Devon Hunter

Someone, I believe it was Curt, asked me how honest I am on my blog: Pretty damn honest. I have friends worry that I tell too much. But how else am I to fulfill the mission of this blog? What would be the point of undermining one series of misconceptions by creating new ones?

I treat this writing space the same way I treat a dance studio and a theater stage: It is a space for me to share myself with people who are interested in what I have to say. I create performance art based on autobiographical material. Intimates in my audiences will shake their heads at the details I reveal in my work. But I am accustomed to being naked in front of audiences. I don’t have anything to lose or to hide. I’m not running for public office (I’ve been far too forthright about my life to ever be able to do that in the United States… a pity, since transparency would be a welcome change in our politicians).

So, to put this issue to rest: The only agenda I have on this website is to encourage patrons to see adult entertainers as people. I am faulted. I have talents. I am strong in some ways, but weak in others. I like people, even though many of them hurt me, and if I tell you what I’ve experienced, then you can bank on its being real. One of the observations I ran into at UCLA: The same professor who said I was “begrudgingly brilliant” also noted that my stories sound like fairy tales, not only because I’ve had an interesting life, but because I enjoy the telling as much as the living.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Fine.”

“Where are you from?”

“Ft. Lauderdale. There are other bystanders here for you to victimize. You can go now.”

“I’m glad this will be the only time I ever have to interact with you.”

Honestly, why would you go to a club that showcases dancers, and then act like we’re there to “victimize” you? I’ve had a variety of insults thrown at me, but that one is particularly hateful if you look at the terms this “person” used. The cover charge is only $5 at PT1109. Even if this “person” hadn’t known there’d be dancers, because he’s an out-of-towner, it wouldn’t have been a huge loss to turn around and walk back out (if dancers are offensive). Hell, they probably would’ve refunded the entry fee, if you stay that briefly.

There are at least two clubs in Ft. Lauderdale with male dancers. I don’t know what this patron’s interaction with them has possibly been, but when I encounter that level of toxicity I feel zero obligation to continue playing nice. These are the moments when I make patrons wake up and realize that I’m a human being, and not some kind of voodoo doll that can be abused in the place of whatever is causing them angst. I was so pissed with this person that I walked away with him yelling something indecipherable to my palm.

I was in a bad, bad mood already from sheer exhaustion. Of course, this patron didn’t know that, but I was not the stripper to sass that night. I then went and told the other dancers about his attitude problem. Dude got no play that night. If you think dancers don’t talk to each other, you better recognize. If he weren’t attracted to me, that’s fine. I definitely wasn’t attracted to him.

But that’s not the issue. How difficult is it to simply be polite?

Hey Devon,

I was wondering… What do you hate most about being a dancer?

- Inquisitive

Dear Inquisitive,

Every job has it’s challenges. There are parts of my work that I absolutely love: Performing, meeting new people, travelling to different places, setting my own schedule, having a real impetus to stay fit… Of course, all of those have their down sides as well, but generally those are my favorite parts of working in clubs.

I don’t know why you’re asking me this, so I don’t know how to frame my answer. Do you want to know, because you’re considering the career and you want to know what to expect? Or are you just curious? I suppose I can just speak to both at the same time.

Although I enjoy my work, I would have to say that these are my 10 biggest pet peeves about the work (rated from least annoying to most, for me personally):

10 Clothed patrons who make cynical comments to me about my appearance while I’m disrobed.

9 The same songs every night, no matter where I’m dancing.

8 Oily strippers.

7 Cigarette smoke.

6 Free advice from either patrons or dancers about the career that wasn’t requested in the first place.

5 Living on a completely inverted schedule from everyone else in the world.

4 Having to constantly explain why adult entertainment is a “real” career.

3 People who sit by the stage and text all night. Hello! You could do that at the back of the room!

2 Straight dancers talking shit about the gay patrons who support them.

1 Being treated like Hester Prynne by strangers outside of work while socializing with my friends in public.

Before I begin, I want to first acknowledge (though not necessarily apologize) for the way in which my writing goes through some definite mood swings. There are times when I have a great many situations to discuss, and I can pick more variety of tone; however, I am having one of those weeks where everything blog-worthy is heavy… I’m writing this at 5:30 a.m., which seems to be more the norm than the exception lately. I do this, because some experiences are best described after some times passes, and others need immediate comment.

I know a patron who has always spoken to me in spiritual terms. The first time I ever met him he wanted to give me a massage and align my chakras. Such is the club: You meet people of all backgrounds and beliefs. This particular person is a mystical type, though I am not quite convinced his powers are attuned to the level he himself believes. At any rate, when he asks me to pray for something on his behalf I generally agree to the wish and send out a private moment of hope. I have done this, because his requests have always been constructive and/or productive (if not odd and eccentric).

