Sunday, November 11, 2012

The Friendster


I often find myself in position of being a “friendster” to most of the dancers I know. I’m both a friend and a customer at the same time. While this is generally a good thing to me, it does have some odd things about it. For technically curious friendster.com was actually one of the first semi-successful social networking sites, proceeding both myspace and Facebook. It also failed fairly quickly and is currently a kind of weird gaming network site out of Kuala Lumpur.

The best thing about a being a friendster is the fact the dancer trusts you. You don’t have to worry about the dancer ordering dinner and $20 drink every time the waitress walks up. For the most part it’s much less stressful for the dancer. She doesn’t have to worry about being on guard as much. I don’t think any dancer completely relaxes at work. I never completely relax at my job. I definitely have the most fun with dancers I’ve built up credibility with.

There are some down sides to this situation. There are times when I turn down an invitation from a dancer, I feel like I’m blowing off a friend. To some degree I am, but I’m also turning down a business transaction. Some dancers will take advantage of this and play on my emotions. They are having a bad day/week/month and they really need me to come in to make things go better. I used to bite on this and turn into the strip club Sit Galahad and head off to save a dancer from a bad night. I don’t do this any more. I’m paying for the privilege of her company. It can get really expensive and irritating quickly.

Like most long term business relationships, it’s a mixture of both friendship and money. My job is like this as well. I have customers I like and enjoy dealing with regardless of the professional issues. There are also customers I find utterly revolting or inane but I have to paint on smile and pretend to enjoy their conversation when I’d rather drive a spike into skull.

I know it’s in the dancer’s best interest to pretend she likes me. I wonder if she is secretly rolling her eyes at my jokes, or mentally plotting different ways kill me as a way to get through the conversation. Most dancers are much better at feigning interest than I am at figuring it out so I’ll just stay fat, dumb, and happy.

As enlighten as I’d like to think I am being friends with dancers outside the club is still a little awkward at times. One time I fixed a computer monitor for a dancer’s parents. I figured I was just going to drop it off at her place on my way home from work. Instead I ended driving over to her parent’s house and hooked up the monitor for them. It was really odd meeting her parents. Her parents knew she stripped. While they weren’t thrilled with her job they were supportive of her. They also knew I was one her customers from the club.

If they were uncomfortable with me they never showed it. I could never shake the fact that I used to pay their daughter to take her clothes off. The entire time there they warm and gracious to me the entire time I was there. They just treated me like I was one of the family. Some strippers come from screwed up families, but not all of them. I don’t think I’ve met nicer down to earth people than her parents

Most of my friendships with dancers outside the club never last. I suppose this isn’t any different than job. There have been people I’ve worked with over the years that I’ve become good friends with, yet over time we lose track of each other. When you work with somebody the job becomes a common point of interest. When they go somewhere else you lose that. Not immediately at first, but after a while things change some much that they no longer interested.

With the dancer the common point of interest is the club. When she quits working at the club you lose the point of interest. The social awkwardness of strip clubs makes things that much more difficult. A lot of dancers want to break completely from the stripper world. They don’t want to explain they know me from when they worked as a stripper. There is a social bias against the strip club world. Life is hard enough without having to contend with that as well. 

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Hitting the Gym


The next time I’m heading to a strip club I’m going to tell them that I’m “Going to the gym”. From a purely pedantic point of view it’s an accurate statement. The etymological source of the word gym is the Greek word “gymnos” (γυμνός). Gymnos means naked in ancient Greek. The Greek term “gymnazo “ (γυμνάζω) which means “to train naked” is derived from gymnos. The Greeks felt that athletics are best done naked. Gymnazo eventually got Latinized into gymnasium by the Romans.

Gymnasium made it into the English language eventually, though the naked part got dropped and gymnasium just meant a place far athletic training. Still the only place I know of where people train naked (or train to be naked) is a strip club. Maybe somebody should name a club the Gymnazo. It can’t be any worse than Pitiful Princess. So, see you at the gym.