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The trick is we always reset our happiness baseline so once you get that claw leg bathtub you might need the golden curtains to really tie it all in, and perhaps a summer house with beautiful gardens to relax away from the home. I guess I don't have a point except that once we get our dream sometimes it's like we're never happy and need to find the next mission, I know this is the case with myself and physical possessions, they're little jolts of dopamine that tend to wear off fairly quick, I know there's studies about it, and don't mean to talk down about a claw foot bathtub since I want one too.

 

Hello Big,

 

Thank you for your response. I agree with this completely and really appreciate another point of view.

 

You're so right - everyone always wants more. I really don't know how to handle that reality and I do burry my head in the sand about a lot of home truths. I really don't know what I'm chasing and if I was to be honest with myself I think I would experience a similar type of boredom I'm going through now if I just kicked about a big house with no job by myself all day.

 

I really envy anyone who knows exactly who they are and especially what they want to do. A lot of kids I know seemed to be born wanting to be a doctor or a vet and therefore took the steps throughout their lives to achieve their goal. I never had that and I always longed for an obvious career to chase to give me direction.

 

What do you do apart from talking to your lovely friend to help your over thinking? It really is the bane of my life.

 

Cheers again,

 

Lo x

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Success is about 'doing' special and not just 'feeling' special. How about you spend some time working on a budget, determining how much money you'll need to buy that house, looking a careers and schools that will be able to pay you well for a lifetime rather than just for a few more years as a stripper. That will be a more sure road to success than just assuming you'll be rich because you dream about it and want to be.

 

Hello Lavenderdove,

 

As you know I really value your opinion - you always seem to bring things back down to earth and I appreciate your feedback.

 

I agree with goal setting and working towards a career, but I really cannot think of anything I would love to do enough to start a degree in. I'm kind of lost and feel like I have no real ambitions when it comes to careers. A lot of my friends have either fallen into jobs they don't like just to use their degree or have got what they wanted.

 

I am very unusual for my area and age as I never even went to university. Even then I couldn't chose a degree to do and ended up not going at all. I could list a few jobs that would pretty much guarantee me a paying position in the UK - things like engineering, surveyor, nurse, mid-wife, doctor, electrician, plumber - but they are all beyond me.

 

On the flip side, I really don't think I'm special. I don't think I'm any better than anyone else. I sometimes think I view the world quite visually and am affected by my surroundings massively (whether this is an OCD thing I'm not sure), but I can remember rooms and what people were wearing 10 years ago in detail but can't remember peoples names I've dealt with for years. My short term memory is appalling and at work I have to write everything down on a note or I forget it instantly. Sometimes I don't feel like my brains wired 'right' - but that doesn't mean I think I'm above anyone or outstanding in anyway.

 

I have a weird, mix match set of skills that don't belong on a CV or fit into a regular job. I don't want to just settle and do something that pays well but makes me miserable five days a week. I only have one life and I don't want to sell my soul to only live for the weekend. I guess not everyone has the luxury of doing something they like. I'm in a fortunate position where my husband could support me and I currently work part time. We had a long talk last night (2am) and he said all he wants is for me to be happy and do something I enjoy but that leaves me time to keep the apartment the way I like it. We both agree I need to take action and start the ball rolling. Any suggestions for motivating a bum would be much appreciated!

 

I guess on this journal I just say what is true and try and be completely honest with myself. To honestly express yourself is the hardest and most precious thing for me and I will say things that sound like complete c**p (like expectation and wishful thinking) but thats the honest truth of how I was feeling at that time and as silly as it may sound I can't take it back.

 

As for Prince Charming, I don't believe he exists, and when he does, he's always gay.

 

I do however think what me and D have is special, regardless of how mundane I am. A lot of couples I know have married but split up, a lot of relationships have ended and strange or not I take pride in the fact that we communicate and work things through. Having something that truly works and you're in love is special and is definitely rare where I come from. I massively celebrate romance and probably have an inflated view of the whole concept, but I really don't think it boils down to figures and statistics. I read posts after posts on here from people who are unhappy in love or madly searching for love and it makes me feel lucky and glad that we have a great relationship. I think anything like that is super special but anyway, I'm mushy so it's probably all a matter of opinion.

 

I feel like I need to figure out some kind of career I want to get into, and this is really difficult when the only thing that makes me happy outside of my relationship, looking after our home and shopping spree's is dancing.

 

I appreciate you trawling through my ramblings lavenderdove as I know I often don't make sense, but being a house wife isn't an acceptable career choice for a woman anymore. I feel really stuck and lost in this world of career go getting women. I feel really guilty that I'm not like that as well.

 

I will add that the stripping is a world not many people ever see the insides of and I can say it is a seductive velvet underground thats highly addictive and lucrative if you're motivated. I realise it is not a long term career choice, but I am a natural thrill seeker and a highly sexual person who thrived in that environment. In my past I have done nude modelling, fetish style modelling and myself and D are very experimental sexually. If we were to label our lifestyle it would probably seem 'bohemian'. I realise this is not something I could support myself on for a long time and like all careers based on youth and looks (modelling, exotic dancing, etc) the money is high whilst you can do it but short lived. I constantly dream of going back every day not only for the money but for the sheer atmosphere of the place. I relished it and it felt like home. Its very hard not to sound crazy when I say this but it's the truth for me. You can see how going from that to an office job was a culture shock for me in many ways and has and still is taking a lot of adjustment.

 

Any suggestions to get my life sorted are welcomed with open arms though! I need it!

 

Thanks,

 

Lo x

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'I am quite amazed that you reflect on your childhood a lot Lo, you seem to have a good memory for it and bring it up a lot...I'm not saying it's a bad thing but just an observation.'

 

Big,

 

Yes I do bring it up a lot and when I write I don't think and I don't stop unit I'm finished. I guess it's something that naturally happens when I reflect because thats what this journal is to me, an honest reflection for myself.

 

I'm not trying to psycho analyse myself by going back to the roots of my childhood, although subconsciously I do wonder what I'm trying to get at. I suppose really I'm still working out who I am and we never really stop searching. I sometimes grapple with the fact there is no conclusion to life where everything suddenly falls together when you're 30. My constantly going back and forth to past and present is very boring but then again I don't expect anyone to read this and it is sincerely a therapy tool for myself where I can escape.

Edited by mylolita
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I have been watching and reading a lot about Bruce Lee over the past few weeks and there's something about his attitude and nature that just compels me to listen to him. His personality is so magnetic and his wisdom that beyond his years. It was a true shame he died so young.

 

I realise my life is nothing like the extreme and gifted dedicated he had to martial arts, but I believe he made martial arts an art - and thats what separated him from everyone else at the time.

 

I think anything can be made into an art and all things hold some form of beauty. Making something into 'art' is the highest and most beautiful destination. I find dancing to be an art form when done truthfully. These things become part of your being and way of life.

 

Some of his quotes shout out to me and are also helped by the fact they came out of his gorgeous mouth!

 

From an interview:

 

'To me, okay, to me, ultimately martial art means honestly expressing yourself. Now it is very difficult to do. It is easy for me to put on a show and be cocky and be flooded with a cocky feeling, then feel like pretty cool and all that. Or I can make all kind of phoney things you see what I mean? Blinded by it all or I can show you some really fancy movement. But to express ones self honestly, not lying to ones self and to express myself honestly now that, my friend, is very hard to do.'

 

“You will never get any more out of this life than you expect.” - Bruce Lee

 

I constantly try in life and on this journal to honestly express myself and in anything, life, art or being, it is extremely difficult to do. I don't think I have ever done it fully and I think we always lie to ourselves in some form one way or another. Bruce, I salute you. You were so cool.

 

In your words, 'You've gotta keep on moving, running water never goes stale.'

 

Lo x

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>> but being a house wife isn't an acceptable career choice for a woman anymore. I feel really stuck and lost in this world of career go getting women. I feel really guilty that I'm not like that as well.

 

Actually i think there is absolutely nothing wrong with that if both husband and wife agree to it and can afford it and are happy with it. But I do believe that if you are in that role, it is vulnerable from the standpoint if you have no career, you need to make sure that your husband is very well insured such that if he dies unexpectedly and before you are able to get retirement income from his pension/govt. assitance, that the insurance pays out enough money to pay off the house and carry you until you are able to find a career.

