The Whitest Black Girl

Forbidden Fruit

What do you do when you know right from wrong, yet you continue to indulge in the fruit? People always ask how can something so bad taste so good? Is it the feeling of your heart racing or the euphoria you feel while tasting it? Is it the feeling of being on a rollercoaster when you’re actually on land?

You know better. You’re smart. You practice what you preach (usually). So why is this situation different?

As you start to pick the fruit, you don’t tell your friends because you feel guilty. But if you feel this way, then why are you doing it in the first place? Why do you dare to touch the fruit and gather it at all?

You’re already craving something you have yet to taste. You’re wondering how your palate will handle it. Will it be everything you imagined? Will this flavor be your new favorite?

You keep trying to rationalize it to yourself. Play different scenarios through your mind. Thinking of different outcomes. Somehow you know what the end result is, because that’s the only result it can be. But you still choose to try the fruit anyway…..

Each text, snap, phone call is a little dose of the drug that I need to level me out.

I’m scared because I know my body will betray me. My feelings and emotions are too intense. I’m already obsessing over it. I never want to say goodbye; but I know it has to be done. Just like our goodbyes in a few months. I don’t mind waiting weeks to finally see you, because I’m scared of saying goodbye in person.

I have this abnormal desire of wanting to satisfy you however I can. That’s dangerous. But there’s nothing I can do for you. I’m on the other side of the country. You have this control over me that I have never experienced with anyone else in my life. I’m scared. You’re a drug that I forgot I loved and was addicted to over 10 years ago. Now it’s happening all over again.

If I lived closer….it’d be game over. There would be pure reckless behavior taking place. I’m scared to trust you. But I know when I see you, I won’t want to let you go. But we’ll have no choice but to go back to our sober lives. Perhaps I won’t see you.

Do I use this time to prepare myself for the final goodbye? Or do I hope there’s a perfect solution that we have yet to discover?

I’m slowly accepting the fact that I don’t know as much about myself as I thought I did. I’ve literally blocked out years of my life trying to get over you and forget the bad times that we had. I overdosed on you, then quit cold turkey. I didn’t know that during that overdose, I began blocking out parts of myself along with major life events that have shaped me. Now what?

Teachable Not Terrible Two’s

Terrible twos? I don’t believe in them. Every child is teachable. Lauralie is already opinionated, independent and loves to be in control. She’s also the best movie narrator I’ve ever met.

We start our mornings with her telling me to wake up and literally opening my eyes. She tells me she’s “going potty” and that she’ll be back. I help her wipe and wash her hands. We return to my bed or hers and discuss our plans for the day. Her favorite suggestions are going to the playground, going to Disney or going to the store (which really means the mall’s play area). We brush our teeth and start our day.

She will either eat pancakes or waffles with fruit for breakfast. We turn on toddler songs and have dance parties, unless she decides she’d like to watch a movie instead. Everything we do, I discuss with her. I believe this is what has contributed to her speaking so well. I’ve never been fond of “baby talk”. I’m proud when she says “please” and “thank you” without me asking. Hearing her say she’s “so happy” and that she loves me “so much” makes my heart smile.

She loves to paint her nails and mine. She enjoys books and playing her drums. Playing catch is a new hobby for her. Lauralie knows what she wants and doesn’t want. She has no problem making it clear. I didn’t like the idea of my child saying “no” constantly, so I taught her to say “no thank you” instead. If I tell her no, I explain why. I think doing that will help her understand concepts and cause and effect as she grows up.

For example, I ask her if she needs to use the bathroom and she’ll either respond with “yes” or “no thank you, no pee in pull up”. If I’m telling her to listen to me and she doesn’t, then after a while I’ll tell her she has to go in time out. She’ll respond by saying “OK, I’ll go sit on mommy’s floor” or “Lauralie’s not being nice…sorry.” It amazes me every time. But it shows she understands what’s going on. I do my best to remain consistent. If there is new behavior, then her father and I discuss it.

