Devon Hunter

Hello everyone! It’s absolutely gorgeous today in Washington, D.C.!! I love Dupont Circle on a pretty day (yes, I love the Fruit Loop). I hope this finds you well. Below is the link I promised for the story I wrote for Matt Comer’s blog at www.InterstateQ.com. The essay I wrote is part 5 of 5, but when you go to Matt’s page you will find the links for the first four installments at the bottom of the page.

Happy Memorial Day weekend!

My friend David, who often manages the door at Swinging Richards, made a comment this evening that made me pause for a moment. He’s attracted to one of the dancers on a romantic level, but said, “Rule #1: Don’t date strippers.”

“Why do you think I’ve been single so long? You say you shouldn’t date a stripper, but I don’t think strippers (in general) should date anyone. But why do you feel that?”

“Aside from the the obvious, I think dancers forget the value of a real relationship.”

“You think we don’t know how to accept anything from people anymore, not even compliments.”

“Exactly.”

And he has a valid point. I was at a birthday party last weekend, and I was being inundated with compliments from strangers. I wasn’t at work. I had literally just gotten off the plane from San Diego less than an hour prior. I was tired. I wasn’t thinking about being on my best behavior. And so I often just half-smiled and nodded as an overly-relaxed gesture of thanks.

One guy snapped me out of my stupor: “You’re an asshole.”

“What?!”

“I just paid you some major compliments, and all you can do is nod your head and look at me with pity?”

Wow. I’d not realized I was coming across that way. It definitely wasn’t intentional. Between that experience and David’s comments, I am realizing that there is a catch-22 going on here. Without compliments I have no external basis for feedback. But compliments individually are becoming more like white noise, especially the ones that seem like empty flattery. Sincere compliments I am still able to absorb some, but as awkward as it might sound, I’d really like it if people would talk TO me instead of AT me.

Some people, who will pointedly refuse to empathize with this “problem,” will say, “You get compliments at all. Stop complaining. There are people who get too few or none.” Yes. This is true, except I’m not complaining or bemoaning. I’m simply recognizing a side effect of this career (and I think all jobs jade us in ways particular to themselves): I have been suckled on compliments/flattery for so long that most of them fall flat. If a stranger forgoes introducing himself, jumps right to flirtation and flattery, and drops compliments overly easily… well… I’ve (without intending it) started giving them the priority I would give anyone at work who wants to talk but doesn’t commit to getting a dance/VIP: I smile, nod, and move quickly to other thoughts.

As much as I have enjoyed adult entertainment, it really can manifest some fucked up psychology.

“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.

There are thousands of types of touch. But, for me, they break down into three overarching categories: Subtractive, Neutral, and Additive. If you are going to be an entertainer, you have to be okay with being touched. It’s simply part of the job (unless you’re in one of those bizarre U.S. states where the dancer performs in the middle of a cage/stage with an enclosement of chicken wire that stands as a barracade five feet between the dancer and the patons - in those places the tips are passed through the spaces of the chicken wire, and the dancer can’t collect them until the patron steps back away from the barrier). However, it’s wise to understand that you’re going to need to find balance in being touched. The highest priority: Make sure that your personal boundaries and the laws for your area are both being respected. It’s important to note that your perception of the same touch will be different from moment to moment, depending on a host of circumstances.

Subtractive Touch

When you are touched in such a manner that it costs you more than the tip you are gaining, you are losing something within yourself. You will know Subtractive Touch almost immediately. It makes you feel uncomfortable, ashamed, distressed, or humiliated. Perhaps it causes you pain as well. Possibly worse: It makes you feel absolutely “nothing” (but not in a neutral manner). When all is said and done, Subtractive Touch makes you feel less than. I would guess that approximately 10 percent of the touching I experience in an average night is Subtractive. Some nights are better, others are worse. Generally, these touches get temporarily balanced out by the preponderance of Neutral Touch and the covalent Additive Touch. Real problems can come up pretty fast on the nights when this isn’t the case.

Neutral Touch

In a rough estimate, I would say 80 percent of the touches in an evening are Neutral: They do not please or offend me. They require only as much time and attention as the value of the tip they entail. And they are completed without any regret or celebration. They simply are what they are: A transaction. Here are your onion rings, that will be $1.79. The problem with Neutral Touch is that it is repetitive. It is connected to the largest part of your earnings, which is good, but it is also numbing, which is bad.

It is important to find ways to rejeuvenate your senses throughout your shift, so that you do not become zombie-like. Once at Swinging Richards a patron had his hand cupping my testicles for a good 60 seconds or more while we were talking about politics before I realized it was happening: “Your hand is on my balls.” “Yep.” “How long has it been there?” “Oh, nearing a minute, I suppose.” “Wow… You are going to tip me eventually, right?” (One of the stupidest dollars I ever earned. LOL… click dont-touch-those for a funny wav file: NOT SAFE FOR WORK) That’s a good example of what not to allow Neutral Touch to become. In most all instances, however, Neutral Touch is polite, discreet, respectful, and superficially flattering. It can teeter over into Negative if not properly managed.

Additive Touch

This is absolutely essential. You really must experience enough Additive Touch to completely balance the Subtractive and to enliven the Neutral. As with Subtractive, about 10 percent of the touch I experience in a shift makes me feel attractive, strong, genuinely appreciated, and complemented beyond simple flattery. It is important to note, however, that if you do not get enough restoration while at work, you really must find a means to get it from some other source.

I will admit it candidly: My feelings get hurt very easily. I am not thick-skinned. I need more than 10 percent Additive Touch to renew me. I also workout 2-4 times each week for 45-75 minutes/session. I don’t exercise alot, but I exercise intensely. These two issues together mean that I can reasonably “justify” a particular “splurge” that I am nearly absolutely committed to: I get a 60/120-minute massage once a week from my friend Ron, who has one of the most gifted healing touches I’ve ever experienced.

There are other types of Additive Touch. If you have a lover or someone whom you trust, let that person put hands on you in a non-sexual but intimate manner. Perhaps they will let you lay back, and will simply stroke your face with the backs of their fingers while you listen to soft music? Or maybe they put one hand over your heart and another over your navel with essential oils? It is important to allow yourself to experience this type of healing, so that your body/mind/heart/soul does not connect all physical contact to something sexual (which is completely inaccurate/inapproptiate in most instances outside of your shift).

Additive Touch puts gas in your tank, so to speak. It airs out your house. Think of whatever Additive Touch you get beyond work as a vitamin that nourishes you. If the hundreds or thousands of touches you experience in a week/weekend are the repetitions and sets you do at the gym, then the massage/friendly hand holding/hugs from Mom that you take in during the off hours is the supplement that feeds your system.

A final suggestion, for your Additive Touch therapy: When you do have sex, try to make it as organic (but safe), passionate, and emotionally invested (even if only temporarily) as possible. You don’t want to hurt someone else in the process of healing yourself, so if necessary make it clear that although the sex you are about to have may rupture the time-space continuum, it isn’t anything that it isn’t. You don’t want to lead someone down the wrong path if you aren’t feeling residually more than you are momentarily, but you also do not want your entire sexuality to devolve into a series of automatic, mechical actions. Live succulently!