 

And the reality is that many couples are totally besotted and in love when they marry, but more then 50% eventually divorce for any number of reasons, so it is also not the best idea to have no career to fall back on if you get left in middle age by your husband.

 

So my concern isn't that you can't be a happy person working part time and focusing on your marriage, but that you are already expressing feelings that you're in the doldrums and are having a bit of a let down about your life after devoting yourself intensely to wedding planning and now you've lost focus because you're just in a boring part time office job and not enough to do to keep your mind engaged.

 

If you are artistic by nature, there are lots of careers that you could follow. For example, you could study dancing (legit. dancing, not stripping) and get a teaching degree at the same time, and teach dancing to kids or older people (dancing, not stripping). Or get a degree or training that allows you to work as a personal trainer. Or express your artistic side in other ways. Study art history and work in an art gallery around other artistic types.

 

You are actually in a wonderful position if your husband is willing to support you and allow you the time and money to re-invent your life into a career that is both fulfilling and provides more money than a boring office job.

 

re: the 'seductive velvet underground,' i know it is obviously appealing to you know and you have had some success there which makes you feel good. However, your success in that industry is based on being youthful, and it could be demoralizing and depressing for you when you will no longer get the approval from men because you're seen as too old to appeal to the clientele (and 'old' there is 30+) when younger/newer girls come onto the scene.

 

So if you are still young enough to do it and find it exciting and lucrative, then nothing wrong with pursuing it as long as it is a 'safe' profession for you and you don't fall into the criminal element and worsening drug use or hooking on the side as many of the girls who get into that profession do. And would your husband approve of a switch back into the profession? That would need to be a consideration of course.

 

So my suggestion is that although you find that velvet underground seductive, it is a very limited time option, and it won't be nearly as fun when the approval stops coming, which it will because the appeal to men in stripping is heavily based on your looks and youth. You may have great talent, but nobody really wants an old stripper and many people find them pathetic and the applause could switch to cat-calls when you go onstage.

 

So your short term goals might be earning money thru stripping, but your long term goals need to focus on getting some kind of career now that will support you in 5+ years when you have to leave stripping. Unless of course you do believe you'll be content to be a housewife and have other 'little' jobs like the one you have now. There is nothing wrong at all with that if you and your husband are happy with that, but i suspect you will get very bored and need to find some long-term goals rather than just daydreaming.

Edited by lavenderdove
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Have you considered bellydancing? I've known women who made a profession out of it and eventually teach classes as well.

 

It is still, like most types of performing dance, a career limited by age and youthful beauty, but it has more potential to last longer than stripping (though it may not be as instantly lucrative), and teaching is always a good way to supplement once you become a veteran.

 

I'm interested in your experience with the atmosphere of strip clubs. I suppose a lot depends on the type of club and how "posh" it is, but I've been to a few strip clubs in my time (mostly to accompany male friends, and I also knew a few college students using the money to get through school), and I felt contempt, and reduction of human beings was the predominant sense permeating the airwaves. It was a cold, lonely, angry undertow. The women saw the patrons as pigs, and either had hardened themselves to the circus-ification of their sexuality, or took a narcissistic delight in being in the position of power over their pathetic admirers. I remember going into one of the dressing rooms to use a restroom in there, and the look of scorn, the feeling of coldness, deep shut-offness and lostness, layered in brisk, jarring body language and crude, cold talk was overpowering to me. It was sad and scary.

 

So your account (and the way you've managed to have a completely different experience) intrigues me.

Edited by tiredofvampires
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Bah! I was trying to edit that last post/paragraph and got shut off, so here is what I changed/added (excuse the drafting quality):

 

I'm interested by your experience with the atmosphere of strip clubs. I suppose a lot depends on the type of club and how "posh" it is, but I've been to a few strip clubs in my time (mostly to accompany male friends, and I also knew a few college students using the money to get through school), and I felt a pervasive, all-encompassing contempt, and reduction of human beings was the predominant character of those places. It was a cold, lonely, angry undertow. The women saw the patrons as pigs, and either had hardened themselves to the circus-ification of their sexuality, or took a narcissistic delight in being in the position of power over their pathetic admirers. I remember going into one of the dressing rooms to use a restroom in there, and the looks of scorn, the perfection of self-trained isolation, deep shut-offness and lostness, layered in brusque, jarring body language and crude, unkind talk was overpowering to me. It was sad, depressing, and scary.

 

So your account (and the way you've managed to have a completely different experience) intrigues me. I've been an artist with a particular passion for figure modelling, and the attitude of those settings is like day and night to strip clubs. One is reverential, the other is debasing. I'm not judging people who strip as bad people, but I saw so many troubled souls there, I can't imagine it being sustainable for that reason alone (but that's just me). Art modelling can be well-paid and if you become a well-known model at various universities and other schools with a good reputation, you can make it into quite a busy career. And it has no shelf life -- you can do it until you're as old as you want, and only get more prized with age and experience. It's hard work that artists appreciate for its difficulty, and the more experience you have, the more you can command (especially if you do private sittings). Maybe think about that as well.

Edited by tiredofvampires
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Hi tiredofvampires,

 

Sex work, exotic dancing, lap dancing, pole dancing, stripping - it has many names but it boils down to the same thing. Men, women, or both, paying to see you take your clothes off provocatively.

 

I cannot speak for all strippers and all clubs. Some clubs, especially in London Soho area, are not legitimate clubs and actually house prostitutes dressed up as 'dancers' and are ran by pimps instead of managers. Hollywood and the back alley clubs give genuine gentlemen's clubs a bad name.

 

Myth number one - all strippers are prostitutes or will become prostitutes. In a legitimate club the girls are not prostitutes. No b**w jobs take place for extra cash and no ones taking men by the hand into back rooms. The reason for this is in the UK legitimate clubs are regulated by each borough council. They actually have an undercover cop or council member go in and get a dance every month to make sure nothing is being offered to customers that shouldn't. There is a camera in each booth where each private dance happens and a staff member, normally a girl, sits and watches the CCTV footage all night in live time from each booth. There are bouncers walking around the clubs and usually one bouncer at the pay desk, that is the desk men or women pay at to receive a private dance, which is just outside of the booths.

 

As a dancer, you are not allowed to physically touch a customer. You literally strip around them and the notion of a literal 'lap dance' was stopped in the UK a few years ago. Not only would the girl be dismissed on the spot for prostitution or illegal 'dancing', but the club would be at risk of being shut down. In fact I know a few clubs in the UK that have been shut down simply through undercover council regulation.

 

The dancers are self employed and come and go as they please. Many of the girls have accountants and work at different clubs on different nights depending on which is busiest. They can also arrive and leave when they want. The dancers can refuse to dance for a customer and I myself have done this and many others have often before. They are not there by force and made to dance for every man or woman who walks through the door.

 

The reason I stress man or woman constantly is due to…

 

...Myth number 2 - that only men go to strip bars. 20% of my customers were women and 30% were couples (married, going out or engaged). Couple dances (where the dancer strips for a couple at the same time) are very popular and extremely lucrative as they both pay as a separate customer but have the same allocated time per dance.

 

Each private dance lasts 3 minutes and for this the average charge is £25 (roughly $40). The club takes five pounds (roughly $8) from the girl and the dancer goes home with the rest. It is up to her to pay tax on anything she earns due to being self employed. Many clubs offer a VIP package which means if a man wants to book a block amount of time with a girl, say an hour, he will pay on average between £150 - £300. This mostly includes dancing, flirting and talking. The cost is increased if the customer wants more girls in one booth at the same time.

 

Customers are usually made to take a seat at low tables in the main club and around the dance stage. They receive table service from waitresses. This is because customers are encouraged to stay sat down at their tables in order for the girls walking around to be seen and also to stop large groups of people milling around the club. It's a very controlled environment and usually the manager (in my experience) is a woman herself.