This afternoon, she started saying “gimme”. I’m not sure where she learned the word but it doesn’t matter. I told her to replace that word with “can I have it please”. She’s done well so far this evening. And of course I discussed it with her father for consistency.

Lauralie likes to know what’s going on around her at all times. She’ll ask where we are if it’s unfamiliar. She’ll ask “what happened” on TV if she doesn’t understand. She wants to know “why is the baby crying” when she sees that happen in public. Her curiosity is beautiful and keeps me on my toes.

If she notices my hands are cold, she’ll offer me a blanket and socks. When I say I have to go to work, she insists on getting my work shirt and helping me put on my work sneakers. When we go to dinner, she always pulls out my chair and tells me to sit down. I always accept her help and thank her.

We do everything together. She’s well behaved although she neglects naps. Lauralie is self sufficient and enjoys her independence. If there’s a button to push, a door to close, a mess to clean up or a movie to turn on she will do it on her own. If she needs help, she will specifically ask for it or show me what the problem is, if she’s unable to express it. Seeing her succeed in her actions are rewarding for her father and I. It reminds us that we are teaching her well.

When it comes to bed time, she likes to sleep in her Minnie Mouse bed. She asks me to “put fire on the candle” and turn the lights off. Lauralie has me hold her hand while she’s in her bed until she falls asleep. Those are the moments when I reflect on being a mother and being grateful for her. When it came to her sleeping in her room at her father’s house, I would visit her around bedtime. I would help her relax and get ready for bed. I’d lay with her until she fell asleep. It took a few weeks for her to do it in her own, but she finally got the hang of it.

During my pregnancy, I told myself that I needed to improve so I can be a great mother to her. I think my actions through now, because I know I’m setting an example for her. She already has my sass and determination. She has her father’s charm and big heart. Watching Lauralie grow up is simply beautiful. I enjoy every moment with her and I’m beyond blessed to be her mother.

Sugar

What do you think of a “sugar” relationship? That’s the question he asked me before I went on stage. I thought maybe I misheard him. I got on stage in shock. Should I be offended? Should I be honored? Did I hear him right? Those are the questions that ran through my head as I seductively completed my 3 songs. He came and tipped me and told me we’d finish the discussion tomorrow as he handed me a drink. He had to get back to work.

“Ladies!” I ran in the dressing room to tell my girls. “Guess what he just asked me?!” I said to them. They couldn’t guess and I didn’t have the patience for them to do so. I told them. They all agreed if I felt comfortable with him then I should do it. I’d never seen him outside of work and I never even gave him a lap dance before. How would I know if I was comfortable? And what did he expect? I had too many questions.

Tomorrow came and I was nervous to see him. He was a business man. Very smart, always well dressed with a nice tie and slacks and well spoken. Yes, he was very handsome. He had an ex wife and 2 kids. He was over 10 years my senior.

He greeted me with my favorite drink at the time (Malibu with pineapple juice and a splash of grenadine). He asked me again. “What do you think of a sugar relationship?” I sipped my drink and asked what that would entail. He told me that was up to me. I told him I needed more details since it was his idea. He said he simply wanted to spend time with me and pay me for it. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. I told him I wanted what he expected of me in writing and that we could get coffee the next week and go over it. It was my first time and I wanted to be sure I fully understood.

We met at a Starbucks a few days later. He had his list in hand. He also brought a visa gift card with him as well. He gave me the gift card and the list. He wanted me to sleep with him, accompany him on trips and go on dates. I could do these things as often or as little as I wanted. He would pay me using Visa Giftcards (I’m not sure why). He would still visit me at the club as well.

I thought about it for a week and when I was sure, I answered him. I wrote “yes” on the paper he had given me. I wasn’t sure what to expect. We had known each other for about 6 months. I thought of us as good friends although he was older. We connected intellectually and I loved that. Plus, I found him attractive.

I’m a foodie so we went out to eat a lot. He always greeted me with flowers. I truly enjoyed spending time with him and I honestly felt bad that he was paying me to do so. But he had the money to spend and of course I wanted it, so it worked out.

