Ava Adore

On Strength

<sub>“You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet.” —Fight Club.

“But I’m still here and you’re still here and if you’re reading this, it means you never gave up. Because you’re stronger than they think you are. Because you’re stronger than you think you are.” —Christopher Gutierrez.</sub>

Sometimes the job tries to get the best of you. Sometimes a guy’s above and beyond the call of asshole. Or maybe it’s your second or third night and you just feel so lost, like you can’t possibly hack this job. Or maybe it’s your seventh month and suddenly you feel lost and like you can’t possibly hack this job.

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Obs: Camaraderie

The girls at the House are really unusual. Not only are we all really, really good looking (and if you didn’t say that in a Zoolander accent, shame on you), 98% of us are total sweethearts who actually care about and look after one another there.

We all have those nights. Nights where you will feel ashamed that you’re crying in the locker room. It will be rare, but it will happen.

Nights you just got into a huge fight with your roommate and its irreconcilable and you used to work together and now you don’t. Or maybe the night your exboyfriend calls and threatens your life. Or maybe the night your kid is sick and you feel helpless.

Sometimes it feels like a sorority of skin, these girls, your sisters. You don’t start out knowing them, but you do in time, these girls slow to unfurl; and when they are gone a few too many days, you start to worry about them. I care more for these girls than any other coworkers I’ve had.

I think it’s because we all share something deeper: there’s something to this that I just can’t explain… and I do wonder if it’s a culture particular to the House. I hear about some catty clubs, some cutthroat clubs. But not ours, and that’s why Lilah and I chose it.

I do hope that somewhere, in other clubs, is a drunken cuddly Ds. ready to help and to listen; I hope there’s an Ag. to talk some loving common sense into a dramatic situation; a Da. with a smile and tight arms for hugging.

I hope for a club where not only your bouncers and managers protect you, but you feel protected by the very bond you share with your coworkers. As Da. said last night, “I don’t know if it’s different other places—but I know I’m happy for it here.”

Shift: 07.21.10, 8pm-3am.

I am actually not going to talk about last night.

It was one of the most emotionally draining evenings of my entire past year, surpassed by only two instances I can think of. Needless to say, it’s what happens when your personal life comes into work and you can’t extricate the two. It was so stressful I puked and later on I was excused an hour early.

What I will say is that, despite being amateur night, they didn’t ‘have enough girls to run the contest’—or they just didn’t feel like throwing it, who knows. So the pattern of the evening was a little off… we had a rush at 10pm, instead of midnight and 2, which made for a busier start to the evening and a quiet end, as far as amount of clientele goes.

I did about 6 or 8 dances, I lost count, often with men who never really sat with me for longer than 10 minutes—which is a blessing because it made the job easy but hard because I don’t remember any of their names, except Al, who is an asian gent who is a regular of Ry.’s (who got her job back! yet to see her though).

Regulars came in and out last night, I saw P Escalade and Hue AKA Tiffany Bond and a few others. Ds. stopped by; she’s not mad at me, and was actually really supportive, as usual, of only the second time I’ve been upset at the House in the 7 months I’ve been working there.

Tested out—and am in love with—one of my new costumes, which I call Pinot Noir. More on that in another post. No new bruises. No unknown douchebags. Had one set I felt really stellar during, which was a good feeling, and unsurprisingly it was to House of 1000 Corpses. Costumes were Pinot Noir and Limewire.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: B

Shift: 07.20.10, 6pm-2am.

It was a complicated night, lots of highs and lows. Uncharacteristically, I’m going to do a “Read More” cut in my shift summary because it’ll get lengthy… but interesting.

Started out at 6, met up with Lilah who was already working, came in with Ri. and Ny. Chatted with Lo. for awhile, who was on day shift, then I sat with John, a regular that Au. introduced me to a month or so back. An older gent, he was not very talkative, but nice enough, and he got one dance from me before he left around 7.

I sat with Tony for awhile, another regular with whom I’ve danced before; he was high, as usual. I think I enjoy his company because trying to figure out the thought processes behind his sentences is like a game. He bought Ny. and I X-Rated shots before he left—and he inspired the new “You Know You’re A…” series I’ll be doing.

After that was some serious dead space until about 10, when two gents walked in and sat across the bar from us, Anthony and Mike. Mike waved at me, so Ny. and I went over to talk to the two of them. It was clear that I hit it off way better with Anthony than I did with Mike, who seemed kind of withdrawn.

