Ava Adore

DSM of Dbags: Type G: “Money Talks.”

Installment seven of the catalogue of the douchebags I meet.

Last night’s Douchebag of the Night: Type G, “Money Talks.”

The psychology of Money Talks involves sheer desperation and very grabby hands. We don’t why he can’t seem to get ass from any other female on the planet, but there he is, in his tipping glory. Unlike other douches, Money Talks has the willingness to spend—but also thinks this buys the privilege to mistake a strip club for a legitimate brothel.

Money Talks is like the Boss Level of Screwdriver. While the Screwdriver is more mental, and deals in ‘promises’ of sex, Money Talks is physical, and wants instant gratification.

Last night was not the first version of Money Talks that I’ve met, but certainly the worst. Usually we don’t waste time with grabby folks and walk before they can even blink—but that kind isn’t usually tipping 20s consistently.

After Paul had left, this new dude tipped me a 5 and called me over, so I decided to go see what he was about. It started out alright, he tipped me a 20 right off the bat, and slipped some singles into my t-back, and we got to talking.

It was the usual bullshit, would I like to be his girlfriend etc, all part of the game and harmless enough. The first red light that went off was when he said, ‘I’m hot, right? You’re attracted to me. Say you’re attracted to me. Then you could tip me instead.’

I told him the tipping went one way here and the creepiness was starting to edge out of his eyes as he got more comfortable with me. He tipped me another ten in singles and started to get super uncomfortable with the touching—and I mean really uncomfy.

I told him, as we do, “Boundaries!” and he got pouty but listened for all of 2 minutes before he went back to trying to touch my vajay over my t-back. I pushed him away and said, “Seriously, take the hint. Do not fucking touch me again or I am walking.”

He begged me to stay and tipped me another 20. After some useless banter of really inappropriate innuendos and him trying unsuccessfully to get me to put my hand on his groinal region, he tried to get under my t-back and I actually slapped him in the face.

I was beyond pissed and really uncomfortable, so I told him that’s a 20 dollar fine, because I was gonna take it and walk. I learned the hard way with Lilah that sometimes the bottom line in the club is that money is the only language anyone understands.

They want to hand you their wallet? Take it. They want to take advantage of you? Take advantage of them. He tried to wheedle and negotiate his way into a) paying less of a fine and b) still keeping me there. I told him to have a nice life and walked away.

By this time Steve was waiting for me with a drink like a godsend. I saw, unfortunately, that Ra. had taken my place; I’ll do a profile on Ra. at some point, she is an amazing person. Anyway, I didn’t want her to go through what I’d gone through.

I excused myself a moment from Steve and went to grab her away, which she was appreciative of, because she’s a little less direct than I am. We went into the back and complained to the manager. We got him kicked out. Bastard deserved it.

In conclusion to the sort of gent he is?
His first words to Ra. were: “So, do you like being molested?”
(You cannot make this shit up.)