The first time I was to sleep with him was awkward. He got a hotel room (since he lived 45 mins away) and he had flowers and wine set up in the room before I arrived. He was sweet. Too sweet. The whole situation felt awkward to me. I got the impression that he loved me once I finally thought about it. But I wanted to try it, so I did it.

After that, I kept it strictly platonic. He was affectionate and I wasn’t fond of it. I didn’t want love or complications. We would go out for lunch and that was all. I didn’t end up going out of town with him because I didn’t want to share a bed with him. He understood.

You never know what you would do until the opportunity is presented to you. I was surprised I couldn’t do it (with him). But it still worked out for both of us. He simply enjoyed my company. I would’ve spent time with him for free if he had asked. Don’t ever do anything you feel uncomfortable with, regardless of the price.

I’ve partaken in other successful “sugar” relationships after that. We’ll discuss later. A lot of those relationships take place because people are lonely and they feel that they have to pay for company. That breaks my heart.

Failed Attempts

“If you’re going to do it, then you cut up and down. Not across the wrist.” I still have a small scar going diagonally on my wrist. The others have faded.

Even if I did it, it wouldn’t matter. She’s literally given me the instructions on how to get the job done. And she’s still the same callous person throughout the whole ordeal. I finally realized that if I went through with it, then she would win. She didn’t want to see me happy or succeed. And me being gone would fulfill her wishes.

The air in the household was saturated with hate, jealousy, secrets and abuse. It seemed easier to live with it, rather than ask for help. At least I knew what was coming day to day. If I told, then it would be out in the open and I wouldn’t know what to expect. “Whatever goes on in this house, stays in this house.” A line I won’t ever forget.

If you put manipulative, abusive and deceitful behavior on display, then of course you think it’s ok. So why would I ask for help from people like that? Your practice of the inappropriate behavior is condoning it at the same time.

Being around 7 years old, I was made to feel that the molestation was my fault. Since I was made to feel guilty, I didn’t want to tell for fear of getting in trouble. Not being believed never crossed my mind. When I was a young teen, the violation recommenced.

I was told that I dressed too provocatively. I was told that it didn’t matter because it wasn’t truly blood. I was told that other people do it all the time. I was told that I would be in the wrong if it came to light. I was told that since I was a virgin, it didn’t really matter.

When I was in college, it happened again. Unbeknownst to my attacker, I knew the behavior of silence and blocking things out. So it happened and nothing came of it.

I never thought I was wrong. I assumed it was just something that happened in life from time to time. I knew it wasn’t OK, but I didn’t understand the severity of it until I spoke it out loud to two guys that I dated years later. Seeing the anger in their face and their desire for retaliation scared me. I made them promise to never speak of it or do anything about it. I didn’t want to be responsible for someone getting hurt or going to jail because of me.

I attempted suicide 3 times. Twice by cutting my wrists and a third by ingestion. Did I think it was a cry for help? No. Was I unsure about following through? No. Was I disappointed when I realized I was still here? Yes.

I wanted to succeed simply because I was over it. I was sick of keeping secrets and not being in control of my mind or body. I was sick of playing the role of who everyone around me wanted me to be. I was sick of covering for others. I was sick of being a scapegoat and a victim.

Once I was in my late teens, I gained the control I wanted over my life and I never had those thoughts again. I was able to actually live. I was safe. If I didn’t like someone in my life, I’d simply remove them and forget about them. I’m a master at blocking things out and this helped me a lot. It may not be the best tactic, but it has worked well enough for me. I keep my circle very small. It’s less room for disappointment and hurt.

If you or someone you know are being abused or molested, I’m reassuring you that it’s not your fault. No lie can change the truth. Blocking out the situation won’t change it. Enabling the behavior by staying quiet or not helping isn’t right either. Violating someone is not OK under any circumstances.