 

Myth number three - all strippers have to be young. Yes, the majority of them are, but I knew a beautiful 38 year old Russian woman called Anna who looked better than most 20 year olds. She had a sophisticated air that men went crazy for, and I'm talking young and old men. She also worked as a nurse during the day. And no, she didn't have a drug habit, she was just a cheeky lady who loved strutting around in her lingerie. In the near three years I worked in selective clubs, some smaller and some much larger, I encountered at least 2 or 3 women out of the 30 that were between 30 - 40. Can I just say to be in a high class club you have to be presentable to a high standard and these women were beautiful regardless of their age.

 

Myth number four - all strippers are stupid. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed but I'm not a complete fool either. A lot of girls I worked with were paying their ways through highly intelligent degrees. Some of them are the most loyal and interesting women you will ever meet who hold no bars in conversation and are open and free spirited about sexuality and sex. Yes, some are dumb and yes, some do drugs, but this does not apply to the majority.

 

I am sorry you had a cold experience with the girls. Like any environment filled with women it becomes a bit of a pack mentality and you end up with a natural hierarchy. The world of the exotic dancer is highly competitive and therefore new dancers normally are unwanted (more competition), and are given the cold shoulder initially. This I admit is cruel, I am so pleased to say I never, ever did this myself and would never act catty over something as stupid as money, but it does happen and it's girl politics all over. You have to navigate your way around it and be tough skinned, and when they realise you're there to stay and be respected, suddenly they start talking to you. If you could have a conversation with a lot of them, you'd probably find them interesting and warm women.

 

Now enough with the facts, I'll get down to the nitty gritty experience.

 

When I was 16 I had this thought in my head that I wanted to be an exotic dancer. I just did. Maybe it was a rebellious thing at the time, I don't know, but I was never going to tell my parents so looking back it can't of been. I felt compelled and obsessively curious about 'that very adult world.'

 

I met D when I was 18 and he is one very open minded and non-jealous guy. He trusts me 100%. He encourage me to try it as long as it was in a legitimate and safe environment. I think he realised just how genuine my curiosity was and when he realising I wasn't joking he supported me. After lots of research into our local club I went for an interview during the day with the female manager L, did a test dance on the pole for her and she asked me a few questions and suddenly I had the job. D told me for my first night he would wait outside in the car for the whole time if I ever changed my mind. He said not to hesitate and he would come and get me. I didn't call or text all night and rushed out at 1am with the biggest smile on my face he's ever seen.

 

I can't describe the interior of a classy, beautiful strip club. Inside these padded walls it is always night and even during the day all signs of the outside world are muffled until they disappear. You are inside a plush, mirrored womb and the heating is always high. There was a main stage at the back of the room which in the centre stood a 12 foot pole. Mirrored, dark tables were scattered around the floor area with a raised bar which you had to climb a few crushed glass steps to get too. Cute waitresses wore waist coats and short skirts and would bring drinks on shiny trains to seated customers. The music was always sexy and low. You could easily have a conversation over any song playing from the dj booth, unless a dancer was on the main stage, which was every half an hour, then the music would conceal anyones voices and demand everyones focus to the girl on that raised platform.

 

The back booths were hung with heavy, dark red velvet curtains and each housed a semi-circle of high backed, velvet booth seats. I remember my first night walking into a lit dressing room full of naked and half naked girls, laughing and moaning and chatting and putting on make-up and flicking their hair. No one talked to me when I first started and I got changed in silence. It was tough but I somehow got it as soon as I walked in, I knew what they were all thinking and I didn't take it personally. Okay, so it's not your first day at the office, it's your first day in the lion's den, but as a new cub you have to stick it and then slowly but surely you're part of the tribe.

 

A few girls spoke to me and asked me my name once the night went on. All the girls jewels would sparkle in the dark lighting and I remember thinking they were the most beautiful women on this planet, all here in an alternative heaven where god kept his cheeky, liberated angels with perfect t**s. Feminists please, do not cover your face in horror, in this world I have never seen so much body confidence and female sexuality liberated and celebrated in one house of sin.

 

The thing I learnt that night is that people spend their whole lives telling a lie. I encountered men who had come from office jobs and finally, they got to indulge in their secret desire, their stuffy daytime nature falling away into relaxed flirting and drinking. Life is not serious in the plush little underground, and rule number one is that you never ask a customer about work. People go there to forget and live a fantasy they can never achieve in their normal lives. We played dream girls because we aren't real. No matter how tired you felt or how lazy you were, that night you were a goddess and an expected one at that. No customer is going to pay for a girl to whine and moan all night about how fat her thighs are or how she's 'not in the mood' - thats for his girlfriend to do or all the other women in his life. For that night you're the ideal woman in the perfect world and by god, you are sexy. And yes, you sell your sex. You can look but you can't touch. Strictly. And therefore the life of an exotic dancer is simply all about the tease. You suggest sex but you never give it. The best stripper is the woman who can make the man she's dancing for believe she wants him, and I will tell you now, men will pay money to prolong that illusion until their credit card is maxed out and they have to walk home.

 

You would think maybe after working as a dancer I would have a low opinion of men and women. The opposite is actually true. Out of all my experiences of yes, drunk men who make bad comments and yes, catty dancers, but generally men are vunerable and just as sensitive and insecure as women. We are part counsellor, part illusion for one night only.

 

I started to get regulars who would come in to just see me. They'd pay hundreds of pounds to talk to me for an hour. They'd buy a bottle of champagne and sit with me in a private booth and spill their lives to me. I would sit there in designer lingerie that was still on my body and listen to each individual saga. They all went the same. All they wanted was a woman, attention, love. They either weren't getting it from their wives or girlfriends, or felt they'd given up on women as most were unavailable or unattainable. Maybe you will say it was wrong of me to sip champagne and be paid to listen to a depressed man, but in a way I used them and they used me. We're all consenting adults.

 

So here goes, the mystery of the actual lap dance. How does it feel to be the woman dancing and eventually stripping for a stranger? Well, that stranger wants you and it's obvious. We won't go into detail, but I'm sure you can imagine heavy breathing and some other physical signs. I will let you into one secret - I loved it. I got off on the tease. I would come home genuinely excited to D, and whether the sun was coming up or not I would f**k his brains out. I genuinely loved the tease and therefore I was a good dancer. What makes someone good at something? They love what they do, and I loved it.

 

D would often sneak into the club and catch me dancing on the main stage. I have and probably never will see him more turned on.

 

I was 19 when I started and not your typical dancer stereotype. I wasn't blonde, I wasn't tanned, I didn't have fake t**s and I didn't have veneer teeth. I was a pale, skinny, softly spoken red head with a few freckles on her nose. I didn't pile on the make-up. My look was retro - cat wing eye liner and red lipstick. I wore lace lingerie and velvet chokers, stockings, sky scraper ankle strap heels and always had my nails painted red. Not all customers go in for the same thing and everyone has different tastes. We had a beautiful exotic black girl who was absolutely stunning, a Russian sex kitten and a variety of lovely women from curvy tall and small. A delectable smorgasbord board of women.

 

Rewind to being 18, the first time I ever stepped into the world of the upper class gentleman's club was when I was with D as a customer. I'm genuinely bi-sexual and we got three couples dances. I must say I was addicted and intoxicated by the women there at the time. I wasn't naive, I knew at the end of the day it was a job, but I have experience as a patron and a dancer and can vouch for both experiences.

 

I say job, but in my experience being a stripper is a seductive profession. You have to be professional. The men who go in there often have a lot of money. They don't want to pay to sit and talk to a girl who has nothing to say and is some simple bubble head. A lot of them went not only for the vision of flesh but for flirtatious and intelligent conversation.

 

So down to the pennies - whats the cold hard cash like? Well, I was 19, worked 5 hours each night and worked three nights. Thats 15 hours a week. I made on average £900 a week working 15 hours. Thats about $1,400 a week. Thats roughly £3,600 a month, or $5,900. This is excluding tips and drinks bought for me. I never bought my own drinks all night. My salary at 19 warranted an accountant and no one knew why I always had money. Do you want to know the crazy part? I would genuinely of done it for minimum wage.

