A world of false illusions, fantasies, and lies; the confining walls of the strip club was the perfect place for me to hide.
I could be anyone I wanted to – a fantasy in my mind. For seven years, it gave me the escape I needed from reality, and most of all, myself.
I do believe that this is part of the allure of strip clubs, aside from the obvious sexual titillation. I wonder how many of the girls that strip away their dignity and souls are living a lie; even more so, how many of the men that populate the clubs are?
It always bothered me when people who knew me for many years would say after finding out I worked at a strip club, “I’m not surprised.”
To tell the truth, I’m not surprised either, as I now look back in retrospect.
I was damaged before I walked through those doors – just like everyone else. It didn’t matter whether I came into work or play there, something inside told me it was OK to be there. Perhaps it was my skewed moral compass, and this was just another step along that rocky deviant path.
Curiosity played a huge part of it – I wanted to know the behind the scenes secrets.
I knew the first time I walked in that I would write something about working there. I wanted to sample that corrupt lifestyle. I was deep into my deviancy. I reveled in it. I loved and embraced it. I got caught in the drama, money, glam and sex a place like that afforded me.
It consumed me.
Two years ago, almost to the day, I made my cut and run from this lifestyle of lies, delusion, and debauchery. I couldn’t handle living a dual life any longer; I knew it had to stop. I had to cut that part of me off and let it bleed out – it was almost like a divorce. I needed to get back to myself, to my truth and my roots.
I needed a spiritual infusion – I was severely dehydrated and depleted of essential energies. I had to find my balance.
After two years, I’m fairly confident I am there, finally.
At first, I thought I had to shrug off and deny the deviant feelings I had inside of me – that was very uncomfortable and I felt as if I were living yet another lie.
It wasn’t until recently I realized that I need to embrace all the feelings – whether good or bad, normal or deviant – that make me, me. They are all a part of me and make up the fabric of my life.
As I sit back now and recollect both good and bad times I had with others at the club, I feel a bit of nostalgia. I had good times there, a lot of good times. I am thankful and blessed for the lives I came into contact with, and those I helped impact and change.
I adore the long-lasting friendships I’ve forged with a few people who have also lived to tell the tales. I genuinely feel for those that are still caught in that all-consuming fiery whirlwind of sex and greed, and especially for those still in the Queen Bee’s court.
Do I regret any of my time spent there? Absolutely not. Never regret. There is always a lesson learned.
Ahhh, the lessons… There were so many, I’ve lost count.
The lesson that is staring me in the face these days is one of being genuine to myself and my feelings. Honesty. Truth. Trust. Love. They all go hand in hand.
I still wonder, even though I know it is pointless, what was it that changed inside Queen Bee’s mind to make her place and plunge the knives of deception not only in my back but into the backs of a few others that were in her coveted court.
With the other girls she turned on, I’m sure it had to do with jealousy. Anyone who threatened to take away her spotlight was always made to look like a troublemaker and soon ejected from the hive.
I witnessed that so many times over the years that I lost count.
In my case, I’m thinking that a little bird told her of my plans to leave the club later that year – that, and I was no longer a doting subservient drone and had served my purpose to her.
She always had to have the upper hand and the last laugh. I took away the joy of her getting me to explode on her so she could fire me.
I have the last laugh, and it still continues.
Queen Bee is but one of many characters I will write about in the years to come, although she was the most colorful and corrupt one of the bunch. She knew the power she had at her calling and used it to her full potential. I admire her persistence and drive. Just imagine what a woman like that could do with something positive and worthwhile in the world.
What a waste.
I know she’s read my tales and being a narcissist, has shared them with others. This is, of course, an attempt to get her ego stroked, “Oh no, that’s so wrong, you are not like that!”
I know if I were still in her court and someone else had written these words, I would be right along with everyone else fluffing her ego while thinking silently to myself, “Nailed it!”
But I digress…
And now, I address Queen Bee, herself.
I just want to take a moment and ask you to remember when, towards the end of my tenure at the club, I would sit in the corner and write… You said to me on more than one occasion, “I had better be a character in your tales!”
Be careful what you wish for.
Thank you, Queen Bee, for everything, especially the thousands of hits to my website over the past year. Your selfish ego and narcissism have provided me with quite a following and writing platform.
Stay tuned, there’s so much more to come.