really?! you're going to take food off my plate like we're family, when in fact we barely know each other?!), and the chip he grabbed was the one with the hairy guacamole. it was so gross to watch, i feel kind of gaggy thinking about it now. but it was also kind of hilarious.

ok so tired. goodnight. xo

zzz

hi. this is a boring entry. so don't read it if you care to be entertained.

i really love my club, but i can only usually get two shifts per week there. and lately i've been thinking about how much more money i could have if i just worked one or two more shifts per week. i think about this pretty often, but am kind of comfy and lazy and i like having most days off. but it's time for me to work more. so i auditioned at a club that lots of girls seem to like, but i worked there yesterday and i didn't like it very much. it has a weird layout. too many seats at the bar, so everyone just sits there. boring.

i was there from 4-9, and it was soooo slow. luckily a regular from my other club came in and got a lot of dances. if he hadn't shown up, i would've made $60 for the entire day!!! i only sold a dance to ONE other person besides him, and made around $40 in stage tips over the course of five hours. i feel bad for the other girls who were working, none of them sold any dances all day. they didn't even seem to be ASKING anyone. they were basically working for minimum wage, but they all seemed to love their jobs? i don't get this thing where girls will work at a club that's considered "cool," or whatever, but where they don't make any money. it's baffling. they're all best friends at this club, so i guess maybe it's ok for them to go hang out with their friends for free.

i don't want to work midshifts there, so i asked the bartender how long it usually takes to get on thursdays and weekend nights there, and she was like, "well it just depends. a good way to do it is to come in on wednesday nights when (owner's name) is here. come kind of toward closing, because after we close we like to party and some of the girls will dance for him and his friends."

ohhhkay. so basically if i wanna get good shifts, it's advisable to come in and dance for an after-hours coke party with the owner and his buddies? ...i dunno. i'm just going to try it the old fashioned way of showing up for work, selling a lot of drinks and dances, and waiting it out a month or two. if that doesn't work i'll just try somewhere else.

after i got off work, i ate a lot of candy went out and drank too much. ew. i'm not drinking this month, march. i need a break. i was feeling so good for those sober 6 weeks i did. wish me luck on this, it's hard at first, then after a week or so it's easy and feels great.

a happy valentine.

i've been working a lot. but also there have been developments in my personal life. by which i mean that i had my first makeout since late september. yes, folks, it is true: i went four and a half months without so much as a kiss. ...until valentine's day.

what happened is that i ran into a girl i have had a light crush on for several months. i was looking really cute, as i always do on valentine's day. i never ever have a date on valentine's. my ex was too punk rock or whatever to really get behind it, and other than that i've always been single or had a long-distance lover. i have LITERALLY never ever had a valentine's date ever.  anyway, i ran into this girl and we chatted for a few minutes, and then went on with our lives. i was feeling the need to go out into the world for the night, rather than staying home with myself as per usual. some girls had invited me to a house party, and i decided to go. while i was putting on makeup, the cute girl texted me to see what i was up to. i told her i was heading to a party, and asked if she'd like to come. i was surprised when she said yes. and so i gave her the address and met her there. she arrived before i did and waited in her car, since she didn't know the people whose party it was. when she saw that i was there, she got out of her car and came over to me, and took my arm in a sweet way. 

IT WAS SO CUTE. and also just perfect. i haven't arrived at a party with anyone in ages.

when she took off her coat, i saw that she'd put on a red blazer for the occasion. swoon. we danced and talked, had a cocktail, and then we kissed.  she is an excellent kisser, just truly superb. it was a lovely kiss. and then we made out for a good long time. we went home separately. ok if i'm honest i have to tell you that we went home separately because she wanted us to go to another party together, but i was drunk and didn't want to get in a car. we were only a couple blocks from my house, and i was planning to walk home. so she went to get another drink, and that was the last i saw of her. i texted her a bit later to see where she was at, and she said, "at home boo. got so tired all of a sudden."

i was offended for one second, and i mentioned it to a friend who was like, "yeah, that's kind of lame. but whatever! you ALWAYS pull a shady irish sneakout. what about new years? or how about the party at my house last week?"

