Sometimes you know you're dating a stripper, but then sometimes you have no idea because she's lied to you after sharing the same oxygen with you about what she does to pay her parents back, her 'friend' because she was borrowed money she claims can't be afforded to be returned right now, and if you're really lucky, she'll say her mortgage, which means she rents from someone she knows (strippers can't buy houses; you kidding me?)
As a customer, if you paid a cover charge to see a girl who says, "I'm in debt. I just need to pay off my student loans," hit yourself . . . twice . . . with a barbed-wire bat, then afterwards take a strand and rub it in and out of your ass crack. If nothing else it will simulate what you'd be feeling anally if you dropped serious money on this wanton, pirate.
Baby, walk the plank.
She's a stripper. Deal with the lies in whatever/whichever way you can. Seriously . . . Here's the lowdown:
1. She kisses you after-hours . . . Yea . . . After a few hours of basically licking dollar bills.
Your girl comes home claiming she's living large, seemingly ecstatic to be home near your cock, so she kisses you. This is a win or lose situation because you have no idea if your sampling someone else's DNA from 20 minutes earlier, be it man or woman's. Her mouth is warm and moist so you simply cross your fingers and hope for the best.
But sometimes she's got this untouchable attitude that she's boss. She's even gone so far as to come home after a couple weekends and proclaim the rest of the weeks' expenditures are on her.
You nod your head like a couple weeks ago after she'd originally promised to actually take YOU shopping, but for logic that escapes you at this point in time, you say, "I can't wait," when in actuality you do wait considerably. You'll be waiting until the Second Coming for your new X-Box, suit, car part or whatever she'd originally promised.
To be real honest, if you get a pair of dress-socks out of this stripper, I'm gonna have to ask to see your feet for proof, because I just don't believe she's parting with anything she feels she actually 'earned' under black lights.
2. Private dances: Let's customers suck her tits at 7 p.m., then other customers sucks her tits at 1 a.m. If you're lucky, she has 'hand sanitizer' in her locker and actually knows the fucking combination.
If your girl voluntarily wants to pay one of your bills, I guarantee she's let a different male other than you become gratified by one of her sweet spots. You can gauge this fairly easily:
1. She buys lunch: a customer only felt her tits.
2. She buys dinner: a customer only sucked her pussy.
3. She bails you of jail: you were the second phone call she got that night.
No need for blood on the ceiling or carpet. Like a kidney stone, let it pass and keep eating the fruit until it spoils (17 days . . . Eat it anytime after that, I'm almost positive you'll become sick . . . of something.)
3. She flirts with other employees in the club and assumes you won't hear about it.
Primarily relevant to people who work in the industry and are dating within the club, unless you're dating a substantive lush who doesn't drive and you have to pick her up after every 7-hour stint.
Now obviously here you know your girl is a stripper because of the rusty, piece of shit carriage you have outside pending to take her drunken ass back home. Assuming you come in the club awaiting her stratagemical finale before sliding into street clothes, after a few weeks if you're lucky, someone will approach you and say something about your girl, but if you're smart you can look around within those four weeks and judge if others perceive you as an idiot or not. If you ominously experience this feeling like you're being mocked because of what she does without you in sight, yes, the joke is on you and she's banging someone else in the club, but it's okay because you're likely taking some if not most of her money anyway. She's still sucking the life out of you, sadly.
Succubus: a demon in female form, said to have sexual intercourse with men in their sleep.
If you're dating a stripper, I like to think of you being conscious as 'sleepwalking.' You're not thinking with the right head. And ya know what? There's nothing wrong with a succubus to begin with if you keep your heart outlying your ribcage, even one in spectral form for that matter.
It would basically be just like having an otherworldly fuck-buddy you didn't have to spend money on. Odds are this evanescent cacodemon with a warm spot lodges in a building of some sort, so imagine scanning the local paper for a place to rent and you find one in the area you wish to reside. "Three-bedroom, patio, 2-car garage, heat and succubus included."