 

There is a quote by my favourite philosopher of all time, Bruce Lee, and it goes something like this…

 

'If I tell you I'm good, you would probably think I'm boasting. If I tell you I'm no good, you know I'm lying.'

 

I was a pretty good dancer and I was one of the best. I never worked in a huge club where the potential for earning mega bucks was eye watering. No, I didn't ever get a patron ask to buy me some fake t**s, yes, I got asked out by a professional boxer and a lot of other goo goo eyed boys who had probably had a little bit too much to drink. Yes, the boxer waited outside for me to finish in his Maserati and don't worry, I was always chaperoned to my car by a bouncer. He came back for a few months and tried to persuade me on dates. I never went. I was in love with D.

 

If you think I did it to feel empowered or validated by men, then I must object. I already had a stable relationship and by this point had lived with D for a year. I did it because I loved it and I was and am a horny, glamour seeking hot blooded female who thrived in that environment.

 

I can never really begin to describe this secret world that so many know so little about. Yes, I speak of the higher class clubs which are heavily restricted and regulated. Not everything was a bunch of roses and I can name some times men spoke out of line or tried to touch me (I had them thrown out). I'm not some model type beautiful, I'm not Kate Moss. I'm quite unusual looking and elegant rather than obscene. The main thing all the women had there was confidence and by god, do you need it. You face rejection as well as obsession every night you worked and men will turn you away. I feel like I know how it is to be a man in a sea of women finding the courage to go up and talk to one of them, because I did it every weekend for nearly three years in reverse.

 

I am of the understanding that no one should belittle this profession of seduction. Like any job where the pay is high, it's high for a reason, and that reason is not everyone can do it. There are challenges and you have to have a deep sense of inner confidence and self belief to not crumble under pressure. You cannot have an off day and it takes a certain type of personality to do what I did.

 

Just for the record - I was not abused, I have never done any drugs in my life (not even smoked pot or tobacco!), I do not have daddy issues, I have never sold myself for sex and I am not self obsessed. I came from a regular middle class family and went to a normal school.

 

I hope this is enough insight into my brief encounter with the world of sexual fantasy as a profession. If you have had an alternative experience, I do stand by the reason that it was a bad club with no real class.

 

Lo x

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That was a pretty good read.

 

Yeah, the club(s) that I have been to are not high class gentleman's clubs. You're right about that. They were your average hole-in-the-brick joint with flashing neon signs outside, "Girls," that are on every block in my current neighborhood (though my experiences were many years ago, in my 20's.) And I would say that those kinds of strip joints probably outnumber the elite men's clubs by a large margin, if you were to count up all the exotic dance establishments in the country, in all the backwater little towns and congested cities like mine taken together.

 

So what you say might be quite true for the types of women and men that work in or patronize the places you're referring to. But nor am I convinced that that experience typifies the average exotic dancer's work life and scene. Nor do I get a sense that YOU are typical for the world of exotic dance. Of course, there is so much I don't know about this world, and I'm not going to speak as someone who knows its ins and outs, especially when as you've concurred, the quality of the establishment and who it attracts for work or patronage is the difference between a seedy dump and glamorous fantasy for all involved. I'm just saying that the reality I've experienced, which probably represents a majority chunk of the industry, left me feeling quite alienated in a kind of sympathetically attuned way that was very disquieting, to say the least.

 

I'm by no means saying that's the only experience, and clearly, as I said, yours was different, owing to a different environment and life history.

 

My main connection for a time to this scene was a woman I knew from other spheres -- she was the local chapter president of the National Organization for Women, getting her master's degree in Women's Studies. So, hardly anti-feminist. I would hardly stereotype anyone doing what she did (stripping) as being stupid or ditzy. She was one smart, confident, vocal cookie. And sure she was interesting. But would I call her "warm"? Hell no. In fact, the word "hard" is probably the best over-riding word I could find for her and everyone else in that circle I was briefly introduced to. In a funny, ironic way, their world almost seemed one of female chauvinism. I remember driving her and her roommate (probably also her sometime lover) home from one gig in particular, and the centerpiece of the conversation was how this or that customer or client was a joke, in some way or other. Their mockery was so tangible it made my flesh crawl. At one point, they went into a discussion of their personal escapades, and had quite a laugh over how one of them had so well-exercised her crotch, she was able to bruise a guy in the "vice", causing him to howl in pain during sex. I'm not entirely sure if they were in some ways trying me out on the shock value, but either way, it didn't come out making them look like the kinds of people who get kicks the way I do. Yet the whole time, they spoke about how liberating it was to be so confident. Something there didn't wash for me. (And I think I'd like to add...in service of total honesty, I think feeling "empowered" and "validated" by men is inseparable from enjoying the feelings of being a sex goddess and providing a fantasy. If it wasn't empowering and validating, it wouldn't be the high that it is, as I sense it. Feeling sexy is empowering and validating, whatever your relationship status or emotional constitution otherwise.)

 

On an odd incidental side note, I knew another girl who I'd call more of a friend, whom I had much longer and greater contact with, who at one point got into stripping partly to fund school, partly just for the novelty. She actually was a principal dancer in a major "legit" dance company that is widely celebrated here. This was her secret double-life for a while...and she was a petite redhead with freckles as well. Very much with the slight, pale-skinned physique you describe of yourself. I never saw her perform, but I heard that her act included lots of red lipstick and doll-like clothing. She was one of the most creative, quirky, fascinating, independent, bright, sensitive, well-read, artistic girls I've ever known. But she was equally emotionally unreliable, capricious, and enigmatic. I wonder where she is today and sometimes think about her. She was such a character, it's hard to imagine her living a stable life even to this day. So...even though she wasn't hardened like the other girls I'd encountered, there was an element of remoteness and disconnection about her.

 

I'm just relating my own experiences, and clearly they are different from the world you've be working in. I think we agree that the quality of the venue has everything to do with the experience. I wouldn't quarrel with any of the myth-busting you've laid out for us here (and yes, I've seen older strippers -- even ones not in the best shape. As you know, they're the exception, not the rule, but they're out there -- the lucky ones.) I was talking more to what I feel is probably a very common and pervasive alternate experience.

 

I'm glad you've managed to avoid these pitfalls, and have found it to be a positive experience, for the most part. There's a place for every profession in this world, and who knows, maybe this really is your "calling". Some people do this (or even prostitution) for years, then write memoirs, making wads of money in the doing. Given your apparent flair for writing, maybe that would be in your future at some point.

 

I was just offering some alternative ideas, which I think are viable, classy, and make use of your assets.

 

I was thinking this might provide some of the stimulation you're after without the downsides I've witnessed, but if what you're doing has no major downsides and is more lucrative and enjoyable, to each his/her own.

Edited by tiredofvampires
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Actually, on second thought, I can think of some professions that I don't believe there are a place for in this world. But those topics are somewhat verboten on here, lol. And beside the point.

 

Hi tiredofvampires,

 

Can I just say I am absolutely loving going back and forth with you on this. I appreciate your non-judgemental take on this and your open mind to others experiences.

 

I could talk to you all day long about this and still find something new to say. I could tell you about the eccentric customers, about the good customers, about the bad customers, about the very young customers, about the very old customers, about the poor customers and about the extremely wealthy customers. I dealt with (mostly) men and women at their most honest and vulnerable and can say human nature is amazing.

 

I am truly sorry you experienced such a vile set of dancers. I will admit, when talking about a large group of people or a profession as a whole, I need to generalise, therefore I will say the catty nature of women at it's worst comes out especially in a large group of women.

 

This is not restricted to the world of exotic dance. You will find it from being 5 and in a classroom when the hot one takes your pencil case and laughs, to being in an office and looking at the water cooler to realise a womans talking about you. What I have found is once they no longer see you as a threat, this falls away. Also, once you become a true friend, they can no longer dish out this kind of behaviour. It comes out of insecure girls and these girls are girls, because women do not stoop so low.