"it's true," i said. "i do pretty much always disappear around the witching hour without saying goodbye. but shady irish sneakout is a weird term. i prefer to say i've performed a backdoor shuffle. and i must say that if i've been making out with someone, i will almost always find them and say goodbye." but i am so familiar with the feeling of having to leave RIGHT NOW for any number of reasons, that i wasn't offended anymore. also i was just in such a good mood that i wanted to go with it, and i had a great time dancing with my friends into the wee hours.

well. that had nothing to do with work, but i just thought i'd tell you about that because i've been so depressing lately. "blah blah blah i'm suicially heartbroken, blah blah blah my father died."  i'm happy to be able to report that something good happened to me (besides just making money at work, which of course i always enjoy).

i worked on saturday and the girl texted around 2am to see if i wanted to stop in and say hi while she was closing up the bar where she works. it was just down the street from my club, and i wanted to see her, so even though i was dead tired from the saturday crowd, i said yes. i got there and she was super busy cleaning and counting money, etc. there was an afterparty going but it was mostly dudes and every single one of them came and chatted solicitously with me for a minute. after a long night of work, i really don't feel like talking to dudes, so i was polite but unfriendly and they left me alone. the girl barely said hello to me and i felt dumb for being there, waiting for someone who had peaced out on me and now was barely saying hello. but i didn't want to leave, because that would just seem huffy or dramatic. so i waited 45 minutes or so, caught up on how cute everyone's pets and girlfriends are on instagram, beat a couple people on words w friends, and then finally she was done and everyone was gone and we sat and had a drink and talked and made out till 6am. it was cute. i like her. she's very charming and EXTREMELY hot.

well that was all rad. and then we had a date planned for yesterday but i just psychically knew she was going to flake. i mean, all day i knew for a fact that she was going to text and cancel, but there was the off-chance that i was wrong, so i still cleaned my house and got my nails done. i should mention that the acrylics i already had on were pretty fresh, and still had another good week in them, but they were hellllllla long, definitely too long to be all up in anyone's pussy. except for mine, as i've become an expert at masturbating with super long talons without injuring myself. and they were the very pointy kind, called "stilettos." anyway the prospect of possible sex was enough to make me run not walk to the nail shop and have them cut down to cute but unglamorous shorties.

by 7pm i hadn't heard from her, and one of my co-workers texted to see if i would work. if i wasn't gonna get laid, i would at least like to make money. but i'd rather get laid any day. so i sent the girl a text saying, "we still on for tonight?" and she texted back, "i'm so tired boo. can we hang tomorrow?"

bummed. but unsurprised.

so i worked. i thought it would be mellow because it was a sunday, but since today (monday) is president's day, it was bonkers busy. i made a lot of $$$. i'd say about half of it was from one customer. he was very nice, but after like ten dances i started to *wish* he'd run out of money. strange thing to hope for, i know, but i was just so incredibly bored of dancing for him, and bored of saying "thank you," every time he told me what an incredible body i have, which happened about 5 times during each dance. like, really, after 10 or 15 dances, what do you do without seeming repetitive? plus my quads were KILLING.

eventually he did run out of money. and then i danced for an assortment of other dudes. i was so busy the night flew by very fast and before i knew it, it was closing time. 

there is a cute new dancer who was working. i've worked with her before and she doesn't hustle, and so doesn't make very much money, and so doesn't want to pay for a cab and will WALK home. !!! crazy, right? the last time i worked with her i drove her home, and another time i bullied her into calling a cab. but last night she was super drunk and wouldn't be reasoned with, wouldn't even wait for me to count my money and drive her home, and left the club in a mini-skirt and knee-highs. i was mad at her for making me worry. i wish she'd be smarter. it's LUDICROUS to walk a mile home in a mini-skirt after dancing naked for strangers all night. what a naive cheapskate. i hope nothing happened to her.

