MY NAME IS BECKY, AND I HAVE PROBLEMS

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  • Becky

Don't Cry Over Spilt Strippers

Updated: Feb 23, 2019


I don't want to stereotype people based on their "profession" but at the end of the day, male strippers are tools. It should go without saying, they are the king of fuckboys, and you should not entertain them...but apparently it does need to be said. They are hot, tan, tall, meat bags that are literally paid to make women scream by shaking their butts, flexing their pecks and sitting on your face. But I would also say that there is a SERIOUS level of insecurity that goes in to being a male stripper. For lady strippers, they can make a grand a night, EASILY. For male strippers, they're barely over minimum wage. They have baggage and weird upbringings that leave them wanting attention. They're like naked leeches that feed on people gawking at their physique. Knowing all of this, how in the fuck did I get involved with any? Great question!

So once upon a time, at a community function to support a local air force base, there were some local "celebrity" strippers. They were all very polite, they played with the puppies at our booth, we took some pictures and followed each other on Instagram. It was all friendly at this point. No sexual interest because strippers. One of the guys and I would chat about how he was looking for side modeling gigs because they make such poor money, and I would send him any opportunities that would pop up. That was the extent of our relationship...until he started saying some weird stuff like "coffee and fuck". Maybe that's the Australian way of saying "Netflix and chill", but first off:

  1. No one actually says that or asks that as a real question to someone

  2. Coffee and fuck sounds gross like something you'd do in an alley way somewhere

  3. That is abrasive

Later on, I come to find out that this guy (Stripper 1) used to fuck around with this girl I work with. He was always very sexual with her and a fuckboy. She also described him as immature and controlling and that he went off the deep end when she shut him down about wanting something more, or nothing at all. Since I knew her a lot longer and better than this clown, I took her word for it and kinda shut down our conversations.

The other guy (Stripper 2) would just comment on my stories, and we'd have casual banter, but again nothing that implied any actual interest. He invited me to the show one night, so I took my roommate because why not?! We didn't have anything else going on, and we're up for a laugh. We met up with him before the show, had a nice conversation and then got in line when the doors opened. We walked in the doors and an usher asked if I was (my name) because they had a special seat for me. YIKES! I end up getting called on stage for my buddy, Stripper 2's dance...Let's just say it was an aggressive lap dance, I was picked up and almost flashed the crowd my ass because I was in a skirt, and then he proceeded to do a middle split on my face while I was laying on the ground. Did I already say YIKES, because FUCKIN YIKES!

After the show we continued to chat like normal. He was new to the local show and that was his first time "doing his solo" with "someone he knows". Since he hadn't been in town long, he'd ask about things to do for fun. We talked about going to the mountains one day to see the snow etc. so I tell my friend I mentioned above and tell her to invite Stripper 1. Why? Because then Stripper 2 would have a friend and because she had been talking about going up there with me. Kill 2 birds with one stone. Well the night before we were supposed to go to the mountain, he invites me over to hang out. INSERT RED FLAG HERE. Should not have gone. Hindsight, that was stupid, but I was in a fuck it place after concluding a series of other annoying fuck boys. I was in it for the lol's.

So I show up to his apartment and it's a super nice complex. But he has NO FURNITURE INSIDE WHICH IS SUPER WEIRD! Apparently it's so he and his roommates (other strippers) have room to practice tricks in the living room...but I still think it's weird. Get a futon, bro. So long story short we watch some Netflix and have the least impressive sex I have ever endured in my life. You'd think a stripper would have all the moves...but no moves. None. It was like high school amateur hour. I was shocked. What was even more shocking was his wiener!

The dang thing looked like a tardigrade (see above).

So I didn't make eye contact with this thing before the deed because there was zero build up. After the fact I had to keep my face quiet because I was internally screaming WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?! Fortunately he fell asleep like immediately after so I could google this freaky appendage. I had never seen anything like this and was seriously concerned that this is what an STD looked like. Maybe this was what chlamydia or something else freaky, looks like. Fortunately, it was just an uncircumcised weenie. Apparently in other countries, circumcision isn't as popular as it is in America (there's a great documentary about it, which makes circumcision actually sad af. All of the taboos about having the skin sweater, aren't true like about hygiene and stuff. So while it makes the weenie look prettier, it's seriously inhumane. If I had a son, I probably wouldn't get him cut, FYI.) so I had never seen one of these hooded fellas before. ANYWAY, because I am a nice house guest and glad that I don't have some terrifying disease, I turn off his TV, tuck him in, shut the bedroom door, and lock his front door on my way out.

Of course the next morning, he "wakes up late" and we aren't going to the mountains, and he's going out of town the next day so we don't reschedule. FYI, he didn't wake up late. Saw his ass active on Instagram but just assumed we weren't going because he got laid and at the end of the day, that's all anyone wanted. But what about Stripper 1? Let's drag his ass back in to this circle.

So remember how I mentioned my friend fuckin around with Stripper 1? Yes. So I told her to invite him and the four of us were gonna go to the mountain. She is then telling me that day (the day we were supposed to go but weren't) that Stripper 1 was being all rude and crazy at her, and unfollowed her on Instagram. So I go and look at my followers (yeah I use an app to track these things. Why? Because I'm super petty and unfollow people that I know, that unfollow me. Bitch bye? Bye bitch.) and he unfollowed me too! So of course, I play dumb and send him a message about if he was gonna go with us and he FUCKING UNLOADS ON ME. Talking about how I am a disgusting, nasty woman for talking to both Stripper 1 and Stripper 2 and how I am mean because we made fun of him behind his back. So here's where I pump the brakes.

  1. I wasn't talking to Stripper 1 at all. We barely exchanged conversation that wasn't business except for when he invited me to "coffee and fuck" (which is SO BARF! Never say that to people!)

  2. I'm single. I'm allowed to talk to whoever and however many people I want.

  3. Those strippers take different ladies home ALL THE TIME so fuck your double standards.

  4. We never made fun of him, he just has the world's most fragile ego. (My friend sent him a screenshot of our conversation where I said to invite him and I used laughing emojis. Not making fun of him, but here we are taking strippers to the mountain. That's comical all on it's own).

Anyway. He says A LOT of other hateful, and untrue things. Because he's just a stupid stripper, and I know his hateful comments are just misogyny and disillusions, so I should've just let it go and said FUCK THAT GUY because I know who I am and I don't need to take that shit...but his onslaught of comments broke me. I was hysterically crying. Like hyper-fuckin-ventilating. The things he had to say seriously triggered some PTSD for me, because no one has ever spoken to me in such a hateful way besides my ex. No human being, should ever speak to another human being that way, even out of anger. It comes from a place of immature insecurity where they have to lash out because they weren't raised with tools to deal with emotion. Or brains. I eventually got over it, but it fucked me up for a while.

Moral of the story is the title. Don't cry over spilt strippers! They have girls running in and out of their beds daily. Wanna have unimpressive sex with strange weenies? Go for it. Want to save yourself the energy? Swipe left. They're literal fuck bags for our amusement, and they should stay that way. *DISCLAIMER - I do not look down on people that are strippers. They may be very kind people. But I am roping male strippers in to a stereotype because of the many I've met and the one I've entertained sexually, they're all the same personality profile. You do you, boo.*

 
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