I am weak.
It's too hard for me to write my COMPLETELY HONEST stories when people think they're fake, or just out to offend strippers, or attempted "male fantasies."
Yes, I know. This is lame. I'm giving in. I'm letting them win. But how could I ever write everything that I want to write if they're all going to hold me back? And I let them.
I was going to write about the VIP booth over the weekend, and how I got really drunk, and ended up having sex for a few seconds with a man I don't care for, but jesus, I could only imagine all the people barking at me for that, right? I was going to write about how I went to this nice hotel with him after, did some coke, and had the most awful painful sex ever, but what, is that a male fantasy? Or wait, an erroneous stereotype? Or wait, totally fake? I must be a dude, right? No one would ever do that! My labia is torn and I can barely pee, shit, that must be fake. I have to scream when I pee, and you don't believe me. You don't understand. Few people in my life even know I'm a stripper. I have all these new fake friends but they don't count. I've ditched my old ones. Do you know how much I wish I could tell my mom that I can't pee right now? But I can't. And I've just told you all, but half of you will just say bad things about me.
Creating this blog was a mistake. I thought it would be a wonderful way for me to get these awful stories out that I've sadly chosen to experience. But no, it just makes me feel worse. Because I've got other strippers just making me feel more like shit than I already do. And I didn't start this blog for that.
I think I will just write in a journal. That seems to be better.
This blog is finished.