The online diary of a gay courtesan.

I was chatting online last night, and some dude hit me up. We talked some formal chit chat for a little bit before he told me that he’d just had a fight with his boyfriend, had shown his boyfriend my profile, and had told his boyfriend that I was the guy waiting in the wings for him to leave his boyfriend. To which the man said his boyfriend replied, “Well, he’s a pole dancer, so I guess that’s just fucking typical!”

Mhm…

Ring, Ring:

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kettle?”

“Yeah?”

“This is the pot: You’re black.” (Click.)

In all honesty, most women at clubs ignore me completely: I’m shorter than most dancers, I’m nowhere near as aggressive or shadowy (which girls at male strip clubs seem to want more than the nice guys they can see anytime at home), and I make no secret of the fact that I’m gay. I understand completely why I would be invisible to most women at a strip club – there’s really no fantasy that they might seduce me. But every once in a while I will inadvertently charm the ladies. This is becoming more common as I gain muscle mass (because I’ve gradually, over the last several months, become more and more mistaken for heterosexual – it happened three times Friday night and twice on Saturday). Passing for straight isn’t my goal or my priority, but it can be fun playing with people’s expectations, now that presumption doesn’t sit at 100 percent.

There were three women sitting at the bar. Everything I did titillated them. I actually enjoyed this, because I absolutely love women. When I finally came around to them, so that they could talk to me and tip me, they were lovely. Once I was actually there in front of them, two of the three were reluctant to touch me at first. It was taboo, I suppose. The married one had no trouble at all. I thought this was especially marvelous. They liked my ass, biceps, and abs in particular.

“Oh my God! You make me want to go home and fuck my husband!”

“Well… that’s my job.” (I didn’t really know how to respond to this, since I don’t get a chance to chat with girls much at work.)

“It’s too bad you don’t like me.”

“I do like you!”

“It’s too bad you don’t want to fuck me.” (Aha! They do know I’m gay!)

“Susan, I will respect you more than any man you will ever meet.” (Said very coyly with a wink as I kissed her hand.)

“Oh, damn… Respect me some other time!”

I love my work.