Aphids suck. Butterflies kiss.
by Devon on Oct.08, 2008, under Exotic Dancers, Strippers
I want to take a moment to make another distinction between entertainers and strippers. I know that dancers often have the reputation for using people. On the one hand I would say, “Yes, there are dancers who hustle a hard game.” However, it takes two to tango, so it could also be said that you get what you pay for.
My point is this: Whereas a gold diggin’ strippa will pump you for all you’re worth, leave you with nothing, and probably laugh at you, an entertainer doesn’t need or want to do this. An entertainer is gracious about accepting gifts, knowing that it feels good both to give and receive. I enjoy getting gifts, tips, and compliments, and I also know that people enjoy giving them. I don’t feed expectations, and I don’t lead people on. In fact, there are specific patrons I avoid, because I know they are too invested emotionally, and I don’t want to hurt them.
I don’t want this post to come across as condescending, or for it to sound superior. “Aw, how sweet… you wanna give me a gift. Well, I’ll take it, since you’re pathetic, and I’m wonderful.” That is exactly not how I intend this post to feel. What I want to clarify is the stereotype that all dancers are out for nothing but cash. Yes, we have a job to do, and yes we have bills to pay. Yes, we need to get tipped. Yes, we would probably not be as accessible if it weren’t for the job.
However, it is not true that all dancers are out to sap you like a maple tree. An exotic dancer who treats his career as an art knows there is no need for this. He is content knowing there is enough syrup in the forest to be content with a drop, rather than engorging himself on a geiser. Whereas a stripper is an aphid, meticulously sucking a plant dry, an entertainer is more like a butterfly, gently kissing the flower before moving on.
February 6th, 2009 on 4:56 pm
Oh . . . this is lovely.
You know what, I’m going to confess something here. Years ago, I was a “phone actress”. I did make incredible amounts of money, but part of the reason I stopped doing it is because there were too many men who were truly, desperately lonely out there, and I felt as if I were taking advantage of their vulnerability.
But there were an equal number who were as grateful that someone simply wanted to participate in their fantasy with them as they were for the orgasm, and they were under no delusions. The power of saying something aloud, the chance to hear things said to you that you never imagined, to engage freely in thoughts or desires that they for whatever reason felt compelled to keep out of their 3-D lives . . .
That was really rewarding, to try to be a humble receptacle for that gift of vulnerability, and to realize that I could be there for them and in a way tell them that what they wanted wasn’t wrong. And there’s nothing wrong with that being worth some money to some people.
There are so many who have plenty of money, but the most secret part of themselves they can’t talk to anyone in their intimate life about.
This post made me think about those days for the first time in a long time.
Also made me think about a story I read once about an escort who got a call from a potential client, and when he arrived at the man’s luxurious home, he was met by a middle-aged woman dressed in white. He was puzzled as he was not apprised of any sort of group scene ahead of time, but curious enough to follow the woman as she politely beckoned him to a door not far from the entrance. She opened it for him and closed it behind him.
Inside what looked to be a sitting room that had been done over as a sort of well-appointed sickroom/bedroom, was an elderly man in a hospital bed. He was on oxygen and a heart monitor, and was clearly very ill. The escort and the older gentleman started to chat, and get to know each other, and the older man was very forthcoming with his situation. He said that he was facing some serious surgery on his heart, surgery he might not live through, and he decided that if he was going to die, he wanted to have sex with a beautiful man one more time in his life.
Prudently, the escort gently convinced the man that it wasn’t fair to expect him to shoulder the burden of the man becoming fatally ill or passing away during their time together, because he’d never be able to forgive himself if that happened. But instead, they would lie in bed together naked, and kiss and make out and love on each other in a gentle way, and meet again on the other side of surgery if it were to be. Gratis.
The man had his surgery, and they did meet again when he recovered. He said that he thought that loving afternoon, and the concern and non-judgement and sensual kindness the escort showed him that day was partly responsible for the strength of his spirit going into the surgery, and maybe partly for its success.
February 7th, 2009 on 7:54 pm
that made my eyes water up… thank you for sharing. all of it. thank you.
February 8th, 2009 on 8:53 am
You’re welcome, sweetie. Glad it resonated with you.