Anthony, on the other hand, was completely awesome. He joked around a lot with us and I wish I could recall even half of the funny things that were said. It started off with how he’d been golfing that day and it had been “his best golfing day to date”—also his only. He joked that his ‘mama dressed him,’ khakis and all.

Not fifteen minutes into it, he looks right at me and says, “Well, let’s get it over with,” with a wink. Mike called him gay earlier and it became a running joke that he actually doesn’t like vagina, so Ny. and I were to ‘turn him straight.’ (Don’t get me started on the politics, okay?) I was his first dance.

When I came back, the three of us talked for some more, and Anthony said he wanted Ny. next, and then the both of us together. So he took Ny. back for a lapdance and I hung back and waited for them. They came back—and so did Mike, who had also gone for a lapdance with another dancer—but Mike was livid.

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Shift: 07.14.10, 8pm-4am.

Slow night. It seemed promising at first, because it was decently busy at 9pm, but as the night wore on we got less and less customers, plus no 2-o’clock-rush (aka Drunk Boys Have the Most Fun). So it was not a very productive evening.

Lilah, Ny., and I began the night with our Douchebag of the Evening! Insert canned applause sound byte here. We sat with Jimbo (we can not make this up) for about an hour, and he did tip us, but then he pulled a pseudo-Bank Run/ner…

He asked us to change into our more off-beat costumes. He wanted me to pull out the Catholic Schoolgirl (which I like, never wear any more but just carry around cos it’s a staple) and Lilah in her nun getup and Ny. in her robin’s egg blue PVC.

True to form, by the time we came back to collect and show off, he was nowhere to be found. Cowardice at its classiest.

After that I had the pleasure of bullshitting with John from Westnyle (metal band, check them out) and we talked for hours, mainly about music and the human condition, as if you would be surprised by that. He gave me one dance, my only of the night.

And, to date, hands-down, my favourite dance. I don’t know if I can even call it that. He kept making faces and funny movements the whole time, which made ‘sexy dancing’ pretty much impossible. We spent most of the five minutes laughing.

He was my last customer and I was his “Fifth favourite person.” Which I suppose is a plus, since by the first fifteen minutes of talking I was his ninth favourite person, so I moved up in rank.

Other than that, I just hung out with the girls. Lo. came in briefly; I hadn’t seen her since Friday, apparently she’s doing day shifts now—sad times. And Ds. got wrecked, which, if it is at all possible, made her even more adorable.

I am not kidding when I say I brushed her hair for her like a little girl. She was so giggly and cute and entertaining. I believe it is an all-out talent for a girl to be absolutely darling while she’s absolutely shitfaced.

Minor bruising. Costumes: Limewire, Catholic Schoolgirl, Punk Rock Princess, Boifriend.

Douchebag Count: 1.
$hift Grade: D

Strippercrushes

Alright… this is another one of those weird, strippers-only locker room conversations. As I’ve said before, it’s a whole other world with its own guidelines and we all recognize it; that was actually something Lo., Mi., and I were laughing about last night—how you could never repeat what we say ‘in public’ because it wouldn’t be taken the same way.

Context. The context is everything.

Anyway… Most of the girls have ‘strippercrushes.’ It’s like a straight girl saying “I’d go gay for so-and-so,” or the slang for the hetero-equivalent of “girlcrush”—which is to say, there’s a surface value to it. There is a quality about them which makes them crushworthy, were you to swing that way, but it’s not serious.

There’s a level of inaccessibility; most (though not all) “girlcrushes” are on celebrities, models, and so forth. In hetero-land, it often also involves a talent, like singing (e.g. Hayley Williams). And that’s valid, it’s nice to see people appreciated across spectrums and appreciated within the growing safety nets of expanding sexualities.

Strippercrushes are kind of like that.

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Shift: 06.21.10, 6pm-2am.

Ugh. Where to start. I’m not sure anyone was even relevant. It was another “barely a dozen customers” kinda evening. So rather than run each customer down one by one, since no one stayed very long, I’ll just give you the highlights.

Sammy came back in. Only this time I do count him as a certified douchebag for the evening. While he gave me $300 for listening to him last time, this time he only flipped me a $20, and gave all the girls a hard time, would barely tip anyone, and if anything a dollar, even Jo., whom he usually tips well too.

The icing on the cake was when I was called to stage and he turns to me, full Father Figure style, and says, ‘If you dance on stage I am leaving.’ I was like, ‘You watched me last time.’ And he just repeated himself. This nonsense after asking if I wanted to have his babies. Literally. I am not sitting with him again.