I'd lease that out for a year just to give it a shot. American women are bordering the line of alien subspecies anyway. Why not go at it full throttle?
4. When she comes home and brags about how she'd told the new bartender how to make her special drink.
Scene: Somewhere in the kitchen this usually takes place because after she walks in the door, she's gotta pee right away. I'm guessing she's complaining about her night as the door remains open yet continues to talk with the wall while thinking you're listening from the couch, when in actuality you want her to shut the fuck up so you can keep up with what's transpiring on the television.
She doesn't flush the goddamn toilet and likely doesn't wash her hands then walks into the kitchen while still bitching about her night. As she withdraws an alcoholic beverage from the refrigerator/puts whatever she stole from work into it, here comes the good news.
Stripper, "So the bartender was a moron tonight. He didn't even know how to make a Mai Tai."
Innocent dude, "I thought you said you didn't drink at work that much?"
Stripper, "Sometimes. Geez, what are you? My father? Chill the fuck out, dude . . . Got any weed?"
5. If you see her five times, and at least three of those she was wearing an absurd amount of make-up.
Say you meet with a chick, get her number and maybe call her three times; hopefully at night so she won't waste your cellular minutes similar to that of your mortal time. You get through all the rigmarole that is 'getting to know' a woman on your cell because then you can at least be at home while chatting and still possibly accomplish something within your own residence.
Then you meet at dinner/bar or whatever for a couple dates and during that time, she talks about her job as being a waitress at some corner bar roughly 30 minutes from your house. It's likely you don't frequent this mythical establishment so she can manipulate the truth to her liking. The worst scenarios are when these broads voice that they're waitresses/bartenders thus explaining all the singles she's been able to feed into the jukebox and punish you with what she thinks is good music this quarter.
Don't listen to her shit anymore. Take whatever she's wearing and multiply that by 3 and that will give an idea of her actual slut-like nature. Now, up top, how much make-up does she have on? Better yet, do her nails have sequence and patterns atop of them and/or are they abnormally long?
She's a stripper, dude. She doesn't want to tell you because A: She's embarrassed, B: She wants to use/manipulate you for SOMETHING, or C: She's been thinking about quitting within the last month, and some customer of hers had said she could start working for him at the end of the month---employment that will
never surface.
6. Does your girlfriend get cell phone calls . . . at 5a.m. . . . three nights in a row?
Every woman in the country has friends, or what I like to call, " incompetent pro-bono shrinks," and within this friend base are a core of individuals who already know your girlfriend's routine, bet it she works 9-5 p.m., is able to txt message during work, when she picks up her kid on a weekly basis, whatever.
No normal girl out there should have a cell phone blowing up near sunrise because her real friends know better. If you're experiencing fluctuating ringer volumes/her txting after her phone vibrated instead of rang, she's a stripper, dude; that or a prostitute, which these days I'm personally unable to distinguish a difference between.
And why is it like this in stripper fantasy land?
Easy:
Secrets (Shh; don't tell 'em I told ya.)
7. Are you and your girl out in public together and she sees a nice car, then says something off the wall about how she'd like to obtain it?
"Wow! Look over there! I bet that guy has money up the ass!" (Two seconds later,) "Wait, I think I know that guy."
"Holy fuck! Look at that car! I'd put on a strap-on right now and fuck the tailpipe!"
"Look! Awww, coooool. It's pink. I love pink! What day is it?"
. . . She's a stripper, dude.
8. She gets fired from a club but still comes in months afterwards and spends a lot of her time in the dressing room.
Did a routine suddenly break in her nightly patterns? Was she once employed at the club but has since been 'let go' without giving you full disclosure as to why? A month or so passes, does she go back into the club sporadically to 'visit' old friends?
Heh, not only is she a stripper, but she's also a drug dealer. Congrats. You hit the human sludge jackpot.