so. today i was supposed to have a date with the hot girl since she didn't want to hang out yesterday. i looked forward to seeing her all day, but then she flaked. and you know what? i was bummed for a minute, but i don't actually care. i feel happy to have spent valentine's day with her, and although i'd like to fuck her brains out, i can sense that she must not be that into me. my feelings aren't hurt by this, i'm glad that she's being flaky upfront, before i could really develop a big crush. and i also feel stoked that the SPELL HAS BEEN BROKEN. when i was making out with her, i could literally feel the heavy chains around my heart giving way. for the first time since i got dumped at the end of september, i don't feel like i'm going to die of this broken heart. i still feel a bit bedraggled, but i also feel like it's possible to become attracted to other people. and heart feels lighter in my chest.

mini (working) vaycay

i needed a little trip (and also i had some work planned for my other occupation that i've mentioned to you, but that i don't want to tell you about because it ruin any semblance of anonymity i've managed to maintain in this little blog), so i went down south on friday. i was going to stay a few nights with a friend, but i texted her the night before i left, and she said she was having a crisis and i couldn't stay there. i could've checked with a couple other people, but i don't like asking to stay at someone's house last minute. it feels rude. also i just don't like needing things from people, or asking for things, it feels vulnerable especially when the answer might be "no."  i was stressed out for a minute, but then i decided to just get over it, and i booked a hotel on travelocity. i hate cheap hotels so i got a decent four-star for two nights, which was $300. i had promised myself a bit of shopping, but there went the money i'd set aside, so i decided to put my ad up and see some clients.

the first one was an australian guy with the understated, yet entitled, swagger of the grown up rich kid. he was young-ish and conventionally attractive, with dark curly hair and perfectly straight white teeth bearing the stamp of top notch orthodontia. he was nice enough, but kind of smug in the way that guys who know they're handsome can be sometimes. like you should be super stoked that they are blessing you with their presence. hard to describe unless you've been a ho, but guys like that will always mention to you on the phone that they are "good looking," or "fit and attractive." OR they will send you a picture. like what's the desired response here? do some girls see them for free? or offer a "hot guy discount"? this is not a dating site, i don't need your picture.

i definitely like when guys are well groomed and being hot can be a bonus for sure, but when a guy acts like a conceited jerk, i usually don't find them hot. i am nice to all my clients, and i try to find some attractive thing about every one of them. i'm not nicer to good-looking guys, i am nicer to NICE GUYS. some of my most fun sessions have been with guys who weren't super handsome, but were respectful and had a sexy charm.

so. anyway, this aussie guy wasn't a huge jerk or dangerous,  but he wasn't fun. he was grabby and a little more aggressive than i prefer. oh, and he was shocked and offended that i didn't want him to go down on me. "you don't know what you're missing," he said in a superior, pitying tone. oh well, my loss.

my next client was a guy i've seen before, one of my only black clients. he's a super mellow, especially for a lawyer. he's sweet and really easy, i'm always glad when he calls.

so then i had money again and i didn't feel stressed about shopping. i got some really cute stuff. not very many things, as i'm going more for quality than quantity these days. and i slept late in the fancy bed. and read in the tub, and went and did my other job, and then laid in bed some more and watched the charlie brown valentine's special. and went out for a couple walks in the sun. it was very nice.

dead deadbeat dad

---disclaimer: this is a personal entry that doesn't have much to do with work. i don't have a personal blog, though, and i needed to write today, so here ya go. don't read it if you don't want to, and i won't ever know.--

well. my father died yesterday. i barely knew him. his visits had been few and far between when i was little, but after he came to visit when i was ten, saying he was gonna move to portland and be a dad, blah blah blah, i never saw him again. he did call one time after that, though, when i was 13. i answered the phone and he acted all chummy, like a regular dad just calling his regular daughter for a regular little chat, instead of a drug-addicted drifter calling his malnourished and neglected daughter after making wild claims then disappearing for years on end.

i said, "you can't just call here, and expect us [my sister and me] to be happy to hear from you."

he said, "i kept trying to call, but your phone's always disconnected."