The other highlight was a gent named Greg who stopped me from sitting with this really nice guy John, which I now regret. John wound up getting a private with Ds., who took my seat after I relinquished it to sit with Greg. John is a sweet guy, graphic designer for an in-house company, so we had a lot to talk about.

Greg on the other hand was alllll about getting a dance from me (sound familiar yet?) and just wanted to hang out with Ts. (a new Russian girl I actually really enjoy spending time with) and I first. And then the infamous statement: ‘I just gotta run to my car to get more money.’ Car, ATM, Bank—same difference: Bank Run/ner.

I made pretty much no cash apart from what I made on stage: everyone was really into my Punk Rock Princess costume, I got tipped really well for that and rocked the handcuffs with it to House of 1000 Corpses (finally got around to adding that officially, only took me a month).

The only dance I got was because Au. was watching out for me again. She’s really sweet and I love working with her and I hope to get her back, too, soon; we were both hanging out and bored and she called in a regular of hers, Michael, whom she let give me a dance. He was very well-spoken.

I should have some of my regulars in tonight… god willing… and I was looking forward to returning her the favour, but she called me today and said the House had fired her for ‘making out with a customer,’ which seems like a pretty ridiculous charge when girls are kept who do worse. I’m hoping the House changes its mind and rehires her.

Minor friction bruises, inner right thigh, but too tiny to care or take photos of. Costumes were La Cage and Punk Rock Princess. In personal news, I did feel a lot better after dancing and it definitely helped clear my head to just not think for awhile. I love dancing.

Douchebag Count: 2.
$hift Grade: D

Play Within a Play

Those of you who have ever studied Shakespeare, performed theatre, or stepped inside a strip club have some idea… It’s all, to a degree, performance—and there are plays within plays. The audience changes, but the actors remain.

Respect and trust are key here. I’m friendly with all of the girls, but I’m just closer with a few, and some I will push more boundaries with than others because through experience I’ve come to trust them as performers.

This is vital concerning “bisexuality” in the workplace. I put this in air quotes because, currently, I am the only all-out lesbian at the House. There are a few authentic bisexuals—Dy. and Jn., for example—but most are just acting the play within the play.

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Shift: 05.31.10, 8pm-4am.

It was a good night. Everything came pretty easy to me. I was the first one up, since it was holiday, so we got shift pay (covers tip out +10!), and luck was in my favour: the first guy in the place took a shining to me.

His name was Al, or El, I think it was Al; his English was good but his accent was heavy. No dances, but he enjoyed tipping me, so I let him. He was a little grabby, but otherwise okay. Sets overall left me with over 100 singles, so I’m okay with that, too.

Some friends came in and I chilled with them and Dy. for a little while… Oh! Al paid to see me kiss Dy. and Ds., so I did. I have the life, I tell you. Last time, Lx. asked me if it was torture to work at the House as a lesbian: I said, only on the good days.

After that, I got heavily tipped for giving this very big man, Greg (not the regular), a massage; his whole back was a total mess of knots and hardness, it took all of my weight to really get at it, so the tips were appreciated. It was definitely work.

After the set that, thankfully, called my hands away from that, I got immediately called over by a younger, 20something gent named Tiger who proceeded to get 1 dance and 1 private with me. He was a gentleman and I enjoyed working with him very much.

Attempt #2 with handcuffs went a lot better. They went over particularly well in private (since it makes the boys not touch me!) and I got better using them on stage. Probably going to keep them in my repertoire, along with the fan and the riding crop.

Costumes tonight: Girl Friday, Hot for Teacher, Pixie.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: A

Obs: Normalization

There’s an odd sisterhood that goes on in the locker room, as I assume happens whenever you get a bunch of women continuously in a small area. Especially considering any women numbering more than 3 should be given at least enough space to house a volcano. But more on that later. What I was getting at, is certain things become normalized.

Like tits and ass—Yes, we do walk around naked back there. We’re on stage half naked, and in the locker room we change, and sometimes we get lazy halfway through, or something funny happens, or whatever. Point is, nudity becomes passe. You get to see more female body parts than anyone ever, apart from maybe Shane from the L Word. “Does my ass look good in this?” becomes a very serious question.

& Like romance in general—This is a perfect jaded girl’s profession, and maybe why it suits me so well right now. It’s all a show. Which is why bfs/gfs/etc aren’t really allowed in. And it’s probably the one place you can say to another girl, “I know you’re straight, but would you do me if you weren’t?” without it ever being awkward. Or even thought about twice.

(PS Ds. said she totally would. What’s funnier is when whether or not Ds. would let me do her became topic of conversation one night, about 3 girls asked her just to hear the answer.)