If you’re reading this and you’ve entertained suicidal thoughts, please stop. I know it’s not easy. Find something to look forward to day by day or week by week. Make those hard choices that will help you regain control over your life. Seek help. Do whatever you can to stay here. You were given life for a reason. Do not intentionally cut it short.

How have these Unpoetic Teenage Thoughts shaped me today? I don’t trust easily. It’s hard for me to give. If someone has hurt me, I have to remove them immediately and I won’t look back. I’m much stronger than I used to be mentally, but there is always work to be done.

As an adult, I’m an “all or nothing” type of person. For example, I don’t like affection but I enjoy sex. It’s like if you’re going to touch me, then fuck me. Otherwise, don’t touch me at all. I like everything in black and white. No blurred lines, no exceptions. It’s the blurred lines that can make things dangerous.

When there is something I do enjoy, I secretly become obsessed with it. I sometimes feel guilty for being happy. I’m not sure how to fully explain why.

I want to tell my daughter about all of my experiences through life, regardless of they are good or bad. I’d like her to know that she can trust me and tell me absolutely anything. I want you and her to learn from my experiences and mistakes.

Select the sub categories located under “Unpoetic Teenage Thoughts” after reading it, to follow the journey with me back into parts of my teenage mind.

The Reason

He made me feel confident

He’s the reason I smiled

When I woke up in the morning, he was all I thought about

ALL THE TIME

I was a totally different person

I couldn’t focus

I was infatuated

Whenever we were together, I thought about it a million times over

I felt wanted, special and beautiful inside and out

He was sly, mysterious but that was OK

I broke him down when necessary

He knew just what to say at the right time

He also knew when to surprise me to make me notice him again

He was smart I must admit

Playing with my mind, while I played with his

But it’s all over now

No more long stares or conversations or visits in the hallway

Just memories are left

Especially of when he said “I love you”

Select the sub categories located under “Unpoetic Teenage Thoughts” after reading it, to follow the journey with me back into parts of my teenage mind.

Stories

He tell me stories~Stories only true lovers can share~He tells me his thoughts, his feelings, what’s on his mind and how I can keep him satisfied~He tells me what he likes about me~My brown, smooth skin, my legs, my smile face and hands~He says he can keep me satisfied~Take me to places I’ve never been before~To paradise~And once there, take care of me mentally and physically~To water my sexual, sensual garden~

I just sit and listen while he’s telling me his stories~Meanwhile longing to touch, to feel, to taste him~To feel his hands caressing me all over~Hearing him whisper I’m his and that he loves me and will never leave me~Saying that I’m not just another girl, but that I’m different, special~He says he’ll take care of my needs first~Before his~That he’ll satisfy me and make me moan to feed his ego~He says he’s a pro when it comes to love making~That I’ll be his one and only lover and he’ll be mine~He says he’ll take it slow and be gentle because he knows I’m a virgin~That he’ll keep that in mind~

He calls me his sexy chocolate thang~ I just smile and laugh in return~Does he want me only for what I can do for him?~ Or does he want a little more?~I’m longing to be with him~To see if what he says is true~If he can really satisfy my wants and needs~Or to see if he’ll let me down~

I want to do it~Experience it~But how do you know when it’s right?~ Is it worth it?~Should I?~I don’t know~Maybe one day I’ll find out what it’s really about~But until then~I’ll just keep listening to his stories

Select the sub categories located under “Unpoetic Teenage Thoughts” after reading it, to follow the journey with me back into parts of my teenage mind.

Freedom

Sometimes I just want to scream, scream, scream

To see if anyone really hears me, my cries, my need to be free

Or just to see if it’s all just a figure of my imagination

To see why they won’t set me free

Do they not love me?

Or trust me?

Or believe in me?

They can’t call it protection because there is no real danger

They can’t call it love because there’s no one around to hate

So what can they call it?

Control?

Safety?

Captivity?

Sometimes I just want to scream, scream, scream

To see if anyone really hears me, my cries, my need to be free

Or just to see if it’s all just a figure of my imagination

Am I only good for cleaning?

