Where is the love?

I’ve not talked too much about the competitive nature of what I do. I’ve mentioned office drama vaguely. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned it directly at all. Perhaps a few instances here and there of “if you see others doing well, and you’re not, don’t take it personally…” But I don’t recall ever mentioning what the dressing room is like… It’s definitely...

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Feel the burn…

Scotty asked me this weekend how I avoid burnout. I’ve talked about this in a couple postings already (click here, click here, or click here), but I’ve not gone into much beyond the advice that you should take time off. I’ve mentioned driving through the mountains. Stuff like that. But I’ve enjoyed a longevity in this career, because of a particular advantage I have: I am a dancer. When I make the statement,...

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Fuck my husband

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...

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Black dancers don’t make any money?

Perhaps this isn’t the case where you live? But I’m working throughout Georgia, North Carolina, and South Carolina. I can speak only from my own experience… I know several gorgeous dancers of color. Some are Latino, one is Asian, and the remaining are African American. Most of the Latinos do very well, and so does the Asian. I frequently hear complaints from those who are Black, or some mix thereof. I cannot speak...

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What’s with the arm bands?

Dear Devon, So what’s the deal with go-go boys wearing those bands up around the top of their biceps?  What’s that all about? -Eli Hey Eli, The bands above the biceps 1) are a place to be tipped if touching other parts of the body isn’t allowed  2) are a place to keep tips if your underwear gets too full (and looks like a baggy diaper or the money starts poking/rubbing badly) 3) advertise that others are tipping you...

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Dating an exotic dancer: What you need to know

Last week there was a bit of a crisis with one of my friends and his girlfriend. She’d found some text messages on his phone that were (to an uninformed eye) extrememly shady and hurtful at best. I had to explain to her why she should not be upset about this particular set of messages from another woman. I was surprised that after nearly a year there were so many details she wasn’t aware of. My friend should have explained...

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A response: “These porn stars. Where do they all come from?”

Many of the threads on the site where I chat are ridiculous, stupid, infuriating, bitchy, mean, and generally worthless; however, they tend to generate some classic flame wars, so that makes them tolerable. I admit that my own contributions have often taken them in that direction. I’m not innocent in this. However, there is one thread running right now that is particularly interesting to me. The paraphrased title of the thread...

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Selecting music for a show

I was asked recently by another dancer for advice on putting music together for a performance. This depends, of course, on a wide variety of factors, so the best I can do is offer suggestions for combining music. I can’t really make specific recommendations, because everyone’s taste is so vastly different. For example, I absolutely worship at the altar of Janet Jackson, but my dancer friend Rocco up north is non-plussed by...

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Getting through the bad nights…

I’ve said this before, but I want to remind myself and all my adult entertainment friends of something I was told by Carlos (he seems to be my exotic dance guru – and for good reason, too!): Remember that you are valuable beyond what your earn. Separate your self-worth from what you make. You are more than your money. Working for tips is hard. You can’t plan. Some nights you’re on. Others, not so much....

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I don’t like a man with too many muscles…

In yet another example of how inaccurately I see myself, I was told by a patron last Saturday night that “I don’t like you big, muscley men. I like the skinny boiz.” Wow. I’m 5’7″ or 5’8″, and even with all the working out I’ve been doing I still weigh less than #150. But okay. Wasn’t expecting that one. My friend Carlos smiled and said, “Get used to it, papi –...

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