This time, however, I am having difficulty…

He wants me to pray for his father to die. Dude, I just wanted to dance naked for you for like eight minutes. This is getting to be rather more than I bargained for. On the one hand I understand that he wants his father’s suffering to end (and by extension, his mother’s), but on the other hand how am I supposed to send out an earnest wish for this person to fall down dead?

“Well, when I had a prayer circle to ask for his recovery after his first surgery, that went well. So I figured if I could get enough people to pray for him to die during his second surgery, he’d finally just get on with it.”

Normally I would just smile and nod at a strange request without really doing anything about it, but something about the way this patron sincerely hopes his father dies struck me as something worth talking about, even if I’m not entirely sure how I feel about being asked to contribute in any way to someone’s demise. I have known friends and family members who have sickened, or been injured, and who have passed away. I have had many friends who have had this experience and talked about it with me. Of course I don’t want their deaths to be painful or protracted, yet do I dare to admit that I hoped for their passings? Maybe, but only as a reprieve from suffering. But I suppose the real question behind this post is this: How lonely (or insert other adjective here) does someone have to be to ask in the middle of a nude dance an exotic dancer he sees once or twice in a month to synergize with the others who are sending out a prayer for death?

What am I even supposed to pray, even if I agree to this (which I’m not sure I do)? “I ask for a peaceful resolution and transition for this person’s spirit.” That’s an eloquent way of saying “God, please kill this person.” What if this patron’s father goes into his operation praying for life? (This is a good example of how ridiculous it is when opposing armies of the same faith both intone God’s favor as justificiation for victory on the field of battle.)

Honestly, this may very well be the first post I’ve written on here for which I feel absolutely zero closure after describing what I’ve experienced. Jeez… I was just shaking my pecker at him… and he unloads this on me… I need to be charging more for VIP’s.

So, I went out last night (Tuesday Trivial Pursuit at Petra’s in Charlotte, NC) for the first time in quite a while. Every time I go out for fun I remember why I don’t. Over the course of about four hours I had umpteen random people come up to me (most of whom I had never seen before) and criticize something about the way I looked or the way I was dressed. I was on the receiving end of several cutting remarks about what I do, and I was called up on stage by the female impersonator hosting the event who said in front of about 150 people, “This is the only stripper I’ve ever known whom I would call an entertainer.” Mhm.

Here’s one exchange I had a few moments later: “You look very nice tonight.”

“Thank you. How are you?”

“I’m good. You’re that stripper, right?”

“Which stripper?”

“That guy that does all the flips and shit.”

“Oh. Yes, I’m probably that person, yes.”

“You look really hot. Can I take you home?”

“I came here with a friend. He’s my ride back.”

“Well, when you’re dressed like that it screams ‘Whore!’ I’m just saying.”

I was wearing jeans and a tank top with a baseball cap.

“Funny, I thought it was more of a whisper.”

I was pinched, poked, prodded, rubbed, humped, squeezed, and canoodled until I was just about done with being gracious. I finally settled into a nice conversation on the back patio, but before that happened I had to get ornery with someone: One boy came up to me randomly and said, “You are sooo fucking hot. But I’ve heard about you.”

“Oh? What have you heard?”

“That you’re a dancer.”

“I am a dancer.”

“Oh, well I don’t hold that against you. I’m cool with that.”

“Ah. Well, what do you do?”

“I work at Best Buy. I’m in retail.”

“Oh, well I don’t hold that against you. I’m cool with that.”

He went and sat down.

This could probably be alleviated by going out more. I am seen so seldom in my clothes that people just don’t know how to relate to me as a real person. I suppose I should start breaking down the social wall a little bit more, and letting people see me as I am. But that means I’ll have to contend with alot of sniping and mean bullshit along the way.

A total stranger walked up to me, and said, “So, did you tear the sleeves off that shirt?”

“No, it’s a tank top. I bought it like this.”

“Well, I’d like it better on a woman. I’m sure everyone else likes it just fine, but I’m straight.”

(Blink, blink… what the hell am I supposed to say to that?)

“Alright.” And then I turned away. What else is required here? I have no idea.

Part of me desperately wants to go out and be around people more (without it being in a work setting), but another part of me just rolls his eyes and thinks it’d be better to just stay at home with the cat. I like people, I truly do; however, there are times I just want to smack them. I have to admit that this is beginning to wear me out.

Probably the most hurtful non-interaction was with someone with whom I’ve hooked up several times. He kept walking by me with his head down, refusing to look at me. I finally approached him and said hello. He acted surprised to see me, and we had a very uncomfortable 30-second chat. About an hour later I left to go home. Immediately he texted me, “Sorry we couldn’t talk more. Let’s fuck again soon.” I think not.