And watching?

And scoring?

Or am I appreciated for just a little bit more?

Why is it that the ones who seem to need freedom the most always end up lacking it?

Why is it that the ones who need to be controlled the most don’t have it and the ones who don’t need it get the third degree?

Sometimes I just want to scream, scream, scream

To see if anyone really hears me, my cries, my need to be free

Or just to see if it’s all just a figure of my imagination

My heart, mind, body and soul long for it

My blood and emotions fiend for it

All it is

All I need

All I want

Is a little, just a little

FREEDOM

Select the sub categories located under “Unpoetic Teenage Thoughts” after reading it, to follow the journey with me back into parts of my teenage mind.

Unpoetic Teenage Thoughts

These are a series of poems and gathered thoughts that I wrote as a teenager. They were in a black spiral notebook that I kept hidden for years. It’s amazing that I had it up until I was in my mid 20’s. Then for some reason (I can’t recall), I ripped a few pages out of it. I’m

unsure of where the rest of the notebook is. But I found those few pages within the past year.

My teenage years weren’t my favorite. My parents were extremely strict and my frustration showed. We didn’t have a good relationship. I did well in school. The only positives I felt the I had were my young sisters and my close friends.

I went through some very dark times. There were countless nights where I’d stay awake and literally cry for hours on end. Unfortunately, I did ponder suicide at times. I’d constantly wonder why I had to deal with molestation, fear and the feeling of being trapped.

There are so many teenagers and young kids that are having the same thoughts that I did. That is why I’m putting these words on display. To remind them that they are not alone. That they are not wrong for their feelings, but they need to find a way to get rid of them. They need to remind themselves that they are enough. That they will be OK, although that seems impossible. They need to know help is available. They need to know they are not crazy or weird and that their feelings are valid.

I want them to focus on their future. I want them to know that time heals. I want them to know that there are millions of people in the world and they don’t have to surround themselves with bullies or abusers. Lastly, I want them to know that there is life ahead of them and they need to make sure that they are here to live it and enjoy it.

Reading some of these writings (as an adult) that I wrote in regards to losing my virginity showed me my “all or nothing” side. I was actually surprised at how obsessed I was with losing my virginity in high school. But a lot of teenagers are that way. I was scared and intrigued at the same time. As a result, I wrote about the boys that were trying to pursue me. I ironically, I haven’t found a single writing about after the deed was finally done.

Don’t rush to lose your virginity. It’s something only you can control. So don’t give up that power too easily. Be safe and educate yourself. Be sure that you’re fully aware of the consequences that may occur after the deed is done.

I came across some writings that I wrote over a few months when I dated my first boyfriend. Like all teenage girls, I was obsessed with him. Literally. We were best friends. We’d sneak out of our houses in the middle of the night and hang out as long as we could. Sometimes I was exhausted, and he’d steal his parents car and come see me. We would sleep in my little sisters’ tree house until it was time to go get ready for school.

Sometimes, he wasn’t always the nicest to me. He could be angered easily. He had no problem yelling at me, hanging up on me or calling me out of my name. I loved him so much. I didn’t care. I’d apologize and beg for his forgiveness. I’d call him over and over until he answered. I didn’t realize I was practicing the behavior of my mother. But we were kids, so this has no weight on his character today. He was and still is a great person with a huge heart. He was just as misunderstood as I was. That’s what made our bond so strong because we truly understood each other.

He had grown up and grown out of those bad habits when we reconnected years later. I had grown up too, but I was still practicing my bad habits. I was still displaying my mother’s submissive, weak behavior that I had mistakingly learned to master. At that time, I was in the relationship described in the post “Toxic”. Ironically, I told him about the situation and he told me to leave that guy. But I didn’t listen. I was too far in.

Select the sub categories located under “Unpoetic Teenage Thoughts” to follow the journey with me back into parts of my teenage mind.