"well, how about sending some money so it stays on?"

he laughed lightly, pretending i'd made a joke. "take it easy, andi. don't you miss me?"

i was hungry and pissed off. in general. why couldn't i have the kind of absentee dad who at least sent money once in a while? one who cared that his daughters never had enough to eat, shivered all winter without proper coats, and wore the same crappy clothes to school every day? like if you actually cared about your kids, wouldn't you want them NOT to look like orphanage escapees? wouldn't it matter to you that they were living like "the boxcar children," virtually parent-less in a haunted section 8 house with barren cupboards and no working toilet, heat, or refrigerator?

"no," i said. "i don't miss you. i don't even know you."

"you know me: i'm your dad! i'm charlie," he said.

"fine. hi charlie," i said. "why are you calling?"

"i just miss you is all. how are you?" (in his thick brooklyn accent this sounded like, "i juss miss you is awel. how ahhhhh you?")

"i'm ok. but you know what? i don't want to talk to you," i told him. "and neither does [sister's name]."  i didn't know whether she wanted to or not, but i was in the habit of making decisions for the both of us (a necessity in our childhood that became a cause of resentment when we were grown).

"oh," he said.

right then i wanted him to have some news, like "i'm coming to visit." or, "i care about your well-being, so i've decided to start paying child support." some compelling reason to make me want to talk to him. maybe a declaration that he was sorry for never ever being there or claiming us or adding anything at all to our lives, but that that was all about to change because he was deciding to STEP UP.

he had no such declaration. we weren't worth it. he didn't try at all, just threw in the towel right away. "ok," he said. "well. i love you."

"bye," i said, my cheeks piping hot with anger and shame.

before i could hang up, though, he said, "wait! i said 'i love you.' ...don't you love me?"

i didn't think, just blurted, "no. actually i hate you. goodbye."

it felt good to slam down the phone. i really thought he'd call right back and want to work it out. he'd say something that would make me not hate him, and then i could apologize for saying i hated him, and we could get along for a while. that's how my mom did things. she'd get mad and hit everyone and yell a lot, then have something sweet to say and things would be ok for a while. basic survival precluded the luxury of grudge-holding. that you could fully freak out on someone, and then a little later say the right things to make them forgive you, was a total given in our house. (a truly terrible way of relating to loved ones that has snuck along with me into adulthood, btw.)

well, charlie hadn't spent much time in our house, so he didn't know that "i hate you," was code for "please give me a reason to love you." he never called back. my mom liked to say that my meanness was the reason he never called again. but i thought it was that, and also that we were needy strangers and he just didn't feel like it.

so. that was the last time i talked to him.

when i say that i haven't seen him since i was ten, though, that's not exactly true. i must've seen him 12 years later, when i was living in san francisco, because he saw me. by then he and my mom had reconnected through his aunt, who my mom took care of (long story). so he'd call her from time to time. once he called her to ask if my hair was pink and white. he had come to san francisco for methadone and was sleeping on the street (ONE BLOCK AWAY from where i was living) and he swore this girl who walked by him every day was his daughter. don't ask me how he knew that. but maybe it's a thing, that you just recognize your offspring when you see them in the world?

anyway my mom "didn't want to upset me," so she didn't mention it till months later. he had probably moved on by that point, but still i spent some time really looking into the faces of the homeless dudes who lived down the block. after a few days of thinking this guy or that one might be him, i decided i actually didn't want to know, because if i knew who he was, wouldn't i be obligated to help him? i was still so bitter and fucked up over my abusive and destitute childhood that i didn't want to have to help some homeless guy i didn't even know, who just happened to have had a fleeting teenage romance with my mom that left her knocked up with twins. so i changed my route to work, going out of my way to avoid that particular block of shotwell street.