 

I accept your point regarding validation with open arms and will say yes, for the majority of dancers it is an addictive massage for their ego's. I can say I take both a compliment and an insult with a pinch of salt. I could receive a hundred compliments a day and yet if I feel ugly, I will still feel ugly, regardless of how many compliments I get. All my life I have sought validation from one person and one person only, and that's myself. I am my own worst critic, enemy and most negative voice. No amount of praise from friends, strangers, bosses or teachers will change this for me, therefore external validation is nice, but not the main thing.

 

You can never forget that through the smoke screen of flirtations and seduction there lies a simple transaction, and both the dancer and the customer is usually aware of this. Once you fall under the illusion it is something more, or take a self inflated view of what goes on between a dancer and a customer, you're not being honest with yourself. This is fun, adult entertainment between two consenting adults and nothing more.

 

I thank you for your kind worlds, really, you're too sweet - but I don't think I'm particularly unusual for a dancer. I will say I am observant though. Other dancers come in, work, then go home without looking around. I immersed myself in that world like any other world, lifestyle or profession I find myself in and really took a mental note.

 

Okay so, you have the crazy stereotypical dancer. The group of girls I worked with were unusually great and we all had a very strong bond over time. Am I unstable? Probably slightly. I am kookie, strangely introverted, most likely have at least a touch of OCD and experience mood swings and thrill seeking. Am I any more messed up than your average human walking the street? I guess if you were to select a random person and ask them all their weaknesses and problems a psychologist could label them with some issues and happily prescribe medication. I have never been to a therapist and feel mentally fine on the whole, as much as anyone probably does. Surgeons and people in the financial sector are most likely to be psychopaths, lap dancers are most likely to be b*****s? There's a grain of truth in it somewhere.

 

The dancers you knew probably shot some bravado because they're insecure. People who come accross as hard and awful normally, if you get to know them, have lovely qualities and normally a sadness in their lives which explains their behaviour. I'm not saying everyone is great and we should accept anyone who's being a d**k, but it takes more strength to be soft and gentle than to be hard and cold. Everyone is weak in some way and everyone has strengths.

 

There are dives full of desperate dancers in awful conditions. Asking me to explain what it's like for the majority of exotic dancers is like asking me to describe the experience of eating an organic, whole range chicken, and then asking the person who cleans up the chicken's s**t whilst it's still alive to describe the same experience. We both know what a chicken looks like but the versions will be completely different. I worked for a club that housed the top 10% of strip clubs, I can't really vouch for anything else.

 

The next time you go into a strip bar, either with your boyfriend or with a girlfriend, none of the dancers will approach you. If some do, it will only be a few out of the 20 or so that are there. The dancers pre-judge the girl before she's even sat down. They do this for one of two reasons:

 

1. The girls just there out of duty to try and prove to her boyfriend that she's 'cool' and okay with it.

2. She's here to ridicule the dancers.

 

It's not fair and it's not always true, but I will say quite honestly that the worst insults and language I ever experience were from female customers. I have been called a w***e to my face by a girl and I have had my figure verbally attacked (I know I have no t**s, thanks). The base line is, women can suck, and the most hateful judgement doesn't come from men, it comes from other women. These past experiences sometimes explain the icy stares women as customers get shot. They never think the girl might be into it, curious or there to have a good time. I am not excusing what those dancers did, but it's something to bare in mind.

 

So next time you're in a strip club, break the mould, because it's fun and unexpected. Go get a drink and then go up to the dancer who's wearing the dress or lingerie set you like the most, and tell her you love her dress. Watch her melt. She probably thought you were going to look down on her.

 

Lo x

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Maybe the clubs are different in the UK than they are here. I went to a strip club once when I was with my ex. He and his friend were with me, I wasn't alone. It was girls-only too, no male strippers, which I think is a good thing because I've heard that male strippers are very handsy and I think that's gross. Anyway, I was very nice to the girls and I made a point of giving each of them (there were about 4-5) a couple dollars each so no one would feel "left out", lol. Seriously, I divided up my dollar bills and made sure each got about the same amount. I complimented them on their outfits and told them that I thought they were really beautiful and they were really nice to me in return and told me that I was beautiful and I just smiled widely back. I was quite large at the time, about 60-70 lb heavier, and the girls were wary at first but then they could soon see that I wasn't going to berate them because that's not my style. It's their job. W****s are the ones who flirt and try to pick up married/attached men in the real world, you know? They were all really nice to me. I actually got more "action" than my ex (who was kind to them as well but he was reserved) and his friend (Mr. PIG) in terms of attention and whatnot, even though his friend threw down more money, which I thought was hilarious. ("Ha, I'm a female and get more female attention than you!") I think that's because I wasn't being a pig and treating them poorly. Just a thought.

 

My ex got a private dance. He let me pick the stripper. The one I wanted to pick (she was beautiful and was the kindest to me) was busy with someone else so I had to pick someone else. She was pretty too but had a bit of a 'tude. Oh well. I put the money in her hand and I said "my bf wants a private dance. Take care of him okay?" and I smiled and she smiled back. He was gone for about 10-15 min, which I guess was standard. He told me what happened later and to be honest, it didn't sound that interesting or provocative. No, he wasn't lying to me either.

 

Would I go again? No, I don't think so. There are a lot of troubled souls in the area. I understand that some do it for the money (to fund college or drugs, or whatever) some just like the attention, I don't know, it's not something I really care to support. It wasn't the girls that grossed me out - it was the clients. Most men there had wedding rings on and they would come alone or with friends and pay for private dances. I didn't feel comfortable being around that. That made me really uncomfortable...isn't that weird? Lol.

 

The women were very nice looking and all but yeah, not something I'd do again, although I don't regret going in the least.

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Actaully, if you go back to her previous post before this one and reread it, your experinece makes a ton of sense. First, you weren't on the inside, so they were hard towards you. And second, they were women drunk on power - that's what they had, and they loved the expeirence. As boyish as they sound, their behavior is rather common amongst males after going out...

 

 

 

I dare say they Are women, not girls, but only because as I get older I've come to realize our mental brain boxes stop chainging after about five or six. We may add things to adapt to our adult world, but hte forces at play under the carpet are the exact same issues we dealt with when we were on the playground - and we're no better at dealing with those issues now then we were back then. So they are women, like men, but what we both understand as being "immature." But then, true maturity is a very rare condition, most people don't have it.

 

 

 

Oh, but it makes perfect sense. You cheated the system, can't you see? The system has that declared you as a woman CANNOT make your living by selling your body! To prove your worth, you have to do something "productive," or "respectable," or "clean." You went and did the obvious, you sold your body, and you LOVE Doing it! And you have experienced more power in your few hours than they have ever felt in their life...

 

$5900 a month, $70,800 a year, and you started with no experience, no resume, no degrees, nothing but your body and your internal drive to do it? Rock on...

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They were all really nice to me. I actually got more "action" than my ex (who was kind to them as well but he was reserved) and his friend (Mr. PIG) in terms of attention and whatnot, even though his friend threw down more money, which I thought was hilarious. ("Ha, I'm a female and get more female attention than you!") I think that's because I wasn't being a pig and treating them poorly. Just a thought.

 

Fudgie,

 

I am glad you had an good experience with the girls. Working there as a female, you get a lot of stick from other females and it's not restricted to work time either. I kept my job a secret for a few reasons, but once I told a few female friends the range of reactions were quite surprising. Others were curious, some thought it was amazing and others were probably disgusted. I got quite a lot of nasty, negative comments from girls I'd gone to school with which by this time I couldn't have given two f***s about but they still felt they had a right to insult me. I don't judge anyone on their life choices and couldn't see where this hatred was coming from when what I was doing affected them in no way what so ever.

 

Thanks for the input by the way, interesting take.

 

Lo x

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Lonewing,

 

Thanks for the reply. I did genuinely love doing it and only stopped when my parents found out (very long story).

 

There is a bit of a sexual revolution going on in Europe and probably in most of the Western world with my generation and the generation below me which makes the 60's look like an afternoon drinking tea. I find the most prejudice comes from a lot of older people who still hold old fashioned values when it comes to sex. Try and talk to them about threesomes, bi-sexual relationships and open relationships and they implode. It's something happening in modern society and it's extremely freeing and liberating for women.

 

Lo x

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couldn't see where this hatred was coming from when what I was doing affected them in no way what so ever.