Perception

Perception is the ability to see, hear, or become aware of something through the senses. It can also be a way of regarding, understanding, or interpreting something, in addition to a mental impression.

I wasn’t close to my mother or stepdad due to the fact that I felt that they allowed their perception of me to become their truth in our relationship. Needless to say, their perception of me wasn’t the best. This led to them judging everything that came out of my mouth harshly. That (among other things) helped to perpetuate a volatile relationship. As I was growing up, all we did was argue. I’d go days without speaking to them because I simply had nothing to say. They lived in their own toxic world and I kept to myself.

My stepfather used to say “Whatever goes on in this house, stays in this house.” Therefore I didn’t speak of what went on there to anyone besides my best friend and I made her sweat to secrecy. So as a young girl, I learned to build the walls that I have today. I felt that was the safest thing to do. I didn’t want to betray my mother and stepfather regardless of how bad things were. I was (and still am)a fiercely loyal person. As a result, I kept a huge guard up. I didn’t (and do not) trust easily and I was (and still am) a very private person.

I don’t speak of my feelings. If I do decide to trust someone and they betray me, it’s rare that I forgive. I know as people we are supposed to forgive. I’m trying to work on it.

With these walls built, lack of trust and my ability to shield anything wrong in my life, the negative perception of me flourishes. My defense mechanisms are seen as undesirable traits that push people away and give them the wrong idea about who I am. I don’t care as much as I should because you can’t please everyone. And I have great people in my circle that have a different perception of me, so I can’t be that bad right?

The mix of people’s perception of me and being a black woman with resting bitch face is part of the recipe for being called an “angry black woman.” I believe that phrase is a way to avoid identifying what the problem truly is. Instead, it’s just calling someone a meaningless name. Instead of labeling each other, we should get to know people. We are not required to like everyone. Just accept who they are and move on.

I can be perfectly fine one day and everyone is asking me what’s wrong. When something truly is wrong, no one notices. I do take some responsibility for the perception people have of me. Our past relationships and experiences help shape us. We learn, grow and adapt as we go through this journey of life. That’s why we shouldn’t judge anyone.

“I put on my makeup, put a smile on my face…and if anyone asks me, everything is ok…I’m laughing because no one knows the joke is on me…because I’m dying inside with my pride and a smile on my face…”

The above excerpt is from a song by Tamia that I identified with years ago. My confidence was not what it is today and I felt that it would show. My walls that I built protected me. My smile is my best shield.

Becoming a mother has taught me to be a little more vulnerable. To forgive a little. To be a strong, confident role model for my daughter. To focus on truly being happy in life and not lowering my standards for others. To be a little more compassionate and understanding. Perception isn’t everything. It’s just a start.

Victoria

I hate to lose. I’m very competitive. “You’ll be good at it!” My friend said. “Yea right…I would never attempt and no one would hire me anyway. I don’t even have boobs!” I responded. Then he says…”Bet.”

So that Saturday, I drove an hour away to the first place we found on Google. I told him I’d be back after I got rejected. He seemed to think otherwise and he was right.

“You ever done this before?” Dom (a bald headed buff Italian man) asked me. He looked like a bodyguard but he was the manager. I told him absolutely not. “Get on stage and dance.” I had on my everyday heels from home and did as he asked. I chose one of my favorites “That’s The Way Love Goes” by my idol Janet Jackson.

Before the song was over Dom told me to stop. “Do you have shoes?” He asked. I told him I didn’t. He told me the cook would drive me down the street to get some. So there I was… sitting in the passenger seat of her pick up truck in complete shock. I had lost the bet.

I filled out the application and was told I was hired. “What’s your name going to be?” Dom asked. I had no idea. I hadn’t even thought that far. Nothing sounded good. I could tell he was getting impatient, so I blurted out “Victoria! Like Victoria’s Secret since it’s a secret I’m here .” Dom was fine with that.

I made a few hundred dollars that night and I worked until the club closed. I don’t know how I got through that night. I wasn’t 21 so I couldn’t drink. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but it was fun. The “Veteran” dancers were nice and the customers were as well. Everyone was happy and having a great time.