so. that's pretty much it. and then came facebook, and my mom and charlie's sister became friends on it. she harassed me until i added her, as well, but then she made some rude homophobic remarks on one of my pictures so i blocked her. but my mom and she have kept in contact, and the sister has kept my mom up to date on charlie's whereabouts, etc. so for this reason i've known for the last few months that he was dying of liver cancer. and then yesterday he died.

my mom called to tell me and i thought, "wow. that's sad." and i sat around for a little while thinking i didn't actually feel sad about it. i didn't feel glad, or anything like that, but i felt about as sad as when you read in the paper that tragedy has befallen someone you don't know. as a person, a member of humanity, you say, "wow. that's sad." but it's not personal.

so then i got ready and went to work. i felt kind of weird and spaced out but it was an okay night. i felt some feelings creeping in, so i decided to drink, which i haven't been doing for a while. i told a customer he looked like steve carell, and he got super offended so i said, "well at least you're not funny, too, because then the resemblance would just be uncanny." that allowed me to chuckle to myself for a while, and i just kept working all night without feeling anything, and then came home and went to bed.

but then when i got up today i felt unexpectedly heavy and sad. it's sad that this guy, my father, died without ever getting to know his smart and awesome daughters. it's sad that the last thing i ever said to him was that i hated him, especially when i didn't ever know him enough to hate him and was just disappointed and angry. also liver cancer is supposed to be a terrible way to go. it's sad when anyone dies a painful death, especially with no home. at least his sister had taken him in these last few months. but how must it feel for your life to end on someone's couch? even though i didn't know him, it doesn't feel to me like a stranger died. i feel like a person who could've meant something to me has died. someone who could've truly loved me and had a lot of my love in return. i'm not stingy with it. give me an inch, and i'll give you a mile.

and i'm having all the old feelings of being a snowball melting on its solo flight through space. i don't know when i came up with that particular image, but it kinda perfectly describes how i feel as someone with no partner or close every-day friends, a family who doesn't talk to me anymore, and a mom who is always so out of it on pills or methadone that you can barely talk to her, let alone count on her for anything at all. more like a weird older sister who is nice sometimes, but has made it clear that you're not her problem. i don't often allow myself to get caught up in these feelings, but i called out of work today for the first time in 3 years, and am just letting myself have a sad day.

beach house

today i was sitting with a customer who, like many customers, felt compelled to brag to me about his personal fortune. it's so weird when people say, "i'm worth three million dollars," or whatever amount they pull from the ether. first of all, no you're not. second of all, why you gotta phrase it like that? it sounds so literal, like your entire being is worth x amount of money. maybe i am a nut, but i am uncomfortable putting a specific monetary value on a human life.

anyway i was sitting with a customer who was telling me how rich he was "in california." he just moved here and had "closed on a house today." hmm. last time i checked banks weren't open on sundays. and tomorrow's martin luther king day on top of that. but he had a weird hawaiian shirt and jeans on that could've been the outfit of a rich eccentric, and i was waiting to see if he'd buy some dances. so i sat with him and listened to him talk about his malibu beach house. "haha you have a beach house....CD," i joked. he didn't get it. he'd never heard of beach house the band, and i don't think it occurred to him that i was doubting his story. he was so committed to telling it, clearly relishing his own inventive details.

well then i got back up on stage and he continued to sit at a table, while seeming sad to see me go, which i assumed meant he didn't have money to sit at the tip rack. my hunch was confirmed when i looked over at him and he was texting on a giant old flip phone.

i guess you can tell a stripper any story you want, and though most guys tell regular old stories dripping with mundane truth, there's always gonna be your poor guys claiming to be rich, your married guys claiming to be single (and trying to get your number), your community college teacher who says he's a surgeon. just another day in the fantasy cave.