 

You debased their currency by putting a tangible number on it, which is another way of saying, you took all the guess work out of how much the boys needed to spend to see you naked.

They were probably mad that their boys are off looking at naked bodies that aren't their own, and you were just adding to "the problem" by providing a supply, there's still a ton of vitrol out there about boyfriends and husbands looking at porn.

 

We are in very turbulent times, I agree on this.

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'D'

 

From the moment I saw you I knew I had to have you, had to love you and that I'd always need you. It's irrational and something no amount of words will ever be able to explain.

 

You are a true gentleman. A man of his word, a man of his values. You always speak your mind. You are a strong rock in my sea of change. You are quietly confident amongst conflict and you are gentle when others are rough.

 

You know me more than I know myself. I cannot hide from you. You know my thoughts before I have even thought them. You are my biggest fan, my only supporter. A compliment from you is rare and precious, spoken little but meaning a lot.

 

You are beautiful - a gorgeous man. You do not preen and fuss, vanity and jealousy are not part of your world. You are an innovator and a free thinker, an entrepreneur who makes his own path and doesn't look back even though others doubt you.

 

You always rise to any occasion and you defend me when I cannot defend myself. You support others and they turn to you for help. You won't be played like a fool and you won't suffer fools.

 

You refuse to put me on a pedestal even though you secretly would do anything for me. I always get my own way without knowing it and you always strive to make me happy.

 

You are effortlessly romantic and your small gestures everyday make me smile on the regular. I think about you all the time, I need you all the time, you are my favourite person, my best friend, my hero, my lover and my soul mate.

 

I love the way your broad shoulders feel like wood. I love the way you smile and your cheeks dimple slightly at the sides of your mouth. I love your blue eyes and your mucky blonde hair. I love the three day stubble on your cheeks. I love the dark hair on your chest. I love the way you throw me on the bed. I love the way I sometimes catch you looking at me. I love the way you sleep with your mouth half open like a child. I love the way you slurp your cereal and care so little for table manners. I love the way you drive and I love the way your hand and slender wrist look resting on the gear stick. I love the way you breathe during sex. I love the way you curl your foot around mine even if we're back to back in bed. I love how you like to show me off. I love the way you refuse to dance. I love the way you take care of me. I love the way you protect me.

 

I adore you. I need you. I love you. I would die for you.

 

I can't believe someone like you would marry me. Giving me a chance is the biggest risk you'll ever take, but I know you only bet on what you know will win, and me and you can never lose.

 

You're so cool.

 

Yours,

 

Lolita x

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There are two kinds of sufferers in this world:

 

those who suffer from a lack of life

 

and those who suffer from an overabundance of life.

 

I've always found myself in the second category.

 

When you come to think of it,

 

almost all human behavior and activity

 

is not essentially any different from animal behavior.

 

The most advanced technologies and craftsmanship

 

bring us, at best, up to the super-chimpanzee level.

 

Actually, the gap between,

 

say, Plato or Nietzsche and the average human

 

is greater than the gap between that chimpanzee and the average human.

 

The realm of the real spirit,

 

the true artist, the saint, the philosopher,

 

is rarely achieved.

 

Why so few?

 

Why is world history and evolution not stories of progress,

 

but rather this endless and futile addition of zeroes?

 

No greater values have developed.

 

Hell, the Greeks years ago were just as advanced as we are.

 

So what are these barriers that keep people

 

from reaching anywhere near their real potential?

 

The answer to that can be found in another question, and that's this:

 

Which is the most universal human characteristic...

 

fear or laziness?

 

- Waking Life, 2001.

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Simply chilling with a gin and tonic listening to Tupac low on the sound system.

 

Evening has always been one of my favourite times for many reasons. I love lighting candles and I love the black cover of the sky with only the glow of the moon for natural light. There's something all engulfing, calming even, about night falling to replace the day. Today has died and so has all the mistakes and worries to be lost in the dark - a promise of a new day with new beginnings. In times like these I can't help but let any insignificant worries melt away and be overwhelmed by the beauty of this evening.

 

I feel lucky, no, privileged; to be alive right now witnessing this beautiful night.

 

Many more people could have been born in my place. The next Mozart, the next Einstein, but here I am in all my humble imperfections being able to understand how small I am in the scheme of this planet but how poetic it is that I am here to bask in this lovely time I have been given. No matter what life throws at me it is undoubtably precious.

 

So hear this, next time I go on record and start complaining for all the problems in my life, that things that aren't quite right - to remember that I'm here, I'm alive and I'm lucky.

 

We only have one life and lately I've realised it's too short to be negative. Too many people fill their lives with worry, hatred, judgement and negativity. I refuse to look back on my life to know I wasted years not appreciating what I had before it was too late.

 

Sometimes you've got to do what makes you happy and forget the rest. You have one life and one life only, it's your's to do what you want with - now thats empowerment. Life is best lived, so be alive. Don't let anyone tell you you can't do something. Don't let anyone put you down. The negative people never move forward in their lives, they stay sat in the same place repeating the same things to die in the same chair never knowing what it's like to truly be free. Once you shake off the shackles of expectation and be what you want to be, you'll know true happiness.

 

Go to sleep to dream and wake up to love.

 

Lo x

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D left for business in London at 5am this morning. I threw on a gown and went down to his car to quickly take out some left over water bottles and crisp packets. I love the contrast from my side to his - one blueberry health bar packet and an empty water bottle on my side - he has three left over cans of full fat red bull and a lonely bag of skips. Part of me can't let him go away in a messy car.

 

He employs our close friend and photographer part time to photograph his stuff (natural history curiosities, antiques, etc) to go onto his website. C also does a lot of other jobs that D would normally get me to do or waste time on himself. As the old saying goes, most of us are too busy working to make money. He's really impractical when distracted and goes into a panic if he has more than three things on a list to do that need instant attention. It's strange, but he's great at coming up with ideas and making money but terrible with all the little practicalities of running a business. I should really be helping with his admin but my organisational skills are nearly as bad as his are.

 

I couldn't get back to sleep after having cold air hit me and browsed online for an hour. I was really tempted to put some chilled house music on low and make myself a peppermint tea, but ended up pulling the covers back over me and falling asleep with the laptop askew at the end of the bed.

 

I'm kind of house bound today but I don't mind much. I have a gas safety check appointment today via our landlord but they can never give you a set time. Hopefully two hunks in boiler suits will be arriving between 12 noon and 6 pm. I should maybe make a scoot for the shop to pick up some milk before they arrive but I've started running a bath and have to stick with that important commitment.

 

I have to give myself a silent pat on the back as I've been eating super healthy for nearly a week now.

 

I'm sitting as a nude model for a famous british sculpture artist in the next few weeks and wanted to nip and tuck a few minor problem areas. At the moment I stand about 5'5'' and weight 110lbs, or 7 stone 12lbs. Ideally I'd like to be 100lbs and super trim, not just for this gig but for Christmas. I feel better in clothes around this weight and when the Christmas parties roll around and I want to slip into that little velvet dress it helps not having to pull it down and wiggle around all night feeling bloated.

 

Yesterday I was a very good girl and my menu read like this:

 

AM - arabic coffee with fully skimmed milk, a berocca vitamin drink and a 0% fat Greek yoghurt (65cals) and a banana.

LUNCH - two free range scrambled eggs with sea salt on one slice of unbuttered, brown seeded bread with a cup of herbal tea.

SNACK - one bag of diet crisps.

PM - mixed bean soup with a hand full of rice crackers and a mixture of melon for dessert.

 

Today I've started off with scrambled eggs again after waking up later than usual. Any chocolate cravings have been squashed with a cup of diet white or dark hot chocolate, and at only 40 calories per mug it's perfect and totally guilt free. I am kind of feeling a slight amount of pressure to keep this up for as long as I can and maybe throw some exercise at the gym in with it, especially swimming. I'm really lucky because D paid up front for us to both have a years membership at a lovely gym with a steam room, large spa pool, jacuzzi and a truly beautiful pool thats dim lit and surrounded by potted palm trees. I went before work once and even though I felt tired it was a really lovely way to start the day. I feel so much better for eating right as well, I can't believe the difference.

