I'm tired now; it was kind of a long day. Which means I worked more than 5 hours. But the first two were pretty dead, and I didn't do much of anything. Then, after a stage set, I was approached by an older guy who wanted to negotiate some couch dances. He went into a little description of how he has his favorite girl at the club, who wasn't there today, and that he didn't like dances, but rather to have her sit on his lap topless and just chat with him. "And she kisses me," he said. Huh? Yes, he told me he kisses this dancer. I'm tending to not believe him at this point, because what he says he usually spends on her ($200) doesn't seem like it would be near enough to tempt this pretty successful dancer into such antics. I tell him that I don't think I can deliver what she does (if she does), but that we can give it a shot my way and see if he likes it.

Well, this guy is the neediest customer I've ever run into. He discusses his annual income and his IQ, two things that I don't want to hear from anyone. I'm impressed by what people do, not what they say. Not to mention it's incredibly tacky. And then he goes on to tell me how useful an attractive, college-educated woman like myself could be to him in his professional life. "I like (the other dancer), but she doesn't have a college education," he says. That's a bad criteria to use when judging strippers--or anyone, for that matter. On and on he went, occasionally trying to cop a feel. My arm fell asleep, and then my leg. The waves of neediness coming off of this guy were so exhausting, and finally I excused myself after about five songs.

And then he hands me $20.

"Honey, this is a $20. We were up here for five songs," I tell him, having established with him earlier that time in the couch dance area is $20 a song whether I'm dancing or chatting topless. I would so have rather done five dances than listen to this guy. Fortunately he hits the bar and gets more cash. Sigh. It was the hardest $100 I think I've ever earned, and I've done it with $5 dances before.

I am so worn out I'm shaking when I get on stage; my leg is still partially asleep, and I'm just so amazed at this man's endless blather about his business and his (way lowball) offer for a night with me, which he then rescinded to tell me I should accompany him on business trips, upon which I would probably decide "to just go ahead and do it (him) anyway."

As he hands me the money and turns from the bar, the girl who's coming off stage says, "You never buy dances from me, asshole!" (With an attitude like that, how could he resist?) No big loss, I wanted to tell her.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening was full of low-maintainence customers. I had a lot of fun talking to a couple of guys on the floor, and the fella from a couple of weeks ago who handed me money just for hanging out at the bar was back. I didn't do a single dance for him, but he gave me $100 while I was at the bar. He simultaneously slipped $50s to another dancer and me, and went to the restroom. She looked at me and said, "Why did he just give us fifty bucks?" Well, hell, it never occured to me to ask why before. "He just does that," I told her. And he's funny, too. So that helped a lot, and my mood was much improved by the time I left.