Ava Adore

Obs: Dating Stigma

thestoryofstory:

i’ve known for awhile that my stripping would affect my dating life. my ex-boyfriend’s words spoken long before i started dancing are seared into my memory, “if i knew you ever had stripped, i would never date you.” when i started stripping i thought long, hard thoughts about who would never love me if they knew.

Because we’re easy, or we’ll do anything for money, or we only care about money; because we sleep with all of our customers so we can never be loyal; because our job means compromising ourselves, we be can never be our own whole person, let alone share that with anyone else. Because we share “too much” there—and yet because we’re selfish and “never learned to share at all.”

Because we’re a theoretical ideal that no one wants to take the time to understand or actualize. Translation: a prize to win and then discard (‘Yo, bro, I’m gonna take that stripper home tonight!’). Because we’ll look good on your arm… but don’t let us touch anything (we will ruin it). Because we were never loved as children, we do this; because we do this, we’ll never find love.

Simultaneously desired and unwanted, we are the lost children of the madonna/whore dichotomy. This is what society feeds us strippers about our future, this is what society tells us about who we are and what we want from other people; this is what society tells other people we want in life and love. And it is wrong.

We all know that—it’s finding other people to share our lives with who know it, too. It’s funny to me how most girls working have significant others of some form or other; this is not strictly a single-girl’s-game, and I’d wager not even a majority of us are single. And yet our every relationship is made more complex because of our job.

How many of us hide what we are, even to our significant others, for fear of rejection, for fear that they think the very things of us that society thinks—despite our significant others knowing us more completely, more, well, significantly? That the very word “stripper” the very trip of the tongue twists their minds, contorts us differently?

That rejection by a loved one can be shattering, but so is keeping the secret. Yet I’ve known girls to do it. I don’t do it personally, but I can sympathize with the problem—after all, this isn’t the first time I’ve likened ‘coming out stripper’ to my coming out as (very fucking) gay. The weight of self-secrets is always a heavy burden to share.

And then, the opposite side… Being very up-front, but even then, there’s no guarantee. Lilah was up-front with her prior man: arguably, she could not have been more up-front… like Story, she met her man as a client. Many of Lilah’s relationship complications with him directly stemmed from his difficulty accepting her job, despite knowing what she did—precisely what she did—from day one.

Me, I’m up-front too (in case you hadn’t noticed). The lesbian stripper combo has kept me skirtchasing and single by both choice and situation for two years, save for a brief fling with another dancer. Which is generally how I like it. I meet girls, I give them the ‘up-front stripper’ talk, we dance in the sheets (safety first!), we move on.

My girlfriend Leuven (more on that later) read Story’s post and wrote me this message to wake up to, which I found touching enough to share in a way I think only other strippers could ever appreciate:

I remember that was the first thing you told me about yourself (possibly even before your name) and I was confused as to why you felt like you had to forewarn me or something… I guess I understand now, but I still maintain that anybody who thinks you can’t seriously date a stripper because they’re not “pure” (or whatever that idiot thought) is ignorant and a fool.

To do what you do, it takes confidence, drive, perseverance, and strength. Anyone who turns down a girl like THAT is missing out… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t date you DESPITE your occupation. It’s not any kind of concession… It’s a piece of you I admire. And aside from that, as long as you’re comfortable, happy, and at peace with yourself, no one else’s opinion even fucking matters.

I leave you with that, because I think she says it better than I could, and it’s exactly what I’d say to you, fellow dancers. It’s how I feel about it—how many of us feel about our jobs versus our relationships—and there have got to be more folks out there who understand it, too. If you have any significant-other-stories to share, feel free, I’d love to hear your experiences battling these love-sex-stripping stereotypes.