 

I've been using this caffeine infused body tonic which is supposed to tone the skin and minimise any cellulite. I don't know whether it's wishful thinking but even after a week of use I feel like my skin looks much better - glowing in fact.

 

I have a whole day off to self indulge with only myself to entertain. I'm not sure what to do. I know I have a few things I should be sorting out and a few chores to do - ironing for the end of the week for work. The main thing I'm really procrastinating over is revising my CV. I really need to get this done as I'm applying for a different job at a insurance firm. God, it sucks being normal. Things like CV's don't come easy to me and I am very conscious of treading the line between being humble and being an obvious cringe worthy big head. I hate all the usual phases as well… team work this, team work that… even I don't believe it for one second so I doubt any employer does. I'm just gonna go through the motions as with any interview and hope for the best.

 

Surprisingly I have a lot to put on a CV - I got nearly straight A's throughout secondary school and came out with A's at A Level. I don't feel any smarter for it though, I feel it's a false judge of intelligence. I have practically no common sense, make dumb mistakes all the time and have a hard time concentrating. Not exactly something you put in the opening passage of your CV but, thats the honest truth.

 

Thinking of the positive, I can't wait to wear a new pencil skirt I bought to the office tomorrow. It's dark cherry red and has a frilled trim all around the waist. I think a nice crisp shirt is in order. At least if I can't have fun doing my job I'll at least have fun enjoying my outfit all day.

 

Winter's really creeping in and I love it. The temperature dropped even more over the weekend and everyones wearing a coat now. The fun fair comes to our high street around this time and I can't wait to go out on a Saturday night and have a sugar doughnut with all our friends and then throw it back up on a ride, ha! I've put out an invite to all our closest friends - everyone to come back to ours for a few drinks after the fair. We have a self enclosed cobbled yard at the rear of our apartment with an old well at the bottom (covered over of course). I'm going to hang fairy lights and tea lights from the tree's and have a small fire pit there so everyone can head back after the fair for a drink outside while they're still wrapped up. I love throwing a party. Again, clothes on my mind, I'm too excited to wear a beige fur jacket D bought me at an antique fair (it's not real fur, don't worry). It's so unbelievably warm and stylish. I think I could be throwin' back doughnuts in the Arctic in it and still not feel a chill.

 

I really want to save some cash in general, but especially for D's Christmas present. I know he's been after a certain thing for a long time but wouldn't let me get him it due to the cost. I want to surprise him. It's one of those gifts you kind of have to be a man to pick so I'm going to have to do some sneaky research and ask him without asking him if you get my drift! I don't want to order the wrong thing.

 

Man, I can't wait till he's back tomorrow. I'm going to go through my lingerie draw and pick out a set he hasn't seen yet so I can surprise him when he's back. I think if I grill him a steak at the same time he'll explode with happiness! I guess a FaceTime call will do today whilst he's driving. I might dress up for it… oh, this old thing? Sugar, please!

 

Times like these when I'm just daydreaming and mulling about the future I wish I had friends who lived nearby. If we lived in the suburbs somewhere at least I'd have neighbours. I seem to always revert back to my past a lot and really need to focus on looking ahead.

 

We're seriously looking into buying next year and went for a drive to the midlands yesterday to look at a very green beautiful area which is still only 10 minutes into the city. I just adored the vibe there, driving around with our music on cruising around and looking at all the houses. It was bustling, with students and people on the go, I fell in love with the atmosphere. And outside the city in the housing estates full of old terrace houses lined with tree's, couples were walking hand in hand and joggers going back and forth accross the parks.

 

Time for another low fat low everything coffee, I need to shift myself today.

 

Lo x

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"Now, a staple of the superhero mythology is, there's the superhero and there's the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spider-Man is actually Peter Parker. When that character wakes up in the morning, he's Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spider-Man. And it is in that characteristic Superman stands alone. Superman didn't become Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he's Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the big red "S", that's the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears - the glasses, the business suit - that's the costume. That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent? He's weak... he's unsure of himself... he's a coward. Clark Kent is Superman's critique on the whole human race." Bill - Kill Bill Vol. 2

 

'Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.' - Oscar Wilde

 

'Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.' - Oscar Wilde

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  • 1 month later...

Today was my last day at the office.

 

It's not my last day at an office, just 'the' office. That one. Be careful what you wish for. I got what I wanted, and better than ever. I feel a biitersweet void washing over me thats almost leaving me breathless, on the verge of a constant sigh.

 

A lot has changed over the last few months. I haven't been writing on here at all. Too much going on and I've become disillusioned with the whole idea of writing publicly on here. Don't want to sound tortured, so Malheur à moi , je suis un artiste! But the general vibe of this whole portal, this site, ENA, leaves me completely dissapointed.

 

So I'm going to continue this journal for a while, give or take on my behalf, without want for a response or any kind of opinion from the general public. I'm not in this to make myself look better, feel better. I'm not here to write about how good my life is when I'm feeling low, or how horrible my life is when I'm feeling high - I'm not here to make myself something I'm not. My honestly is unabashed and only my spelling mistakes are edited. I will not re-write and re-paragraph, life is not like that and neither should this journal.

 

I know some of you reading this find the idea of me hateful or even repulsive. You may not even like me, even though you don't know me. Well, everyone has the right to an opinion. It's those people who I don't like the idea of reading my most intimate thoughts, because I only share because it's theraputic. I don't write to be secretly mocked and spied on by boring, aging nobodies who feel so smug in their couches when they sit and watch TV for hours on end or get into work everyday early. I don't give a fig about their overly pompous, holier than thou judgement. On being scorned by a lady, "Sir! You are drunk!" Winston Churchil replied, "And you, Bessie, are ugly. But I shall be sober in the morning, and you will still be ugly."

 

I like the idea of spilling to strangers in this weird universal internet space I will never understand - but still, those little sneaky peepers… I know who you are. It's a free country, so I'm carrying on my feeling splurge for today, regardless of any silent hate reading that undoubtly goes on. Read on if you can even be bothered by now. It's going to jump about a lot today, my minds doing mental hopscotch and my train of thought keeps throwing the stone.

 

So back to today, and my little spot in the little office. A strange melancholy slowly snuck in after I handed in my notice. 4 weeks, exactly.

 

It's a long story, one which is too boring even for here (even though I do ramble out some boring stuff, but hey, it's realism). So my lovely, lovely colleague, the older and direct W suggested I hand in my CV to her daughter who works in recruitment at a huge international construction consultancy company. That's two jobs she's got me now. I owe her big time.

 

It was one of those strange movie moments where the interview was so horribly dull and uninspiring… the main character, you can't believe their bumbling, they'll never get it! Oh and they say the stupidest things! Then the boss rings them up and offers them a bigger salary by far than they mentioned in the initial interview. In this life kids, it's not what you know, it's who you know, as the old saying goes.

 

I get life insurance, private health care, free travel insurance, a chunky pay rise every year, 25 days holiday plus bank holidays, only a 37.5 hour working week, a lift to work every morning with the idea of a company car if I stay on, all the free training I can take and a paid for Christmas party with accommodation for myself and my husband on their behalf. Flabberghasted.

 

But still, cries the pessimistic, the inner dancer and creative inside me, it's not the job you want! It's not good enough!

 

I always dreamed of a job like this. Something normal, lovely, entirely respectable with a respectable salary. Something that will help me and D get a mortage. I can properly contribute. Now I have it, am on the cusp of the b*****d, the nonchalance is coming in waves. The grass must be greener, and I haven't even seen my new lawn yet. I am already eyeing up my neighbours.

 

I sat in my old overly bright office for an hour by myself whilst everyone was out on viewings. The final hour. Pitch black outside on the high street at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Rain splashing as cars pass through, a few distant voices on the street, a few blurred shop lights through our window. An empty desk. It was as if I'd never been there. A naked hook where my certificate used to hang. Vacant drawers. So sad. I was hit with it all in a final, lonely hour.