It was easy to tell who the top girls were and who were trash or visitors. But there was respect all around an no one broke the rules inside. There really was no sex in the champagne room back then. If a girl wanted to take things further, she did it outside the club after her shift. I still can remember the first night I made over $1,000. The guy was obsessed with me and had plenty of money. So of course I made sure my friends joined us during the “dances” so they made money too. He spent money well and all he wanted to do was drink and have us listen to him brag about himself.

Bachelor parties were the best. I was too afraid to do them outside of the club, but I had a lot of fun when we did them there. It was a guaranteed money making night if the groom liked you because that meant all of his friends liked you too (and of course they were footing the bill). I was always looking out for the men I met. Reminding them not to get too drunk and to remember they have lives outside of those doors. I had to let them know the night wouldn’t last forever but mistakes would.

I ended up quitting my other 2 jobs after about 3 months because I was making more money on a Friday and Saturday night than I would all week! I would literally hide money in my glove compartment and trunk because I didn’t know what to do with it. So for a few months, I spent most of the “work week” going out to eat and hanging out with friends. Then once the weekend came I was getting paid to socialize and dance. It was perfect.

I’ve always been a very openly sexual person, so dancing truly was fun for me. It was like an outlet without having sex. I wasn’t even sleeping with anyone in or outside of the club and I didn’t have the urge to. I supposed working in a sexually charged atmosphere can do that. I would still be surprised and humbled every time a man or woman came to tip me and compliment me. I was appreciative inside but exhibited pure lust and control on the outside. “Victoria” was who Janee was behind closed doors. The lady that only a few lucky people got to see in private in the real world was on display on that stage.

One night, one of the D.J’s asked me if I would ever work the day shift. I didn’t even know that was a thing. I couldn’t fathom who would come to the club during the day. I couldn’t imagine there being any money to be made. I wasn’t doing anything during the day but spending money and sleeping. So I told him I’d give the day shift a try.

Yes, you’re right. I loved it! I started work at noon and would finish by 5pm unless I decided to work the night shift. It was intimidating at first because I was unfamiliar with these ladies and they had their own regulars. I ended up bonding with them and developing my own clients. Of course it wasn’t as busy and the atmosphere was more quiet and intimate, but I enjoyed it. I spent a lot of time talking to businessmen, doctors and wealthy clients. I learned all I could from them and made genuine friendships.

One guy bought me lunch and snacks for the other ladies at least 4 times a week. Another always stopped in when he was in town to talk to me about his wife and to make sure my bills were paid for the month. Another was a man who had low confidence, but I became his cheerleader. He ended up introducing me to his girlfriend and she thanked me for giving him the confidence needed to finally ask her out.

I dated 2 men while working there (not at the same time of course). They both met me there and understood that work stayed at work and that I was extremely loyal. They even came to see me while working which I didn’t mind. I just hated for them to see me dance on stage. I was self conscious when they were in the crowd. If they asked me to dance at home one on one, I was too shy. I’m confident, but sometimes not as confident as people think. I’m more confident in front of strangers than I am with people I actually know. I care about the opinions of people that I know personally, as opposed to strangers.

I love those girls to this very moment. We looked out for each other and spread the wealth. It was a beautiful sisterhood. All different types of young ladies, all different shades and body types. We were a team. Many of them now are doctors, teachers, nurses and have families. We’re all Facebook friends! Working at the club was a fun temporary job for all of us and we used it for what we needed it for. I told myself I’d stop after 2 years and I did. I gave myself a time frame because I didn’t want to become a “lifer”.

I don’t think there should be any judgement if the job is done right. You’re there to dance and entertain. Not to sell sex and get involved in drugs and human trafficking. The exploiters, thieves and criminals give the business a bad name. But the ones who do it right would tell you they enjoyed it as much as I did. This job set me up for the perfect getaway that I needed away from the prior toxic relationship.