A Confession For the 4th of July

4 07 2008

Because it’s a holiday, I had no work, so no bike ride. I do have a confession, and it’s one that MAY shock some of my readers. If I work with you, and you read this blog, AND you choose to read this post, DO NOT tell anyone that we work with what you just read. Please.

So anyhow. I turned in my letter of resignation last week. It sucked. I’ve never turned in a letter of resignation before. It sure made the fact that I’m moving more realistic.

For about three years, I moonlighted as an exotic dancer. It paid the bills when I was just getting on my feet after our separation, and after our divorce. I was pretty irresponsible with my money, and for a long time, I didn’t really care if I lived or not. Fortunately, I had the u-b. He literally saved me from myself. He was always there for me, no matter the time, day or night. He never openly judged me, he just made sure I was safe. He finally convinced me to quit about 14 months ago.

Tonight I am going back. You can take that however you want to. The u-b was, well, almost devastated when I told him I was going back. I told him I was starting next week, and that I would only be working Fridays. I am actually starting tonight, and will be working Fridays and Saturdays for the next 7 or 8 weeks. However long I have before my train leaves.

Part of me is almost sick that I am going back to do this again. I really thought I never would. But here I am, counting down the hours until I need to start getting ready.

But another part, the dark sinister part, is REALLY excited to go back. I miss it. It was exciting. It made me feel powerful. It was an adrenaline rush every time I got on the stage. I liked having all that attention. I liked having all that money.

I made anywhere from $800 – $2000 a week. There were nights when I would make $1000, and not have to work for the rest of the week if I didn’t want to. But on the down side, to the rest of the world, I was “just a stripper.” It made life difficult at times. It made it hard to get a normal job. It made it hard to finance a car. No pay stubs means you miss out on a lot of small benefits that are available to the rest of the world.

I am not sure if I will dance in Seattle or not. I am not ruling it out. I have a club picked out. I am good enough, that I can pretty much work in any club that I want. That is not an ego statement, that is something I learned about myself along time ago. I have the body that men will pay to use. But I don’t feel taken advantage of. I never have. I feel like I am taking advantage of them. It is really a symbiotic relationship though.

I think I will end up working in a club in Seattle. I like living an alternative lifestyle. I feel so caged in by a 40 hour work week. I have learned some very important things by working at my current (day) job. I have learned how good it feels to pay my bills. I have learned how to save money, and how to put money away for my eventual retirement. I will never go without a job with a paycheck again. But it will probably be a retail job, with a schedule that changes. Or a coffee shop job. Or something else that is less concerned with keeping a “professional” appearance. I want to be able to stretch my earlobes. Get tattoos that I don’t have to worry about hiding. And keep my nose ring in when I go to work. So. Yeah. That’s that.

Besides, with a pay stub, I’ll be able to prove that I work, and that should help with finding a place to live.

Honestly, if I thought I wouldn’t need the reference source, or the pay stubs, or if I thought I had zero chance of transferring my job to Seattle, I would probably quit on Monday. I would just dance full time, and put every sweaty, crumpled dollar bill in my savings account. I would be able to make a lot more money working four or five nights a week at a club than two and a 40-hour work week at my day job. My heart just isn’t in it anymore. I just want to do whatever it takes to get to Seattle at the end of August.

And yes, most strippers are either Bi or Lesbian. Just in case you were wondering.

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