My Dad Walked In on Me Stripping at a Club

As a former dancer, I have plenty of interesting stories about the strip club and what it’s like to work in one. I have experienced the weirdest clients, asking for the strangest things. I have seen fights and fucking, bad falls off the stage, bad breakups, and bad pick-up lines. I have watched people get sick on themselves, on the girls, and on the stage. I have witnessed people in their most mortifying moments. And I’ve had those moments too.

In fact, I have had the unfortunate opportunity of experiencing one of the most miserable moments that a dancer can experience. That moment was when I got busted onstage by my father.

He loves Broncos games and comes into town for them every once in a while. He also loves titty bars. Because of this, I had a rule that I would never go into work if he was in town, just to be safe. I always refused to work, except this one time. Because the Broncos were playing the Raiders. Not only do customers from out of town spend hella cash but Denver hates Oakland so much that I just knew it was going to be rowdy. In a moment of weakness I talked myself into breaking my own rule for the first and only time.

When you come up the stairs onto the floor, the first thing you have to do is check in with the DJ. I was good friends with the DJ who was working so I stepped into the DJ booth and was able to look out over the whole club. It was busy, as I expected, so I really couldn’t see anything but figured I was probably okay. I headed to the bar for a drink before my set and slammed two shots of Jameson right before they called me on stage.

If I’m on a bar with a pole, which I was, I always ask for the bottle of cleaner and a bar rag to wipe it down. It’s not like it cleans it, but it does get rid of glitter and lotion and shit like that. As it turns out, lotion didn’t happen to be my issue. This is the part that was surreal: there wasn’t anyone at my stage when I finished wiping down the pole. And I never take my top off during the first song because realistically, my set is three songs long and it’s more fun if you wait for a minute. No point getting naked for no one.

I wasn’t doing anything too seductive but I was swaying and stretching just a little to warm up. I turned my back to the floor to check my hair in the mirror and felt a tap on the back of my leg, turned around, and who did I see? Yep. My dad was the ONLY person at my stage and all he said was, “You look great up there, but you’d look better with clothes on.”

Mortified, the only words I could get out of my mouth were, “Get the fuck out of here.” And you might ask yourself why I would say that. And my thoughts were that he’s at my place of employment, trying to literally fuck girls that I’m friends with, who are my age (some even younger) and he has the actual balls to get smart with me? Anyway, as soon as he left I jumped offstage and ran straight down the stairs and into the dressing room. I immediately started freaking out at House Mom and as soon as I was able to get the words out she started laughing at me. Actually, it was more like cackling but either way, she thought it was hilarious. I did not think it was hilarious so I started crying, at which point she grabbed me by the arm, pulled me through the director’s office, opened the walk in freezer, put my inside of it, told me to “chill the fuck out” and shut the door.

It wasn’t cold at first. In fact, at first I just cried in the dark. Then reality set in. Then the cold set in. House Mom opened the freezer door and asked me if I was better. I said yes. She put one hand on each of my shoulders, looked me right in the face and said, “Good. Now get your shit together, get back upstairs and go make some money.”

And I did. I walked with just under $1000 that night. Whenever I tell this story people always want to know what happened between me and my dad. And the truth is much less interesting than this story. He and I don’t talk anymore, not because of me dancing but because he’s a total asshole in general and I just don’t care to speak with him. I’ve spent way too much of my life dedicating time and energy to assholes, I figure when I can weed them out, I ought to. Family isn’t an exception. I probably shouldn’t break any more of my rules though.

Gimme More POP

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