 

I complained, hell did I complain, and yet all I can feel is a sadness to leave the known. I find myself clinging hopelessly to the last dregs of the regular day to day… the way my top drawer opens with a smooth slide and shuts with a bang. The way my biro is always resting on the top of the keyboard, chewed at the end. My phone, angled just so. My perspex paper tray. Even throwing out my scribbled, cardboard calendar was heart wrenching. I even took a photo of my desk, just to remember. Hopeless and totally pathetic.

 

As Morrissey said, and says it much better than I could ever, 'A half life dies today.'

 

My boss gave me an absolutely glowing, practically nuclear reference. He shook my hand, then embraced me and couldn't thank me enough. He said he was sad to see me go, so disappointed, and that I would have to pop in Christmas Eve for a drink. He said he had something he needs to drop over to the apartment tomorrow to say thank you. I could feel a tight lump developing in my throat. I held it together, smiled, said thank you, I did enjoy working here (in the end, it's true, I kind of did in that moment), and my eyes teared up as I left the building and flipped the close sign for the last time.

 

All day was a game of 'The Last Time':

 

That was the last time I flick off the bathroom light switch… that was the last time I wiped down the kitchen top of everyones coffee mug stains… that was the last time I got a piece of freakin paper from the printer! Emotional wreck! And W, I will miss her so, so much. I spent so much time on here complaining about the job I forgot to even mention how lovely and beautiful a friend W is to me. A true, true friend in every sense of the word. She promised me we must meet for coffee and keep in touch. How could I ever forget her?

 

This evening I am in some form of mourning for an old life that has been lost. On Monday I start a new, full time routine. I don't know how I'm gonna to take it. My four day weekends are over. I waved goodbye to them last weekend. Ungratefully, I would drift and dance around at weekends with all the time in the world. I feel like a school kid all over again. That Sunday night feeling of Monday coming up to haunt you, to remind you there is work at the end of play, to stop you having just too much fun. Welcome to the world of the Sunday creeps.

 

I will say I have some unique projects at the moment. Me and D drive 3 hours every Monday morning in order for me to pose naked in the most awful, twisted and demandingly taunt pose for 6 hours so I can be immortalised in bronze by a famous British sculpture artist. I will name no names, but I will say, how can I not (because everyone loves a good name drop, especially the person doing it), that at the moment the other female he is immortalising in bronze naked is only the model KATE MOSS. So me and Kate Moss pose naked for this guy. Our t**s are almost the same. Although, with her being a super model and all and me just being a regular mortal, her bronze sculpture is going to be life size, where as mine is going to be 3 times smaller than me.

 

In romantic news, me and D have been better than ever. The goddess of love has smiled upon me and she is blessing me with romance and passion in bounds. We are going through a really warm, loving 'I can't believe we're married - isn't this great!' phase. It's puke worthy. I'm sure thats why all friends are keeping away. Not that we sit and grope each other in public, well, only sometimes! Ha!

 

Speaking of friends - old friends, middle friends… everyone's changing. Everything old is slipping away. Is this some phemonenon of mid life to be 25 year olds? The eventual breaking away? The off sprouting of groups. Everyone's interests clashing as everyone persues different goals and different lives. We no longer spend 6 hours at school, crammed in common rooms and forced to socialise in small stuffy classrooms. Without this forced environment, left to our own lives and our own devices, other influences are seeming to push us all away.

 

I find myself at best irritated by my closest and dearest friends, and at worst almost hating them. It's an awful feeling. It makes me want to move away and run for the hills.

 

My new friends, all mostly older (40's and upwards to about 70), all seem to click with me, and we go together like pie and custard. It's weird. Everyone my same age seems to just not be there. You talk to them and their minds are wandering. My best friend seems distant and only interested in the superficial day to days of my life… what nail varnish have you just bought, where did you get those shoes, what colour are you planning on painting the kitchen? It's boring as hell. I don't ask for deep conversation every second of every coffee date, but I want something thats meaningful at least. I want our friendship to mean something.

 

I don't even know why I write on here sometimes. Gabbing on, it's morbid. Work, pleasure and friends. The cycle continues. Nobody here has any worthwhile answers for anything - which hits home that there are no answers. No ones got the answers. There is no magic, aged wise man who knows all. Come here my child, give to me your problem and I will divulge the answer to the riddle. No, there is no crystal ball, no wise wizard, no genie. It is very rare ever that anyone understands you. Hell, only D understands me and he's lived me with me constantly for nearly 7 years.

 

I am disillusioned with ENA. I am starting a new job. I am drifting away from friends I have known all my life. I am making new friends. And I am madly and obsessively in love with my husband. Oh, and still being naked whenever I can, especially if it's in front of other people.

 

Peace out November, it's been a blast, you won't be around much longer.

 

Lo x

Edited by mylolita
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Oh Lolita - I always liked you. Why on earth would you think anyone would consider you repulsive??? You're beautiful and very intelligent. I just never posted because I am much older than you, and I know there are posters here younger who are extremely unwelcoming to say the least - but I don't really care about that because I find most if those ones so shallow and other things as well, but I will leave it at that.

 

I've really enjoyed reading your journal and missed your presence here.

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Hi Silverbirch!

 

Oh man! Thank you for your sweet post! It's made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!

 

I guess sometimes I feel heavily judged on here by a small minority of others who come accross as 'knowing better' aka 'having their s**t together more than the average person'. It's really condensending and I find it totally patronising. Not everyones life style choices are the same, and some people don't follow the average 9 to 5 married with 2.5 kid formula and I don't think it's wrong or right, it's just their decision. I have spoken to some absolutely lovely people on here who when coming on ENA, I always gravitate towards. I think there are some delightful and amazing posters who always give warm and helpful advice, but sometimes I feel some advice given comes from someone sat in a tower saying "You're doing it wrong and you're an idiot!" Which I think is a pretty bad attitude.

 

I'm only 24, I don't have much life experience (but I do have life experience in areas some will never! Winkety wink!) and I just don't go in for the 'I know better than you' line of thought at all.

 

Sometimes I have asked for advice here knowing my own answer. I know thats kind of sneaky, but I just do it to see if anyone comes up with it and is truly insightful enough to delve a bit deeper. I've come to the conclusion that the OP can never give enough background story, information on personality and life history for anyone to give proper advice that they can take away and apply to their own lives. For instance, when people cheat, often it's not just black and white. Who are any of us to say yes, up and leave now? We're not in that relationship and we don't know the two people in it. We also only get one side of the story, which can be heavily biased to protect the OP's ego. (Afterall, no one likes to admit they were wrong).

 

On the other hand, there is some excellent advice given inbetween the gang mentality I've sometimes witnessed. I have read replies on here, especially before I joined as a member, that will always stick with me and for that I am in awe!

 

I appreciate your feedback Silverbirch - it's a huge compliment you bother to read my gabbing! Maybe I am just in a cynical mood lately! That seems to be my main setting anyway! I should snap out of it, it is the weekend after all

 

Lo x

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LOL you made me laugh with your winkety wink!

 

Well, you definitely seem wiser to me than your 24 years, and for sure your life is and will continue to be mire interesting than those people. I've had patronising and more towards me,mans I'm sure others as well. I find some people here ignorant, arrogant know it alls whose heads must be shoved so high you know where!

 

I hope you don't stop writing here. I just saw that I had missed your posts earlier about the dance you do! I moved to the country 5 months ago. I used to meet up with these fantastic women as much as I could for middle-eastern (belly) dance and some burlesque thrown in. In a Melbourne, there were lots of dance groups of that type who would meet up for joint performances and workshops. My teacher was very good, but of course, we were just women who liked to do it for fun, dress-ups and great company. It did follow the middle eastern tradition of being meetings and fun for women only, but that was more because we could really let our hair down and let go of inhibitions without the men there.

 

The most fantastic dancers I ever saw practised something called American Tribal Bellydance. The women had a sort of shocking look about them - huge hair - a lot with long dreadlocks with large colorful flowers and they had a lot of tattoos, mostly of leafy vines, down their backs, legs, arms, wherever.

 

Anyway, Hope you keep well. I can understand your sadness at leaving your old workplace. If you don't like this newer job, it doesn't have to be forever. I think you did the right thing though to spread your wings!

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