mommy issues and butch daddies

i was down south last week taking care of some legal matters (arg!) and seeing a few clients. i may have mentioned that my best client, the hot doctor, broke up with me because he got a girlfriend. i had become quite used to seeing him a few times a month, and i really liked him a lot. in fact, i always looked forward to seeing him. that extra few hundred dollars a week didn't hurt, either. but i'm happy for him, in a broke kind of way. so i saw some other totally fine, but less favorite clients. the bossy japanese businessman i've written about before, who likes to meet me in a private hot tub room at the japanese bathhouse. the sweet aging frat boy who is about 40 but still wears a white baseball cap and abercrombie & fitch hoodies. he lives in a super fancy house on the edge of town and insists on paying for my roundtrip cabfare ($80) instead of just coming to my incall. totally fine with me--i love outcalls because then i don't have to pay the house.

i also did a BDSM double with a good friend of mine and her regular, in which she played the guy's mommy and i was his hot cousin. i've done domination/humiliation doubles with this friend before, and she never ceases to amaze me with her ability to set a scene, and just TALK. she is seriously theee best dirty talker and boss bitch i've ever known. truly inspirational. i could really see how this client likes to be babied by her, because she is so totally confident and in control that he can take off his fancy suit, lay down his CEO vigilance, and just trust her completely with his unusual desires for a couple of hours. the story was that he had stolen a pair of her underwear, and on and on from there. there was some sick mommy stuff, spanking followed by positive reinforcement, followed by more spanking. the guy wanted his pain boundaries pushed, so we beat him so thoroughly he ended up using his safeword, "red." and then the finale was some cousin/cousin jerkoff action. whenever i've doubled with this girl, she's the talking top, doing almost all of the talking, and i'm the bottom, following her lead, agreeing with whatever she's said, and filling in details here and there. to even out the workload i always jerk the guy off and clean up the room after. it feels fair splitting the $ that way.

after that session i went to meet a friend at a bar to watch a trailblazer's game. it's usually hard to find a sports bar outside of portland where they will show the blazers on a big screen, but my friend knows the owner of this place. when i arrived at the bar, my friend wasn't there yet. i sat down at the bar, next to an older butch of the white-collar professional variety. she kept glancing over at me, and when i ordered a drink she told the bartender to put on her tab. i thanked her, and we ended up chatting. she told me about her fancy job for a while, then when she asked what i did, i just didn't feel like lying about it so i told her i strip and do sensual massage. it's like she was waiting for me to say that or something, because she immediately started telling me about her call girl!!!

she said she's super busy and just doesn't have time to go out trying to meet girls (yet apparently has time to sit drinking alone at sports bars, but let's just go with her version here), plus she really only likes super high femme pretty girls who are younger than she, and she acknowledges that she herself has gotten kind of frumpy over the years, and is somewhat out of touch with younger culture. but she has a lot of money, so after tossing the idea around for YEARS, she finally decided she would just seek an arrangement with somebody.  she thought about calling an actual prostitute, but when she thought about what she wanted, she just wanted to be touched and massaged, and have hand-sex. so she called a few massage girls to see if they saw women. most were honest and said that they didn't really want to, but finally one of them referred her to a lesbian co-worker, who mostly sees guys but talks about wanting to see women. the butch called the lezzie up, and she has been coming over once or twice a week ever since. "she is just a knockout," she said. "and we have amazing chemistry. whether it's real or manufactured, i don't know. but i feel it."

wow. i was kind of floored. but also really happy for the girl and the butch. sounds like a perfect arrangement for them. i, personally, have zero interest in seeing women on a work level. i mean, if i could see them first maybe, but that's not generally part of the deal. it's not supposed to matter what the client looks like anyway, they are choosing you.  also, it seems like that would be too intimate, would too closely resemble the type of actual sex i engage in (when i am so lucky). my actual sex life is important to me and i don't want to wreck it.

anyway. just another day full of weird characters. it's nice to go down south and be around interesting people basically every minute of every day. kind of counter-balances the entire days i spend not talking to a single person up in portland.

p.s. the blazers won! which hardly ever happens, and was definitely cause for celebration.