9. When she comes home and complains about other females at her job who you know are finer than her.
Have you ever met your girlfriend's friends? Doesn't it suck when they have that one who is far superior looking, and you kinda wanna transfer accounts after the first 10 minutes of meeting her? It's not going to get any better, either, because soon, and I mean soon you'll be sticking your girl one night, probably shortly after she has episode number five, then you'll start thinking about her friend in order to release your kids.
But let us say you're well aware how your stripper girlfriend pays her rent (or tries to.) Here's a solid method in which to find out A: How insecure she is, and B: Her level of dedication to any living person.
Say you've met a couple of her stripper buddies either at the club or everyone has gone out together a couple nights. Your girl seems chummy with Sara, and outside of Sara sharing similar if not identical standards with your girlfriend on why it's okay to sublet their bodies for accommodating funds, Sara seems like a real peach.
Within the next few days, start bringing Sara up to your girlfriend. Don't say she's hot or nothing like that, but comment on how funny she is, how you like her car or jewelry. Mention these types of things about 4 times to your stripper then don't say another word about Sara. If within a week your girl comes home and starts talking badly about Sara behind her back, you are fucked . . . and likely next.
10. Does your girlfriend drink liquor/beer with cake?
I have an amusing story/anecdote that I was originally waiting for Damian to put up (since it originated into my ears from him,) but since he's on what seems to be a permanent hiatus I'm going to finally insert this awesome analogy here.
I was out for a walk a couple months back while on the phone with Damian one night after work. I'd been dating this succubus stripper who at the time I believed to be the one, the only, my rose petal. After numerous break-ups and me pouting often because she wasn't acting normally, Damian huffed and said,
"Zack, you're a fairly intelligent guy so I would think you would've gotten this by now. I don't know what your problem is or why this doesn't sink into your head, so I'm going to put it in a way that even you can understand, you dumb, thick-headed Kraut. Say you're a kid and got one of those Transformer toys. You 'member those, right?"
"Yea."
"Yea, so let's say your girlfriend is just like one of those toys, only---."
"Optimus Prime."
"Sure, whatever. Anyway, while she's at work, ya know, let's say she's in car form, and remember, we're talking about her entire lifestyle and mind state in this scenario. At work she's the car and at home with you or family or friends she's the robot. There are two sides is the point I'm trying to get at here, okay?"
"Yes'sum."
"All right, now take yourself back to when you were a kid and you were trying to play with the actual Transformer, only back then the toy had a piece missing. You know, you'd try to manipulate it, fold it and the toy just wouldn't work right. Could be when it was a car, one of the doors was missing that when you tried to turn it back into a robot again, the piece that was the car door is now half of the robot's head, only, like I said, no matter how you to try to play with this toy, there's always going to be a piece missing so naturally there are going to be problems when you try to play with it. Now, do you know why?"
"Why?"
"BECAUSE IT'S FUCKING BROKEN, YOU MORON! GET RID OF HER AND GO PLAY WITH SOMEONE ELSE!!!"
Funny shit.
I don't even care that Damian checked me with some quickness; that was funny as hell! I was listening to him say that and the analogy practically smacked me in the face even though I was on the phone. Kick fucking ass.
Now. . . what did this have to do with a woman drinking alcohol with cake?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing . . . Just making sure your eye is on the ball.
11. She has an inexplicable tattoo so you ask her what it means and she says something vague like she was drunk when she got it.
If the tattoo is on her lower back, I'm guessing there's a 58% chance your girlfriend was, is or will be on the pole.
If it's tribal, bump it to 62%.
Stretch marks appear 180 degrees of that fine, fine artistry, 66% . . .
The bitch doesn't know what era the name of the president of her kid's elementary school had lived in, push it to 72.4%.
And in conclusion, if your chick DVRs 'Cheaters' then forces you to watch it with her, pump that percentage up to 85 that she was worthless in the 90s, is useless in the 2000s, and will 2010 and beyond be just a black-hole jizz mop until menopause or the apocalypse hits---whichever strikes first in your hard-on raged lifespan as a heterosexual fancying that cock-grinding sociopath.
You heard it here first, dude. Good luck.